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TheEyeOfNight

[Silver Harbor] Reunion

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It was a lot to take in, the last year of their lives, no matter whose side of the fence you were looking over. He had had her, and she him. Together they shared adventures, goals...a life, and then in a flash it was gone. As they stood there face to face she saw him question her intent even if only for a moment and made it her personal goal right then and there to make certain he never had reason to do so again for any amount of time. Ever.

She allowed him to take her hand, enjoying the warmth from his and relishing the memory of the first time he did so. Within a few steps they were standing before his desk that was littered with progress. Her fingers danced across the papers moving them slightly as she glanced over them. Avarice was not a simple man by any means of the word. Everything he did he did with purpose, and with a goal in mind. This would be no exception.

A lot of the papers before her held information that  made sense to her while others did not, though she wouldn't worry herself with the details just yet, in due time she knew Avarice would fill in even the tiniest. His arms snaking about her body brought her from the ideas spinning in her head over the graphs and such he had been working on and as if he commanded her body, her arms mimicked his and slithered over top of them. Her eyes fluttered closed as his lips pressed to the back of her neck and she leaned back into him.

 

It felt so good to finally be home.

 

“Let me show you.”

 

* * * *

 

With her arm entangled in his she drank in the harbor by night. Surprisingly it was much quieter than any other port town she had been in, but from what she had gathered the town really hadn't made its mark just yet. It was soothing though, listening to the water, beneath the moon with the fresh air whirling about. She payed little mind to the other folks out and about this evening, not because of a lack of manners, but because she was in awe of the things Avarice had accomplished in the short time he had been here. Impressed. But not surprised.

“Air ship waystation?” The conversation quickly picked up as she bent her ear after hearing those words. “My, my, my Mr. Lynch, you sure do know how to peak a ladies interest.”She nudged him playfully. “I can't recall the last time I flew on an air ship, but I'll tell you this; it is my favorite way to travel long distances.” She stopped for a moment and let go of his arm, turning in a complete circle while taking in as much detail as she could at this hour. “And you plan to bring all of that here?”

She turned and looked at him, tucking a lock of stray hair behind her ear before folding her arms beneath her bosom. A knowing smile stole her features. If Avarice wished it to be so, so it would be. She reached her hand out to him as she closed the gap between the two. “You never cease to amaze me Avarice. Tell me more.”

Edited by Sorano

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And you plan to bring all of that here?

"I do." Avarice nodded, gesturing towards the bluff south of the town, the glistening cliffs which helped color the Silver Hour each evening. "That seems to confuse people here, the idea that someone actually seeks to elevate the city. I've composed a dozen socially acceptable answers for why: prosperity of the Imperial South, recognition for the Harbor..."

"...Just because you can." Roht muttered, loudly enough to be heard by both of them.

"We try not to advertise Roht's theories." He shook his head with a smile and took her hand as she drew close. They stopped just beneath one of the lights, casting a soft orange glow through her hair. Avarice's hand rose to her face, softly tracing the line of her cheek with his fingertip. "It is a peaceful place, simpler and more naive than Celin was. Content to live their lives in solitude. It's almost enviable."

A wistful note passed through his voice like a songbird's cry, and was gone just as quickly, chased away by a playful smile as he lifted her chin softly. "Almost."

His free arm slid around her waist, and for the first time in far too long, he brought his lips to hers.

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The precipice to the south shimmered ever so brilliantly under the light of the moon. Audibly she sighed at the beauty smiling to herself as she drank in Avarice's words as if parched. “Are they not grateful?” It was understandable that change, for the most part, was hard for people to accept, but this seemed so obvious for the preservation of the town, their lifestyles.

“...Just because you can.”

Her laughter burst forth from deep within. “Sometimes the reasons may not seem to make sense, but the outcome is essentially the important part. Thus far I'm intrigued and impressed with the accomplishments.” She reached over and squeezed Roht's arm. “From both of you.”

An eager hand found Avarice's, laying her palm down up top of it while it traced the line of her cheek. She felt the rush of heat to said cheeks, knowing they were kissed with crimson that may or may not be noticeable in this light. It was in this moment that his words hung in the air, not even being ingested by her mind anymore. The dock faded, and the few people that hung around ceased to be in her mind. All that existed was Avarice and her pressed dangerously close together beneath the haunting glow of the light from above that created a halo around the two that seemed almost divine...”Almost.”

From between their lips she gasped, allowing the kiss to linger for more than a moment. He was such a beautiful creature, and not just outwardly. She was well aware that not everyone that crossed his path would agree with such an opinion and she could care less. She knew better. “I've missed you more than the air I breath Avarice.” She took his hand and laced her fingers with his. “How about we head home?” Her face crinkled into a smile. “Maybe I could make some tea. Or stew?” She chuckled and pulled him close to her. This is as it should be.

Edited by Sorano

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“Grateful, yes. And very supportive of the new administration. But with progress comes change, and many in Silver Harbor did not see it as necessary.” A soft smile, with a hint of pity mired in satisfaction at his perspective. “Complacence. Truly, the worst of all sins.”

The deadliest as well, as his memory slid back to the waterfront riot that had led to his taking the governor's chair. And the manufactured war that had led to him seizing the magistrate's office in Celin. He wasn't a killer, he told himself often, he was only a messenger. A harbinger of the crime that was stagnancy. The horseman of Ambition.

He released her from the kiss reluctantly, sliding his fingers in amongst hers as they stepped apart, turning to resume their route along the waterfront. Idly, one arm slipped around her waist, keeping her close as they walked. He wasn't concerned with their safety, not with Roht hovering over their shoulders, but too much had been taken from him in that storm for him to release her now. Avarice turned his steps away from the harbor, leading her towards the distant house he now called home.

“You will like the new place, I hope. It's a step up from our house in Celin, but you might have competition for making tea.”

 

* * * *

The governor's manor was a beautifully archaic stone building, ringed in wrought iron and green gardens. Neither overly ostentatious, nor easily mistaken for a common household, the two-story structure sat far enough away from the harbor itself to avoid the persistent atmosphere of fish, and grant petitioners some semblance of privacy. The gate sat open: a metaphorical open-door policy that was rarely actually used. Avarice led her along the stones to the front door, mentally wishing that it was daylight so that she could see the carefully tended surroundings. Then again, he wouldn't have delayed Sorano's arrival for any reason, even to show her how far he had come in their year apart.

They were less than ten steps from the door when it swung open neatly, revealing a slender, older gentleman with a cleanly shaved head. A jagged scar ran from the left side of his mouth, curving up his cheek nearly to his ear. He appeared at once unsurprised by her presence and utterly unphased by whatever bother she might mean to him.

“Evening, ser.”

“Threl.” Avarice greeted him with a nod, sweeping his arm towards his guest. “This is Sorano. Sorano, Mr. Threlfall keeps the house in order.”

“Lovely.” The elder man's tone was a neat mixture of boredom and dismissal. “Tea is on the table. Three cups.”

A smile cracked Avarice's face. “Of course you knew I had a guest. How did you know?”

“It is past ten, ser. When you arrive after ten, it is always in the company of someone seeking your political, financial, or personal favor.” The man inclined his head towards Sorano. “Might I indulge to ask-”

Roht, of all people, waved him off with a quick slash across the throat. Without missing a beat, Threlfall quirked an eyebrow and motioned them inside.

“Very good, then.”

 

Edited by TheEyeOfNight

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“You will like the new place, I hope. It's a step up from our house in Celin, but you might have competition for making tea.”

 

“I have no doubt that I’ll love it. The new place, and the tea making competition.” She laughed a bit at her own joke but in all seriousness it was true. It didn’t matter if he took her to a three walled shack, so long as he was there with her, she would enjoy it and make it her home. After all, home is about the people you surround yourself with that you care about, not the things you have in a structure.

 

The antiqued building was lovely, with its own character shining through stone by stone. It was charming, albeit larger than what she was used to. Avarice had a keen eye for the finer things but could also adapt to less then preferable situations if need to as well. But this place, it screamed Avarice Lynch. It embodied everything that was him. The home stood strong, commanded power but also seemed elegant with a mysterious beauty that drew you in further and further.

 

Her fingers remained intertwined with his as she paid no mind to the direction they were walking, certain that he would not misguide her as she tried to drink in as much of the grounds as she could in the sparse light of the night. Gingerly she reached up and tucked stray hairs behind her ears as they approached an already opened door. The elder gentleman seemed unenthused and not surprised of her arrival, albeit maybe a bit curious. “A pleasure to meet you Threlfall.” She reached out and scooped his hand into her own and shook it slightly with a bit of pressure. In regard to his question she leaned toward Threlfall as they moved past him. “I’ll be a bit of a permanent fixture from now on.” She winked and turned back towards the door as they entered. “We’ll have to discuss tea sometime!”

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Threlfall responded with an appraising look, dutifully ignoring her response and stepping to the side with a simple motion for her to enter. Gray eyes keenly watched her pass by, pausing as he caught sight of her twin holsters, and half-opening his mouth before closing it again. A quiet cough preceded his question to Roht, pointing cautiously at Sorano's back.

“Is she one of the-”

“Don't even.” The gnoll patted his shoulder heavily, with a deep sigh that waved off further questions. “She's the original.”

* * * *

Avarice held her hand close, barely containing the smile from his face, leading her past the dining room and further into the manor. His mind had not calmed, and would not calm, not in the face of an element that threw all of his schemes sideways. He hadn't imagined that he would ever have her back in his arms again. In all of the thousand variables arranged throughout his plans like soldiers awaiting an order, he had not considered Sorano's return. She changed everything, she always did: a wild card beyond his ability to predict. It was one of the things he loved about her.

He didn't stop for the steaming tea that sat neglected on the fine dining table. There was something much more important to show her.

The study was a mess, at first glance. A longer inspection might have revealed some symbolic patterns to the chaos, spiraling to a keen edge of analytic precision. But really, it was simply a place where Avarice felt safe, and thus felt no need to inflict needless order. It was his vault, his treasure trove, the resting place of secrets and schemes.

Documents were everywhere: dossiers on a dozen people, from the Grey Feather Merchants to a blacklisted order of assassins. Schematics for a series of airships, big and small, arranged not by size or capability, but by their birth's proximity to very specific years of the calendar. Old treatises, theories, and history texts littered the bookshelves, many of them with dozens of bookmarks extending from all directions. A large tome lay on the writing desk to one corner: A Collection of Extraordinarily Dangerous Individuals. It was hand-bound text, likewise stuffed with loose papers and notes.

The center table was covered by a map of Genesaris, canvassed in colored pins, small notes, and more than one elegant empty wine glass. The space for Silver Harbor was given a place of honor, cleared of notes and debris, sitting boldly under the room's ambient light. Seated in the center of the map was a meticulously crafted model of a titanic airship, from bits of darkwood and small metal bits. It was long, like a cathedral's center, with wings and fins surrounding a grand corridor. From its elevated flight stand, the model cast a shadow over the south of the map.

Avarice stepped close behind her, circling his arms around her waist. The facade of Governor Lynch was removed, and only Avarice, the hunter, remained. He touched his lips softly to her neck.

“I've been busy.”

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"She's the original."

What odd words. The original...what? She tossed a very confused look over her shoulder at Roht, a look that said that they would be having a conversation in the near future about those words and the meaning behind them. A look that she made damn good and sure he caught as their eyes met so there would be absolutly no confusion about the subject topic when she brought it up again.


But for now...


The warmth of Avarice's hand felt dreamy wrapped around her own hand. Words could never express the amount of times she wished for this very moment and his excitement made it all the better. As he pulled her through the manner she looked back and forth trying to recall the route they were taking as to know her way around when he wasn't there to usher her about. Some relaxed exploring would be in order once things settle.  As they hurried passed the table, she quickly reached out and snagged a cup of tea. After what she had been through it sounded perfect for the occasion.


Avarice's den. His study, office; his art studio. The place where all the magic happened, at least...outside the bedroom. She smiled coyly at her own thought and cleared her throat as if she had spoken it aloud. It was a mess: the room, but a controlled chaos she was sure. Slowly she made her way to the desk setting the cup of tea down as she  allowed her eyes to glide carefully over the numerous pages of notes and letters, books marked many times over and finally a large map of Genesaris.


"Mm" She mumbled pleasantly as his lips touched the sensitive flesh of her neck. "You have indeed been very busy it seems." Leaning forward she softly touched the elegant model of the airship with the tip of her finger, careful not to break it. Curious fingertips trailed down the map as she stood back up straight, leaning back into Avarice. "No one can ever say you don't plan things out properly." She leaned her head to the side and kissed his cheek. "Care to elaborate on what I see before me?"

Edited by Sorano

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Avarice spread his hands over her shoulders gently as she stood back up, sliding her jacket back and down her arms. With a smooth flick of his hand, he tossed the garment on a nearby chair filled with charts and old maps, and his mouth quirked in an amused smile: the twin revolvers were still there, Sorano's protectors and soldiers. He wondered if the weapons' spirits had changed their opinions of him, and if they knew how grateful he was for them protecting Sorano in the magestorm.

He'd have to ask her. Later.

His fingers traced down her newly bared arms, relishing the smooth skin over wiry muscle. His left hand came to rest at her waist, and his right covered her own hand softly, plucking it from the table's surface.

“A kingdom on wings.”

Avarice's fingers entwined with hers, reaching out to brush across the pages that filled the table and half-covered the map. Images of faces, structures, charts, and numbers poured forth in a cascade. In flashes between the pages, there were sketches and idle drawings of an immense shape, serenely adrift in the blue sky.

“A city no magestorm can overcome. A people tied by allegiance, not birth.”

His voice was a hushed whisper behind her ear, as if he distrusted the walls themselves with this secret. Only her, only Sorano, could know the true center of his machinations. It was a name that had been seldom spoken since the Magestorm Years of Genesaris' history, when it had disappeared with all the others of its kind: the great titanic airships of Uhltoria.

“The Sacred Attendance.”

 

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Sorano's lids fluttered as she barely leaned forward enough for her jacket to be eased down her arms. The sibling revolvers sat on either side of her back, a bit lower than most holsters; a perfect fit to her lithe form. Truth be told they were like a second skin to her these days. Of course she never forgot they were back there, always ready to answer her beck and call, but she was so used to their presence that they no longer offered an hindrance to her. She loved them, and they her and Avarice understood that. One of many reasons why she loved him.

 

Every inch of her flesh his touch reached left a tingle in its wake. She instinctively leaned into his left arm as he scooped her right hand up with his, however her attention rested solely on him and not the contents of the desk for the moment. She turned her face towards his, watching his lips as he spoke and allowing her gaze to linger on his jawline and the side profile of his features. She was unequivocally in love with this man. The good, the bad and everything in between and she supported him; his wants, his needs and his dreams.

 

Her breath caught as his whispered words taunted the soft exposed flesh of her ear. Whether he intended on teasing her senses or if it were simply a pleasant byproduct of his secretive nature was hard to tell. Either way she enjoyed it all. The sharing of his visons, the trust he put in her and the way his body spoke to hers. It pleased Sorano that Avarice knew her where her loyalty rested. She would take his secrets to her grave, or send others to theirs to protect Avarice and she was pretty certain that he knew that.

 

"Allegiances can be broken Avarice as can the bonds of birth, as I well know. Making people happy in the moment is an easy task. Keeping them appeased is much harder. Continued charity and acts of kindness can help, but you must keep your well oiled machine well oiled. People can be finicky and greedy. Some folks simply cannot be... satisfied." She leaned her head back and enough to the side that she could trace his jawline ever so gently with the tip of her nose.

Edited by Sorano

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Her teasing touch scattered the plans and schemes from his head for a moment, as it always had. When they had first met her, Roht had deemed her the most dangerous obstacle to their plan, citing her talent for capturing all of Avarice's attention with a smile or a kiss. But Sorano had proved to be his greatest ally, friend, and lover and while she stood by his side, Lynch was certain they couldn't be stopped.

“You're right, it's going to need everything Celin required, but more. A strong guiding hand, principles and values, a goal to pursue. Good people to hold up as exemplars and leaders. I've mapped it all out, from the soaring kingdom to the first of its people, and it's within our reach even now.”

His fingers slipped under the hem of her shirt, sliding his palms along the fair skin of her waist.

“But it was always one piece short of perfection, Something was always missing from the vision.” His eyes closed, as if in gratitude or prayer. “It was always you.”

Avarice pulled her close to him, raising one hand to softly cup her cheek and guide her lips to his own. Their eyes met as her head turned, a half-second that stretched into hours, months, or a year of being apart. He had been far from her for far too long. Their lips touched, Avarice's free hand reached her belt, and the holsters slid down her hips to the floor.

* * * *

Threlfall set the fresh inkpot on the dining room table with a thunk, a timid sound effect that was lost beneath the lustful moans and cries of passion that drifted down the hall. He closed his eyes for a moment and sighed, addressing Roht, who sat at the table carefully replicating some simple runes Lynch had set out for him earlier.

“Is that going to be...frequent?”

Roht didn't look up from his work, but he grinned a broad grin. The gnoll's voice barely contained his amusement, tinged with focus as he painted another twisting sigil on the practice paper. “Better get used to it, little buddy.”

Threl looked like he had just swallowed raw sardines. “Lovely.”

 

 

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Sleep hadn't come so easy in the last year as it had that passed evening. The morning sun streaked through a crack between the curtains and shined brightly on her face. It was the simple hint of warmness on her cheek that caused her to stir.  

 

First her eyes peeked open only slightly. Enough to remind her that the bed she slept in, she did not do so alone. Then a smile spread over her face as her arms stretched upward, causing her aching body to twinge in a way that caused her heart to pound excitedly beneath her cheast as she remembered the events that occured only hours ago. 

 

Sorano turned to her side now facing Avarice's back. The massive rune tattooed in his skin stared back. Softly she traced the outline recalling the exact moment she had learned of it oh so long ago. Her touch caused Avarice to stir for only a moment, but as he turned half-way on his side she noticed a new rune, just over where his heart rested. She hadn't noticed it the night before, but also recalled his search for someone to properly tattoo the arcane work of art on his body. Apparently he had found such person.

 

Silently she slid from the bed and rummaged through her bag for some clothes to toss on for the day. She wasn't a fancy woman by any means, not particularly needing the "finer things". She didn't spend time styling her hair or painting her lips, nor did she wear fancy gowns or jewlery. She was likely not the kind of woman one would envision on the arm of a man such as Avarice, yet there she was. She threw on a pair of plain slacks and a colorless tee-shirt and headed in the direction of the kitchen. It was coffee she was after, the most important meal of the day. 

 

Finding the kitchen was an easy task, as the smell of food and coffee beckoned her in the right direction. She wasn't sure who she would run in to once she got there, but she was pleasantly surprised to clear the door and find Roht finishing his breakfast. Silently Sorano made her way to the kettle, with empty cups waiting beside it. Still in silence, she filled her cup and turned toward the gnoll. Her hands cupped the mug and cautiously she sipped the muddy liquid, careful not to burn her mouth. Slowly, deliberatly so, she pulled a chair out across from Roht and took a seat, her eyes seering into his. "So...the original?" She could beat around the bush, play coy, or make small talk but she was unsure of how much time alone the two would have and she wanted answers. Now.

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Roht wasn't surprised to see Sorano awake first, watching her as she padded down the hall and into the kitchen. Lynch had never been much of a morning person, preferring to wake when he was good and ready. Unless some scheme required an early start, in which case Lynch became an infuriatingly chipper morning lark. He returned his attention to the bowl of thick oatmeal and plate of largely-raw bacon that sat in front of him. Grasping a slab of bacon between two claws, he dipped it in the oats, and tossed it into his gullet with a slinging motion that left little oats scattered on the table. His jaws snapped shut as Sorano approached, and he wiped his face with the back of his hand as she sat down.

The gnoll eyed her with a mixture of curiosity and a little exasperation. He really didn't understand the attraction of human women: they seemed scrawny, without enough fur, and without nearly enough teeth. Whatever, he supposed, maybe Lynch would settle down from his crazed fervor of planning now that she was back.

So...the original?

“Thanks for putting your pants back on.” He grunted. “I missed you too. But I'm going to be quieter about it.”

He grabbed another piece of bacon, balling it up in a rough sphere and dropping it wholesale into the oatmeal. He stirred it with one claw, slouching in his seat and lowering his voice a notch. His yellow eyes watched the hypnotic movement of the bacon as it gathered a thin layer of oatmeal.

Lynch and basic geography had a falling out after Celin. I'm sure he told you he wants to fly a- well, assuming you two got around to talking.”

He stabbed the ball of bacon-and-oats with a claw, dribbling it onto the table as he hoisted it to his jaws and consumed it in one chomp. Roht's teeth glistened as he tried to talk around the meal.

He knows he'll need help, but he doesn't want to rely on townsfolk. They're unreliable on a good day, you know what I mean. He wants to build a network, it's all in his notes in there: the Collection of Really Scary People, or something.” Roht pointed towards the direction of the study. “It's full of all the promising recruits to his madness so far. Special category of badass.” The claw turned to point at her, and his half-food-filled maw cracked a proud smile. “Of which you were, unquestionably, the original.”

 

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“Thanks for putting your pants back on.” He grunted. “I missed you too. But I'm going to be quieter about it.”   

 

"I thought you might appreciate that, but I didn't do it for you. I feared this place might be drafty." She quipped at him and his smart ass comments. My god how she had missed them. He was a massive, hairy, frightening beast for certain, but there was one thing no one could ever take away from him; without a shadow of a doubt, you always knew where you stood with him and current situations because sparing feelings was not his forte. She respected him and cared for him as if he were blood.

 

"He wants to what?" Honestly, they really hadn't talked much and although she was certain Avarice would answer her questions, Rhot's answers were always straight to the point with no pretty bows and glamour. Avarice could sell the devil a furnace in the middle of a heatwave. She could easily get lost in the words spun by his velvet tongue, thus the reason she has come to the more blunt source of information.

 

"Unquestionably..." She murmered to herself as she listened to his words. "But...I'm not scary." Confusion stole her features as she brought her cup to her lips for another sip of caffeinated goodness. "I mean, of course I will help him with whatever he needs, but a badass?" She giggled loudly as she sat her cup down. "It's not like I have pointed teeth and am covered in fur and subsequently oatmeal." She blinked her eyes all innocently and giggled a bit more. "For the record, it is good to see you and I missed you Roht." Her features softened but contorted again into a grin. "Don't expect to hear that again ya big bunny rabbit."

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From across the table, Roht narrowed his eyes in a mirthful scowl.

“Don't fool me with the cute-and-coffee smile. You're damn scary, you and those-” He pantomimed shooting two guns in wild directions, littering the table with bits of oats. Abruptly he stopped, as if noticing that Sorano was not, in fact, wearing the sentient revolvers. He couldn't recall ever seeing them parted, and his lip curled in sudden distaste. “You didn't do it in front of the guns, did you?”

Not everyone is graced with your childlike innocence towards the world, Roht.” Avarice's voice echoed from the hallways as he entered the room, smoothing out a simple shirt he had just donned. He padded barefoot through the room, softly cupping Sorano's head, leaning her head back and planting a slow, soft kiss on her lips before moving towards the steaming caffeine himself.

Roht glanced at Avarice, and shook his head as he picked at his foot. “I am so glad everyone remembered their pants this morning.” He raised another piece of bacon to his maw, then paused. “Wait, where's Threl?”

Away. Rescheduling my morning appointments.” Avarice returned from the kitchen with a hot cup of his own. He pulled a chair close to Sorano's, slipping an arm around her shoulders, his fingertips gently toying with the flesh along her neck. “There were things we did not get to discuss fully last night.”

Roht aimed a flopping piece of bacon at him like a weapon. “Lynch, if you make me vomit, I'm pointing it at you first.”

That is not to what I was referring.” Regardless, Avarice stole a smile towards Sorano, suppressing the familiar rush of warmth that found him every time she was near. Her bedraggled look did nothing to diminish her effect on him, if anything it made him want to lead her back down the hall to the bedroom again. Instead, he took another sip of coffee, letting the sharp burn draw him back to the present.

The airship I spoke of: the Sacred Attendance. It was one of the true titans of the airships during their prime. And, like most of its kind, it was lost in the Magestorm Years, passing into rumor, myth, and legend as these things do. The stories speak of it like an enormous cathedral in the sky, so large that fleets of smaller ships can dock within it. Its silhouette was an icon of safety for allies, and the promise of raining fury for enemies.”

Roht had already gone back to his food, mashing another piece of bacon violently into the bowl. He was aware, he had voiced his concerns, and they had been summarily dismissed by Avarice. Part of Roht's brain was hoping Sorano could dissuade Lynch of the whole venture, and part of him was curious to see how the wild goose chase would play out.

For his part, Avarice had already turned in his chair, a soft smile playing across his lips as his hand traced along Sorano's ear.

I want to find it, raise it from whatever grave it found, and bring it to Silver Harbor. From here, it will raise us higher, far from the reach of magestorms, criminal clans, or politicians.” He lowered the cup to the table, speaking softly, but with a hungry eagerness. “It will be our kingdom on wings.”

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Xolomon and Xeshua, the most beautiful things she had ever possessed, and yet not possessed at all. They were not just objects. Nor were they weapons that she toted around with her everywhere she went. Oh, no...they were so much more than that. They were living entities; a part of her and a part of something divine that she still hadn't fully grasped the understanding of. They were strength and conscious, good and bad, and loyal only to her.  

 

Before she could fling a retort back to Roht, Avarice beat her to the chance. As he entered the room he was met with a pleased smile and a willing smooch back. "Roht here was just telling me about how scary I am. A badass by every means of the word." She flexed her scrawny arms and gritted her teeth with a quiet growl as she winked at the man-beast across from her. I bet people could see the family resemblence. She pointed between herself and Roht while chuckling playfully.

 

As Avarice took a seat beside her, she leaned into him, keeping her drink cupped between her hands. "You're right, we didn't get much talking done at all." She smirked at Roht, enjoying his discomfort for a change but perked up as Avarice began speaking of the airship he had mentioned. He painted a picture of a glorious ship, unable to be outdone by any. A true legend among its time, the selling point that reeled Avarice in, but apparently not Roht she noted by his lack of interest in the story.

 

“I want to find it, raise it from whatever grave it found, and bring it to Silver Harbor. From here, it will raise us higher, far from the reach of magestorms, criminal clans, or politicians. It will be our kingdom on wings."

 

She raised a brow and thought in silence for only a fleeting moment. "But...why?" She sat up and placed her own cup on the table. "Why raise from the dead what you could build anew which would also be a feat onto itself. A grand herculean wonder with the facade of the old and the inner workings of the new. A construct that would offer no questions of the past but lead you into the future." She tapped her fingertips on the table for a moment, trying to understand where Avarice was coming from. Follow him she would, to the depth if he so desired but never would she do so blindly.

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