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It was by pure fluke, if such a thing existed, that Lyndin arrived nearby.

He did not often come into the city, or where there was any great risk of running into someone else.

Lyndin had many enemies, and though he was not intimidated by the threat of them, it was simply easier to avoid the interactions altogether. He needed his time to be spent productively, now more than ever.

Ordinarily, he would have kept himself fairly sequestered in the Negaverse-assigned housing Laurelite treated like a cage by which to watch him through. He didn’t really care. The alterations to the house protected against the worst of Metallia’s uncomfortable presence, and when he was devoted to his work it was easy enough to forget he wasn’t in his workshop up on Velencya.

He had the space. He had made it his own.

He stayed where he was available to the Vanguard, though visits from them were growing sparser.

If it was lonely, Lyndin never said as much.

He did not grant himself time for leisure. He hadn’t in a long time. When left to his own devices, there was only work to be done.

Tonight, he’d been out scanning the skies and collecting some data readings. He could have asked the others to do it. Maybe, should have. But there was a weight over the Vanguard that he didn’t quite know how to address. His efforts to do so were not entirely productive, and he had begun to think that perhaps he was doing more harm than good.

It was a delicate balance, and not one that he had mastered. Therefore, it was simply easier to make the task his own.

But here was Aliez, anyway.

“Aliez,” he greeted, only so as not to startle him. Maybe his presence would unnerve him, anyway. Lyndin had the growing suspicion that his presence had that effect these days. “You’ve picked a good night to watch the sky.”

Aliez had found a good spot to observe the sky. It was peaceful here.

Lyndin didn’t want to disturb that. Perhaps he would simply pass by quickly after a moment of formalities. Aliez didn’t look like he was aching for company but there was a sort of solemn sadness that clung to him. Lyndin wanted to ask him what was wrong, but before the words could leave his lips he found he already expected another dismissive, evasive answer. He said instead, “My scans said the meteor shower should pick up in about ten minutes. Are you out to watch it?”

It came as no surprise to Lyndin that Aliez would have abandoned a position of comfort to adopt one of control. He could sit there under the guise of professional decorum, like sitting up straight and squaring his shoulders would somehow erase the worry from his eyes. For a brief moment, Lyndin considered allowing it.

But that’s what he’d been doing already, and Aliez looked worse now than ever.

There was an impossibly fine line to navigate, between being too present and too absent.

Aliez was too clever to be unaware of how unconvincing his charade had gotten. He looked more anxious than normal, perhaps because he knew how impossible it was for Lyndin to pretend like he saw nothing. Perhaps because whatever he was hiding was getting worse.

“May I sit with you?” he asked, but wasted no time to remind, “You can tell me no. I would understand if you were here for solitude.”

Only when invited did Lyndin ease himself onto the bench beside Aliez. He kept a slight distance, enough to offer presence without being overwhelming. He wanted Aliez to have a space of his own without the threat of Lyndin crowding him. The air around the commander already felt dense, like the emotions radiating from him were strong enough to command attention.

Lyndin did not stare at him, considering that attention might further discomfort him.. Instead, he pressed himself flat against the back of the bench and nodded once before he tipped his head upward to search the sky. It didn’t take long for a meteor to streak across the sky and he let that be a sign.

“For one who does not like solitude, you have taken great effort to pursue it.”

There was no accusation in it. Only quiet concern. Unintrusive, he could not even be sure that Aliez would understand its intention unless it was more clearly spelled out for him.

“I have noticed, of late, that you seem…” He paused, a deliberate choice, “Tired.”

The word hung in the air for a moment. He gave Aliez time to hear it. Lyndin kept his gaze on the sky despite a stillness of the stars.

“Not weak,” Lyndin further clarified. “But worn. I have wondered what is weighing so heavily on your mind that you are compelled to keep to yourself.”

Another silence passed. Deliberate.

Patient.

“I know you wouldn’t mean to worry anyone,” Lyndin said patiently, because he did understand this. Intimately. The irony of Vyn’s self imposed silence was not lost on him, particularly given how much he knew that his own silence weighed on the Commander.

“Perhaps, if you would allow me to suggest, as you have not had the outcome you desired, it is time to pursue an alternative course of action?”

As he half turned to face Aliez better, he rested his arm over the back of the bench. If he could have relaxed his posture, he might have. He was either so used to keeping form, or wound so tightly, that even while relaxing he looked ready to spring.

“If you are worried about saying too much to the others, say them to me.”

Lyndin was keenly aware that he must have been included in Aliez’s calculations when determining where he was to keep distance but it wouldn’t stop him from offering. He supposed, perhaps without hubris, that he might have had a bit more experience with carrying things than the others.

There was no weight, no burden, of any Vanguardian that he would not be willing to shoulder.

“That sort of loneliness can eat away at you,” he mused, as understanding as he was patient. “You should save your strength for other battles if you can. Is there anything I can help with?”