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Sounds of the marketplace bustled around them from every direction: the tinkling of cart bells and the creak and clack of animal-drawn wagons. Leklans bleating. Sleek feral felines slinking through the shadows of the streets, hunting smaller prey and weaving between legs. Merchants and vendors of all stripes barked out their wares as the early afternoon masses ebbed and flowed around them.

It was a blisteringly hot day, Eowyn’s desert sun bearing down on each of its residents like it had a point to prove. Lithian felt as though it had sucked every possible spare ounce of water from the air, each indrawn breath hot and dry as it scratched down his throat, and its rays burned heedlessly into the skin of any individual who didn’t seek the comfort of shade. Fortunately, Lithian’s dark skin did not burn so fast as the paler, more vulnerable complexions of many of his fellow dovaa, but that did not stop the relief of shadier nooks from looking wonderfully tempting.

At the first opportunity, Lithian had stolen away from the watchful eyes of his family, as promised, and met up again with Casseth. To help protect their privacy, they’d walked to the far northeastern quarter of the port town, browsing leisurely through the wide array of market wares available and filling themselves on street food whenever hunger reared its head.

Now, Lithian followed close in Casseth’s wake, wiping carefully at the tips of his stickied fingers and then blinking, an amused smile plucking up at the edges of his lips as he watched Casseth shamelessly proceed to lick his clean. Heat aside, the day was magnificent and Lithian couldn’t have hoped for better.

Well, the heat and one other thing.

No matter when he looked, one glance at the surrounding crowd, and never once did Lithian find that they were not being watched. Casseth, in particular, but both of them as a pair as well. Narrowed eyes, pinched brows, heads that turned to whisper to another immediately after spotting them. Disgust, disapproval, distrust. When people saw them approaching, many would jerk out of the way, grimacing, as though bitter about the fact that they’d almost been touched by a hybrid.

Or hybrids.

Lithian frowned. In Casseth’s company, most likely assumed Lith, too, was a hybrid. He had grown up with enough commentary on it even within in the protective walls of the Celestial Plane where the natural assumption was that everyone was pureblood. Here, though? Walking beside an obvious hybrid in the middle of an open, mixed-market square? Lithian winced, met the eyes of one of those watching them, and watched the man’s expression go from a puzzled frown to an open sneer in the course of a half-second.

Lith swallowed, and edged closer to Casseth.

Worse than the looks, though, was how Casseth barely seemed to notice, as though he’d been so dulled to these kinds of reactions that they did not so much as phase him, and Lithian had to mentally face the question: Was Casseth used to this?

The undeniable, resounding ‘yes’ that answered him without the question ever being voiced made Lithian’s stomach sour, and his eyes flicked to Casseth’s relaxed features.

How had he built himself so much armor already? What was it like to exist with the ever-present weight of the knowledge that most did not believe you had the right to breathe the same air that they did, exist on the same plane that they did, because you were different?

Lithian couldn’t begin to imagine, and it hurt his heart to think about.

Lithian opened his mouth when Casseth first asked to assure him that he was fine, but cut off in lieu of the same interruption that ended Casseth’s statement preemptively. His chest knotted at the commentary, a strange, tight, defensive anger bubbling up out of nowhere. How dare they—? What did they care, anyway?

Lithian’s fists bunched. A rarity, given that anger was mostly a stranger to him. Before he could open his mouth again, though, Casseth was talking, yanking at his hair and scowling. Some of the anger in Lithian petered out, replaced by a pinched, concerned look as his own shoulders dipped. “Casseth—”

But then Cas was stalking off, heading in tight stomps back towards the inn, and Lithian felt the subtle vibrations in the earth under his feet. The waves of Casseth’s renegade magic rippling off of him like a current in all directions as retreated from the scene. Silently, Lithian followed after.

The inn smelled of old wood, decaying fabric and the type of smoke men breathed as a pastime of sorts, and the aging plank steps up to the second floor and — presumably — the room Casseth was staying in creaked loudly as they scaled them. After the door shut behind them, it was all Lithian could do not to wince as Casseth drew out his dagger, scowling and snapping about his hair.

“Casseth…” Lithian shook his head, standing at his friend’s back as Cas stared at his reflection and reaching out several times, but never quite making contact. “Are you sure…?”

But then it was too late, and Lithian did cringe as Casseth began tugging and hacking at his hair, magic still radiating from him like a heatwave in his anger. Lithian opened and shut his mouth, wincing and biting his lip in turns as the dagger cut messily into Casseth’s mass of thick, unruly locks, seeming to slice ever nearer to his head, ear or fingers each time.

“Cas, please, just…you don’t have t—you’re going to hurt yourself…”

Lithian flushed, brow pinching with a shadow of his previous anger as his mind flit back to what had brought Cas to this in the first place, but more so than that, beneath the anger: concern. His eyes flicked over Casseth’s face, and then down to the dagger in his hand, a soft brush of a sigh escaping his lips. He shook his head, and reached out.

“You have every reason to be upset,” he murmured, taking the dagger carefully from Cas’ fingers. “But I don’t think a knife is the answer here…” He raised his spare hand up, grazing his fingers speculatively over the now horribly uneven hunks of Casseth’s hair before biting his lip and bringing his eyes back down to Cas’. “Wait here for me? I’ll be quick, I promise.”

Lithian set the dagger on the nearest countertop, and slipped out the door, hurrying down the steps and out, almost running to his intended destination from there. Luckily, the leatherworking shop was close enough that it was only a quick jog to it, and after an abashed, hurried explanation, he managed to pay the man off for a spare pair of scissors before rushing back towards the inn Casseth was staying at. Hoping Casseth hadn’t lost patience with him already, he darted back up the steps and into the designated room, out of breath by the time he made it in, but relieved to find Cas waiting still.

After a quick glance around the room, Lithian’s eyes stilled on a simple yellow towel draped loosely over the back of the one chair in the room, and he plucked it up, shaking it once to dust it before laying it on the stiff cot mattress and climbing up behind it. Folding his legs under him, he motioned Cas over. “Sit?”

Lithian nodded. “They’re popular among a lot of dovaa,” he said. “Particularly those who have especially large or sensitive horns. It breathes better, and doesn’t get in the way so much…” He reached out, hesitant at first, and carded his fingers gently through the hair at the sides of Casseth’s head, trying judge what he had to work with. His experience cutting hair was limited at best — namely, restricted only to a few experiences as a child that were more accident than ‘practice’ — but as he surveyed his material, he figured it was hardly possible to make it look any worse, and fortunately there was still plenty in the middle to leave a healthy mohawk.

This in mind, he drew a full breath and lifted his scissors, carefully pinching up sections of hair one at a time and snipping as close to the skin as he dared. Just the thought of trying to do this with a knife made him shudder, but he said nothing on that subject, working slowly around Casseth’s ears and then up.

“Tell me about something,” he asked after a moment, voice soft. “Something you learned or someone you’ve met, something you did or saw since I last saw you…what stands out?”

Lithian blinked. The corner of his lip twitched up, amused, and he hummed, snipping further up. “Pretty, hm? What did she look like? The nerve of her, trying to steal your stones…” Just the thought of it — how worthless the rocks would be to a thief, but how important they were to Cas — got Lithian stifling a snicker. “I’m sure she was disappointed. How did you handle it?”

Lithian almost asked what a pureblood dovaa girl was doing travelling with a gypsy caravan to begin with, but decided against it. Casseth had likely had more than enough racial stereotyping to deal with for one day, and far from Lith to want to unintentionally make it worse with his presuppositions.

Lithian smiled, shifting the middle peak of Casseth’s hair over and starting on the opposite side. “Did you you learn her name?” he asked. The process of cutting Cas’ hair was more relaxing than he anticipated, after he worked over his initial nervousness. Soft, despite its characteristic thickness and a striking pale blond that stood out against Lithian’s dark fingers.

“Chelle,” Cas answered, and Lithian’s smile edged up, playful.

“A name and everything,” he tisked. “First girl to break into the great Casseth’s earthen heart, maybe?” He blew on his friend’s hair, dislodging several of the stubborn loose strands of cut hair that remained and then finger-brushed over it as well to work off the last of them. “There,” he said. “Finished, I think…”

Lithian leaned back a bit, squinting and surveying his work, then shooting Casseth a sheepish smile. “See what you think?” he asked, nodding his head towards the fractured mirror. Not the best tool, perhaps, but better than nothing.

Lithian flushed at the compliment, the nervousness that had built up as Casseth walked towards the mirror dissipating instantly. He grinned, and had just started to climb off the cot and gather up the towel when the door creaked, and he froze. As Casseth’s father stepped into view, Lithian felt his pulse speed up, and he cringed visibly at the first, harsh words out of the man’s mouth.

When addressed, the man’s tone sharp and accusing, Lithian’s throat tightened, posture sinking instinctively and curling in at the words. No matter how he tried, his tongue refused to budge, and his cheeks burned uselessly in their stead. When Casseth stepped in, Lithian’s shoulders dropped further, guilt overtaking him. The last thing he wanted was to rile Cas’ father up and get him in trouble on his behalf.

“I…” He swallowed, cheeks still burning as he hastily folded up the cloth on the bed to tuck the mess inside. “I can go, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—I don’t want…” He winced, hating his own habit of tripping over his words. “Please, sir, I asked to see him. I wanted to meet up with him again. It’s my fault…please don’t be angry at him for my transgressions. It was probably foolish of me, I should have…”

Lithian trailed off, uncertain what scenario would have pleased the man more, and eventually, he bit his lip, dipping his head in an abashed bow of apology.

“I’ll leave,” he murmured, “if you would rather not have me here.” And with that, Lithian started out the door, fingers already coiling tight, anxious knots around the loose ends of one of his braids as he scaled down the stairs.

At the first sound of rapid footsteps down the stairs, Lithian’s pace slowed, and he glanced back, confused. He opened his mouth, but then Casseth caught his wrist, slowing him to a complete stop, and his own cheeks flushed, eyebrows pinching together as Casseth spoke.

When Cas mentioned a gift, though, digging into the pack hanging from his side and pulling out a narrow vial filled with pristine, white-blue liquid, Lithian felt his breath catch in his throat. His eyes darted over it, entranced and disbelieving. It seemed to shimmer. Glowing, almost, even in the light of the full day, a similar gleam to that of his own magic, though more ethereal somehow. Pure, raw magic.

Lithian swallowed, fingers almost quivering as he took the vial carefully in hand and breathed out. “Casseth…” Lithian’s throat tightened, though for an entirely different reason than minutes before, and his cheeks warmed again, a rich, dark red-brown as he forced his abashed eyes up to Cas’ face. “This is—I can’t even—I don’t…” He bit his lip, and swung himself forward, painstakingly careful with the vial but still managing to sweep Cas into a tight hug, lasting only as long as Lith dared before he darted back again, face glowing with heat. “This is one of the best gifts anyone has ever given me…thank you. I will treasure it always.”