Chapter Text
L’aevum paced as she stood outside the door to G’raha’s study. She lifted her hand to knock, but pulled back at the last minute. She hadn’t knocked on his door without prior announcement of her arrival since their return from the Thirteenth. It was a common way of greeting among the Scions, many of whom had an open door policy, but the last time she arrived out of nowhere to meet with G’raha, he merely stared at her for minutes on end, as if she had been transformed into a voidsent without anyone else noticing. She nearly turned to leave, but the motion finally seemed to activate him.
“I… apologize. Pray, give me a moment to collect my thoughts.”
It was confusing, particularly when he himself had caught her quite guard before, prior to the Final Days. In front of her own Sharlayan bed chambers, spewing words of carrying baggage and joyous moments. Yet there he stood when it was her at his door, as if she were a Forum member catching him in the restricted section of the Noumenon.
After that unsettling welcome, she sent word via letter or linkpeal any other time she meant to have a word with him. He nearly never responded.
At least, until now. She knocked twice, two quick rasps on the heavy old-growth lumber door.
“Pray, enter.”
The door creaked under its weight as she watched G’raha spin in his chair. Their eyes met and for a moment and the world paused. Neither looked away, but L’aevum held her breath as a flurry of emotions crossed G’raha’s face. Surprised turned to fear, confusion, and finally settled on relief.
“I… ah- apologies, I suppose I wasn’t expecting you. Come in, please, sit down,” he smiled, his face finally settling on a smile that L’aevum couldn’t read. Quickly though, the smile faded and his brows furrowed. “What are you doing back in Sharlayan?”
She lingered in the doorway. “Festivities have concluded. They were fun, but you were missed during them. I wanted to make sure everything was ok.”
He smiled again, though this time L’aevum could tell it was forced. “Well yes, everything is quite alright. Simply put, I find this technology fascinating. When Y’shtola gave me the opportunity to look at it myself, I simply had to take it.”
“I see,” L’aevum said, still hesitating in the doorway.
“... You may come in, if you so wish.”
Upon second request, the door lumbered back into place, rumbling as the old latching mechanism slid into place. Slowly. she crept over to the table, as if approaching a sick animal. “Are you sure my company is welcome?”
G’raha pursed his lips and nodded. “Quite. How is everyone?”
L’aevum tried to relax at the question, talking about the others was far easier than any other option. “They fare well. Alphinaud and Alisaie send their well wishes, though Alisaie apologizes for the taco. Let’s see… Krile sends regards. Thancred and Urianger want you to know you were missed. Koana sends his many thanks for your help, and is sad he did not get to tell you so in person.” L’aevum brought a hand to her chin, attempting to return the missives to memory. “I may be missing someone… Ah! Even Y'shtola wished for your presence.”
G’raha laughed, easing in his chair. “Y’shtola, you say? Funny, considering she asked me to do this research.”
“You know she would have been fine with you staying at the faire.”
“... I am aware.”
There was a beat of silence. Again, neither broke eye contact. It was a game of chicken they liked to play when they knew there was more to discuss, yet neither wanted to broch the unspoken topic. This time, L'aevum decided to be brave.
“If I may pry, why didn’t you stay with us?” She knew she may not receive a real answer, but hoped he had softened.
G’raha broke eye contact and looked at his research, as if the answer to her question lay in tomes of knowledge. He contemplated his words; she watched him think.
“You know I am a man of two souls, yes?”
Surprised at the response, she nodded.
“It can be a… rather heavy burden to bear. All those years. Grief and loss and memory. Meshed with the younger ideals of joy and exploration.” He wrung his hands in his lap, an anxious tick of his. Removed were they from the serenity of the gondola. “They still bicker occasionally - the grizzled old man attached to the tower and the young graduate naive to the world. Such as... when we entered Solution 9. The old man wanted to step cautiously, to study the glowing stone, while the younger me wanted to run off, to see all there was to see. They do not bicker in words, per-say, but they bicker in emotions."
"If I recall correctly, the younger you won that time."
"Correct... and incorrect. Neither 'win' nor 'lose'. They just have differing wants, differing sorrows. They're both still me, I can control the balancing act. ‘Tis challenging to explain. But two of the same soul in one body does indeed have its odd side effects."
L’aevum was also a person of many souls. Her mergers would lay dormant within her until she allowed them to peek through, kept in a completely separate section of her mind than her own sense of self. It would make sense, then, that two of the same soul would be less likely to stay so sectionalized. "Why haven't you said anything about this?"
He adjusted in his seat, hiding most of his frame behind the back of his chair. "’Tis unimportant in the grand scheme. The two bicker but as I said they are both me; so it's not a bother, not really. Indeed, this- being here, is a far better outcome than I ever could have dreamed of when you entered the First. I do not wish to complain."
L’aevum sighed, fearing she had already overstepped. "So that is why you didn’t stay with us?"
“It is a part of it. Trust me, I wanted to, yet…” She watched G'raha struggle for words again, forming the best sentence in his head. "I wanted to stay, but for one hundred years, when duty called I answered. There are many things I have yet to… process. Our conversation on the gondola was quite cathartic. I noticed - that bickering - it helped it."
More silence.
G’raha met her eyes as if a minor epiphany had taken his senses. "I suppose it is also... rather nice, to feel known."
L’aevum sighed and crossed her arms, suddenly uncomfortable herself, but comfort was a creature luxury. “It helps,” she said, “with the grief.”
G’raha cleared his throat and sat up in his chair, demeanor completely switching as if their conversation had not veered into the unknown. “But that is enough about me - Tell me, you did not mention Erenville or Wuk Lamat, have they spoken to you?”
L’aevum didn’t fight the tonal shift, welcoming the short-term memory loss and uncrossing her arms with a smile. “Yes! Actually, Lamaty'i and Erenville stopped by my cabin this morning.”
“I've been meaning to ask… I’ve noticed everyone has been calling Wuk Lamat Lamaty'i?”
“Ah, yes, she asked us to call her that after… Gods, G’raha, you missed so much in Tural!”
“I would love to hear of it.”
“Ah… do you have the time?”
G’raha closed the book on his desk, stood up, and plopped himself down across the table. His smile often won him their little game, though he was playing for the chicken. “Shall I call for food?”
L’aevum beamed, and like nights in the past, the world waited. “Yes.”
G’raha listened intently for the hours in which L’aevum recounted the rite of succession. She talked of Bakool Ja Ja’s burden of hope. She talked of Wuk Lamat’s love for her people. She talked of Koana’s secret Sharlayan escapades (“Ah, so that’s why he seemed familiar! ‘Tis hard to forget someone with green hair!”) and his love for technology (“Seriously, you would get along with him”). She talked on and on about the adventure and the people she met - the gratitude, the love, the joy.
“These are the tales they write novels of,” G’raha grinned from ear to ear.
“I suppose so.” L’aevum’s smile slowly fell. “Though, if my stories are told in such a manner, the sorrows should also be present.”
G’raha went silent, smile slowly falling into something drawn on.
“Ah! I apologize. It seems like I’ve taken most of your day,” L'aevum quickly diverted, worried if she stole any more time, she would lose him to it again.
“Absolutely no worries, my dear friend. Talking with you has been invaluable as always.”
G’raha shut the door behind her with a courtesy smile as L'aevum waved goodbye. The air in the hallway, bright and warm just feet away, stung like a morning in Garlemald, moonlight bustling past in a hurry.
~~~
Sharlayan's bathing water was icy cold as G’raha washed himself. One thing he missed greatly about Tuliyollal was their showers. Starting skin burning warm and simmering into a low heat within seconds; Sharlayan showers were quite the opposite. Starting cold, you could crank them up to lukewarm in a matter of minutes, but only if you were lucky. Back when he attended, it was common practice to warm water by the stove, and use that to wash one's body. It was nice to see some things never change.
Today, however, he willingly stepped into the cold shower. There was no steam or fog, which helped the world seem sharp as ice, rigid like the goosebumps on his arms. Which is what he needed, for that day he would begin his research.