Chapter Text
A brisk salty breeze stirred the tablecloth of Isabella Bento’s table at the Bismarck. The cries of seagulls and the sounds of the bustling port below competed with a majestic orchestration piped from the ceiling of the balcony. It had been a moon and a half after the Scions of the Seventh Dawn were disbanded, and Isabella was passing through Limsa Lominsa to gather her bearings. She had not been entirely on her own for quite some while. Isabella had taken some gathering leves and began an alchemist apprenticeship under Severian Lyctor to keep busy and to keep her purse full. It was refreshing to start anew in a quiet crafting field. She planned to learn to bind her own picatrices and grimoires and fashion them to her own tastes. She also appreciated that Guildmaster Lyctor seemed to not have the faintest clue of who she was. He seemed distracted most of the time, allowing her studies to be at a pace of her own choosing.
A pink haired Hyuran woman sat a crystal goblet of water on the table. She greeted Isabella and started listing the daily specials. Isabella ordered Paella from the menu. The plate came out quickly and Isabella ate the seafood and rice dish with enthusiasm. Shortly, the server returned to refill her glass. The disturbed water in the goblet refracted the early afternoon sunlight in an array of bright dancing coloured patterns on the tablecloth. Isabella glanced at the crystal stemware and scanned across the harbour below. She focussed on The Astalicia. The maintenance crew of the permanently moored vessel had let down the sails to inspect them. The cloth waved loosely in the breeze. Their labour complete, they served no purpose other than decoration. Isabella felt the same way now that her epic was over. Or was it? There was so much out there she still needed to see. But right now, she needed a rest.
Several past conversations with G’raha Tia replayed in her head. She had many unanswered questions. He was so persistent making known his desire to be included in her future endeavours. She thought back to how he pulled her aside several weeks ago as they were preparing to depart the Rising Stones the last time as Scions.
“…In the end, nothing would give me greater joy than to stand with you in the here and now... Whenever adventure calls, I won’t hesitate to invite you… and I hope you would do the same for me.”
Without a second thought…
Only a short time had passed since they parted ways and she was already trying to think of a justification to go visit him. She had no reason. No adventure, no plan. She sat silently with her thoughts. G’raha was unique in a way she couldn’t quite describe. Of course, she cared for all her fellow former Scions, but she had a curiosity about G’raha. He had a quiet confidence that made her want to know him better. His kind, ancient eyes. Those centuries locked away in the Syrcus Tower. He never mentioned anything at all about what it was like. Intelligent, eloquent, and soft spoken. Isabella gently bit down on her lower lip. Those lips. She shook her head as she drew a sharp breath. Looking down she noticed the sun had shifted and the refraction from the goblet strayed onto her hands. She still always wore the ring she acquired at the Crystarium. It gleamed in the prismatic sunlight. It was deepgold with one large petalite stone and two small pearls on each side. She reread the words Hope Everlasting stamped in the bezel. Her eyes stung for a moment. She needed to learn G’raha’s true intentions.
Isabella’s thoughts were interrupted. “Excuse me. Could I interest you in the dessert menu?” the young server asked. Isabella shook her head and smiled sheepishly.
She replied, “I’ll take a cup Hand Poured Coffee and the bill, please.”
Until now, it was crisis after crisis. It was easy to simply forge ahead without thinking about anything inconvenient like feelings. She looked back out to the glittering cat’s paws on the surface of the harbour. What if he was interested in more than being a platonic companion on her adventures? The pang of discomfort in the pit of her stomach grew. Why does that make me feel so nervous? She had been victorious against the strongest primals. Even Hydaelyn Herself. She prevented the Final Days from destroying all of existence. But it seemed easier than opening herself to being emotionally vulnerable and risking rejection. What if I’m wrong? She pinched her eyes shut tight. The more she thought about it, the more she was certain she was right. And suddenly, it’s what she wanted to be true more than anything.
After all, tomorrow is never promised.
“Forgive me. I had forgotten I must be elsewhere.” Isabella called out to the server as she stood up from the table. She tossed a small pouch of gil next to the crystal goblet. The server glowered at her. She was already on her way back with Isabella’s coffee. Isabella jogged towards the Aetheryte Plaza and turned right to go to Hawker’s Alley. After a brief stop at the Apothecary, she took a deep breath and teleported directly to Old Sharlayan.
It was late afternoon and Isabella headed straight to the Baldesion Annex. She was pleased to find Tataru visiting Krile, discussing matters of the new merchant shop in the Agora. Isabella asked where G’raha was. Krile and Tataru grinned and exchanged a hopeful glance.
“He’s reading somewhere over by the Noumenon, in the Tranquility.” Krile invited Isabella to have dinner with she and Tataru at The Last Stand and welcomed her to stay at the Andron if she wished. Isabella thanked Krile for the dinner invitation but suggested that she already had plans. The two Lalafell failed to stifle a collective giggle.
Isabella walked towards the Tranquility. She was still rehearsing what she was going to say in her head. Words failed to convey her feelings clearly enough. She preferred being the quiet one. As she neared the cliff overlooking Scholar’s Harbour, she spotted G’raha. He was sitting under a spruce tree with a stack of books. He was engrossed in the volume he was reading, despite the fading light and growing chill. Isabella spied Krile and Tataru sneaking behind a nearby shrub. Great. Trying to act confident and relaxed, Isabella flumped next to G’raha, startling him.
Dazed from being drawn from deep concentration, G’raha stammered, “Is-Isabella, wha-what are you doing here?”
Aware of the diminutive audience, Isabella leaned in close, twisted the cord of G’raha’s pendant with her index finger, and whispered something in his ear. His ears briefly pricked, and he sat upright.
“Um-uh, yes, I mean…,” G’raha continued to gawp at Isabella with a slacked jaw. Isabella blushed and smiled brightly. “I-I need to take these books back to my quarters at the Andron.” G’raha sprung to his feet and began to gather the stack of books, clumsily dropping one for every two he picked up. Isabella rose to her feet and reached out to put her hand on his shoulder.
She tried not to visibly tremble and softly reminded him, “Burdens are easier to carry when shared. Let me help.”
A bell and a half later, Krile and Tataru finished up their cocktails at The Last Stand. The jazz band at the far end of the pergola was wrapping up their set with a low-key acoustic guitar orchestration. The night air was still as it began to flurry.
Krile mentioned, “I noticed Estinien came back from Thavnair with his hair pulled back. I’m surprised he didn’t take it out when he returned to colder climates.”
Tataru teased, “After what he paid for that hair tie, he probably never wants to lose it.” The two friends chortled merrily.
“I suppose ‘tis time to return to the Annex,” Krile sighed.
“I’m surprised we haven’t seen our colleagues yet.” Tataru scanned the tables at the restaurant.
Krile mused, “Tsk, ‘tis easy to disregard quotidian exercises like regular meals when newfound adventures and newfound love await.”