Welcome to Gaia! ::

“‘Course I’ll walk you,” Malik said. “S’why I stayed…or one o’ the reasons, anyhow. C’mon.” He notched his head towards the door and moved a step. “I dunno why your father’d be displeased with any but those who hurt you…perhaps wanna break some heads in on their parts,” Malik said. “But I’m sure he won’t be cross with you…y’ did nothin’ wrong.”

Malik paused a moment as he stepped out from the shop and into the main way, debating before saying.

“I have a friend, y’know. A good soldier and a better swordsman than I. He’s interested only in men. I dunno if he’s ever worn a dress but…I don’t figure it’d change much. There’s a great number o’ women soldiers besides. Y’ shouldn’t feel cross at yourself for wantin’ t’ dress a bit different than anyone’s used to. It’s you you’re dressin’. Not them. Which way’s your house, then?”

Malik frowned, watching the progression of his company’s statements with increasing disbelief and trepidation. Halfway through, he began to shake his head in spite of himself, not meaning to, but incapable of thinking otherwise. By the time the boy finished, his brow was tightly furrowed, his posture tense.

“A boy c’n wear a dress, first off,” he said. “I…dunno wha’ your father says on tha’, but it happens. It happens far often enough, an’ it doesn’ hurt no one, not so much as a blade or anythin’ else does. I’s just a dress. They’re not glued t’ a certain type o’ bits, an’…well,” he went on, “…I’m not a general’s son, but I’m a soldier’s son, an’ we should know how t’ fight back. It’s in us, an’ somethin’ he ought best teach you, but if he didn’t proper, tha’s his own fault, an’ you gettin’ taken on by a round o’ six others against your one isn’t a fair battle t’ begin with…even if it was your one on one, y’ c’n only do your best in th’ moment, anyhow…an’…”

At the last, Malik could only shake his head, his frown deepening as he studied the boy at his side.

“What y’ choose t’ put on y’reself in th’ mornin’ isn’t a marker o’ who’s got rights t’ try’n beat y’ t’ th’ dirt…s’not anyone’s right. You’re dressin’ y’rself, not nobody else…it isn’t up f’r anyone else’s opinions.”

Malikai frowned, hesitating for a long pause before shaking his head.

“I’d do it again a hundred an’ a half times or more,” he said. “No need for thanks. I’m Malikai Dor—er, well…Olera. But if y’ find th’ Dorran family…tha’s mine, too. I live out on th’ west side o’ the city limits, out in the wine pastures…” He hesitated again before eventually adding, “An’ if y’ really want t’ find me, the Wymrith’s will know who Malikai Dorran is…I’d be careful beatin’ on their doors, though. They’re a mixed bunch. Y’ shouldn’ ever have t’ feel like you’re wrong for wantin’ t’ wear wha’ y’ wear, though…I hope t’ see you again, mm?”

The last nips of winter gusted over the open grass, down from the high mountains to the south and over the vine fields, bringing with them the smell of green things and approaching spring. It had not snowed in over a week, but from his vantage point of the front porch, he could see the glimmering white on the peaks. Distant and pristine like crystals valuable only from afar, and untouched yet by the warmth of the changing season. Malik turned his gaze back to the book in his lap.

It was mid- to late morning, the sun warming the middle sky and the birds all awake in the surrounding landscape, but a soft, white fog kept the atmosphere more muted than it might usually be, dulling the sharpness of the sun and leaving the grass wet despite the late hour. Malikai sat in a cushioned porch chair, a book of several-centuries-dead poets in his lap, and a coffee beside him. In another five days, he would be off again, shipped likely as not to the far corners of the known world. But for now, he had peace, and quiet.

The floorboards of the porch creaked, and his eyes lifted from the text. Vana — dressed in a white morning gown that swept the full length of her, down past her ankles and to the wooden flooring — tilted her head as his gaze trailed her, pink hair rolling over one shoulder. He dipped his lashes with a nod of greeting.

“Mornin’,” he said. “Y’ look beautiful.”

She turned her head, looking out over the fields. “Thank you…” A pause. “Can I get you more coffee?”

Malik blinked, and then — because it only seemed proper, then — set aside his book, and made to stand. “No, I—”

“You don’t have to get up,” she said.

He flushed, but finished the process anyway, dusting his hands over himself before taking a step towards her. “I was at a good stoppin’ point…an’ there’ll be books where I leave to, but not you. Figure I ought best make th’ most o’ my time.”

Her blush was a soft lavender on her blue cheeks, but her eyes kept firmly to the open field, not looking at him. When she spoke, it was quiet. “You didn’t have to get up…”

“D’y’ want me t’ sit back down…?” he asked.

A long pause ensued before, at length, she gave the smallest of shrugs and finally looked to him. “Suit yourself.”

“This suits me.” For a time, they stood exactly so. Side by side, silent, and looking out over the morning. Then, stealing a glance in her direction and away again, Malik said, “Would y’ like me t’ get you anythi—”

“Would you have?” she asked.

Malik blinked. Waited. “Would I…pardon? What?”

“Would you have sat right back down,” Vanariah said, “if I’d said I wanted you to?”

Malikai eyed her, taking his time. “I s’pose I would ‘ave, yes. I can’t see myself doin’ otherwise…”

“Why?”

He opened his mouth. Hesitated. Shut it. And then studied her. “‘Cause it’d have been what y’ wanted…? Do we have t’ get into a spot about somethin’ every time I say I’d do—”

“Close your eyes.”

He closed them.

“…you’re so trusting, for soldier…”

He did not open his eyes. “Y’ are my wife,” he pointed out instead. “Wha’re y’ gonna do? Gut me open an’ sell my heart t’ the enemy?”

“I could be a spy…” Her fingers dusted up the side of his throat, barely grazing, and he felt heat move to the touch as surely as though attracted by a magnet. “On a complex mission to eliminate you after ample, unnecessary and extensive acting and deception…”

“I don’ think—”

“Someone is coming.”

Malikai blinked, eyes opening when Vanariah’s warmth withdrew at at first, he thought she was speaking only as some sudden excuse to pull away, regretting even getting near to him to begin with. He looked, though, and to his mild surprise, someone was coming up the long path to their house, riding hastarback as the winds teased the surrounding grass. A young rider, perhaps in their early teen years, though he could not pick a precise number from such a distance, nor did he recognize them from afar. The child came alone.

He opened his mouth, but Vana beat him to it.

“Are you expecting someone?” she asked.

That, Malikai supposed, answered his own question as to whether the company was coming on her behalf. He shook his head. “Not a one.”

Though neither he nor Vanariah were expecting anyone, at least some of the mystery as to the rider’s identity was dissipated when the boy made it into view, and Malikai recognized him. After explaining to her who the child was and the events that had lead to their prior meeting, Vana stepped forward when he dismounted and came up the steps, her smile kind and open.

“No trouble at all, child,” she said. “You came all this way on your own? Surely you must be thirsty — can we get you anything?”

“Linnith,” Malikai greeted, moving up a half step behind his mate and nodding to the boy. “Y’ needn’t have come all this way on your own…th’ trip was safe?”

As Vanariah assured her it was no trouble at all for a guest and slipped off into the house to fetch the requested water, Malikai waited out on the porch with their company and blinked as the boy made his offering. Though he took it, Malikai’s brow pinched a fraction a moment later and he turned his gaze back to the child.

“I…’ppreciate the thought, I do,” he said. “But y’ don’ owe me anythin’. Anyone with half a mind in their head an’ conscience in their chest woulda done the same.” It also struck him that the boy’s parents had apparently mandated him to go out, alone, to a strange house, just to deliver monetary compensation. But Malik, knowing better at least than to openly critique family in front of a member, kept those thoughts to himself. “Since y’ve come all this way, though, y’ could at least rest a moment. ‘M sure—”

“Here you are, child,” Vana said, slipping up beside him and offering water to their guest. “Won’t you stay a short while with use, then? I know we’re a bit of a trek out from the city and I’m sure your hastar could use the breath as much as you could, particularly if you’ve been hurt recently as my husband tells me…” Her gaze flicked Malik’s way, and then back. “Is your wing recovering at all?”

Malikai frowned, opening his mouth as soon as their company moved to shift his wing—but too late. At the boy’s wince, he followed suit for a moment, guilty that the child had felt the need to do so in the first place. His gaze wandered out, though, over the open vineyard and the mountains beyond at his commentary. It was Vana who spoke.

“Goddess, if it is so bad as that you think they ought best at least be timely about it,” she said, tone deceptively relaxed, and Malikai’s eyes flicked to her, worried that she go on about the child’s parents. A long frown seemed to satisfy her, though, and she sighed instead—even if it came off a touch more like a disapproving huff than anything. “My family is made mostly of merchants, nothing like your background to be sure, but we know some names at least. If it would help to be pointed in the direction of healers, do say. It’s not as though the city is limited in them.”

Malikai opened his mouth. Her gaze moved to him, and he shut it, only to earn arched eyebrows.

She went on. “And in that state, you shouldn’t leave here on your own either. It’s safe enough, for the most part. Clearly you made it out on your own well enough, but…”

“We’ve had dragons,” Malik said. “In th’ past. Not right ‘ere, but near’bouts. I c’n ride back with y’ easy enough when you’ve had your rest.”

“Oh, no, of course it’s no trouble, child,” Vana said. “Linnith, your name was? Such a handsome name. And a pleasure meeting you. I’ll be sure to ask about, next I’m in town. Perhaps if Malikai crosses paths with you again, he can relay the information. Though of course if you need it, you’re welcome to visit here also and speak with us directly…” Vanariah’s gaze was assessing, gentle as it was sharp, and Malikai found himself wondering at her experience with parents who considered letting children sit with fractured limbs a form of ‘discipline’.

He’d never spoken with a child so openly vocal about it, however. It was…off-putting, in a way that made him criticize himself for his own discomfort.

“It’s no trouble,” he repeated at length. “I’d feel better ridin’ with you than lettin’ y’ go on your own eitherway. I’ll know y’ made it safe by trip’s end.”

So, they stayed a brief bit longer, Vanariah holding up most of the conversation while Malikai listened, occasionally chiming in. When Linnith had rested and felt up for the trek, Malikai moved out with him, down the deck and over to where he and Vana kept the single hastar that they stabled. When he’d brushed it down and saddled it, he lead it out to where the boy had his and glanced to him.

“D’ you not come out t’ the country often, then? It’s a bit of a way out, but not so much so…I think I like this variety o’ distance, personally. You c’n enjoy the quiet o’ clear mornin’s while still bein’ close enough t’ town t’ make it in a pinch without much trouble.”