Work Text:
Teo and Lippti from up high, watching Stocke from the gilded pillars by the doors of time and witnessing all the consequences of his decisions that affect his friends and country while the true future still lie shrouded, now stared at the red bearer of the White Chronicle with growing concern.
“The last time Raynie was this hesitant was when she questioned Stocke’s choice to betray Alistel,” said Lippti, voice soft and prophetic.
“Her feelings could hardly be faulted, for only Stocke saw more from each timeline and so foresaw many of the hidden mechanizations which led to that nation’s cancerous state,” said Teo. His brow till furrowed.
“But in that timeline, Raynie was resolved to fight after thinking over the dire state of the world because of desertification. In this alternate timeline, she may have a different set of reasons which would produce the same feeling of disquiet.”
They sat and listened to Raynie along with Stocke, who looked at her with patient eyes.
“I know this guy, okay? He’s a real strange one.”
Both twins and Stocke nodded together knowingly. It was only further along with her story that Teo and Lippti exchanged looks and directed their gazes at Stocke, who showed no indication that he had a clue.
“You really love him, don’t you?”
“Love… Yeah, you might be right. Could be I’ve been fooling myself. I guess that won’t work, will it? I admit it, Stocke. I love you.”
The frankness startled everyone listening, especially Stocke who choked on his words.
“...I-I thought we were talking about ‘this guy you knew’?”
Teo snorted softly. “Seeing Stocke so ruffled must be an historic event for the chronicle.”
“It’s just recently, watching you fight, that I started to think about that… About maybe there’s another way to be, one without fighting.”
At her words, both Teo and Lippti inhaled deeply, bracing themselves for the inevitable conclusion to come. How many times have they seen something like this, said by different people and for different motivations? Laying down arms and cause just to find their own way, together with a precious person, and mostly because fighting even more is just too exhausting and too fraught with trauma.
It was not just once that either twin had considered giving up just because of that feeling.
Still, they had not considered Stocke to be struggling with that option either, focusing so much on the potential end goal while being so careful as to not have to see another dead friend in front of his eyes. In fact, now that Raynie made her proposal to Stocke, he made that very same contemplative face when facing a life or death situation.
“What could they do together by themselves, when keeping with the Resistance yields more opportunities and course of action?” asked Lippti.
“I’m sure this isn’t too hard a decision to make,” said Teo. “There are just so many ways to respond to this without resorting to- oh.”
Raynie just then threw her arms around Stocke, her face beaming with newfound happiness and luck. The man himself embraced her as well, a flustered smile on his own lips.
For a moment, neither sibling let the reaction sink in.
“...He really took that seriously,” remarked Teo.
“I wonder if he learned from Rosch,” said Lippti. “Things ended so badly for him because he couldn’t take the chance with Sonja. Still, though…”
Turning to her brother, Lippti then said, “So, did you understand better now than when you did before?”
Teo chuckled softly. “We placed all our hopes on a group of romantics.”
*
Living in Skalla was a much different feel than living in Alistel and being in Granorg. Neither a small hamlet nor a large dominating city state, the town itself relied on the continual flow of travelers to migrate between the verdant fields a rounds Granorg and its farming regions, and the more militarily secure Cygnus whose leader granted more lax policies regarding merchants.
Newly freed from Alistel’s influence, the citizens accepted Gutral and Cygnus forces with greater fanfare and rejoicing. Their own citizenry committed to joining the Resistance’s forces, galvanized by their own successful uprising and newfound resentment towards Alistel’s growing empire. Arms merchants from Cygnus and beyond flowed in, using the town as the last resting point to rest and prepare for the impending invasion to the Sand Fortress.
Watching the soldiers come and go, Beastkind and human alike, gave a sense of emptiness within Stocke. He felt restless and impatient, as he couldn’t help but feel the need to prepare along with the soldiers when he made the choice to take a step back and watch from the sidelines. He made the choice to turn away from that life.
Finding an apartment was not too difficult for both himself and Raynie; the locals who were chafing under Alistellian control left for Cygnus, and so there were some empty houses needing to be filled. If they had tried to look now, they would have to compete with other clients for housing, but seeing as they had been recognized as one of the liberators, their landlord was more than willing to grant them housing.
At dusk, Stocke had just finished unpacking new sets of clothes and supplies from his day out among the marketplace when he saw Raynie looking out of the window into the street below. He joined her by standing on the opposite side of the window, looking out at where she was watching. He saw Rosch, gleaming in bright red armor, standing in front of lines of soldiers in formation. They were further away enough from the din that Rosch’s words couldn’t reach, but he would know exactly what it was that was being said. The plans made by General Raul were drilled into his head with obsessive detail, and the formation rehearsed over and over again in the strategy tent after liberating Skalla and before the impending date of the Sand Fortress re-takeover.
Looking at Raynie, he saw that her lips were a grim line and her brow darkened by a slight scowl which he learned was the expression she would use when frustrated or impatient.
“Some of these guys are obvious rubes,” she said, without prompting from him. “Like that guy, over there? He’s just looking for a fight but his armor and sword aren’t prepped up to snuff. It’s going to take a lot out of Rosch to fit them into shape.”
“He’s got good experience in training them. Without his leadership, Celestial would have not survived as it does now.“
Raynie sighed. “Yeah, but doesn’t it remind you of… You know…” There was a meaningful pause, to let silence speak for herself.
Stocke looked askance, his eyes tired and heavy with memories. “Yeah. But it’ll be different this time.”
Raynie leaned against the wall next to the window, shoulders slumped and her eyes wistful. “Can’t help but feel like I’m shirking duty. It’s been a couple of days and I’m just counting down the days when the campaign starts, and instead of just getting psyched and panicky with everyone else down there, here I am just… Making stew and being anxious.”
She made a rueful smile. “Who knew being a civvie would be so tough; I’m just more scared for everyone else than when I was just being with them. I guess I don’t know when to make up my mind.”
Stocke reached out and took hold of her hand. Raynie looked down at their clasped hands- and her palm was just so warm and with well-worn calluses while the tops of her fingers was cool to the touch- and then she looked up at Stocke. He couldn’t come up with a comforting smile, though he had seen enough pairs of lovers or family men who try to do the same. Everything she said rang true for him and entirely spoke of his own feelings on the matter. There wasn't anything else that needed to be said between them.
“I never liked it when I had to leave it up to other people,” he began.
“Typical, independent Stocke who knows what to do?” added Raynie.
“No. It’s just that... Having faith in something you can’t control anymore. It’s always a gamble.” He gripped her hand harder, to show comfort in that much at least.
“Then, thanks for taking a gamble on me, Stocke. I won’t disappoint you.”
“You never did.”
*
Stocke woke with a gasp. He felt he was choking, drowning or burning, and all at once felt the flare of multiple stab wounds and knife cuts. Echoes of words said and resentment snarled, and sometimes the tinny of a funeral procession was heard. He woke in his bed and he remembered where he was.
An apartment in Skalla. Dark night and cold desert air permeated the room lending a calming environment when sorting through various unhappy visions. He thought he heard a rain storm, but at the slight inclination of his head towards his bedroom window, he saw a clear sky where the moon was so bright the stars paled in its radiance.
It took a few moments of staring at the ceiling before him until his breathing slowed. Despite the arid air, he felt the uncomfortable dampness of cold sweat and was chilled down to the bone from his dreams. He paid attention to his body first. Breathing started to normalize; his arms are cramped from clenching into hard fists; his blanket pooled at his feet and felt the cold upon his torso despite a long shirt covering him as sleepwear. It has been a long time since he wore simple fleece for bedclothes and not something hardier that was a part of his soldier’s uniform unique as Specint. Its comfort was now lost to him, but sitting up in his bed now, his bodily discomforts gave way to dwelling back into his nightmares.
Shaking, he placed his feet on the floor and walked unsteadily out of his bedroom. In the open kitchen, he stumbled towards the counter where a water pitcher rests and poured himself a drink into a ceramic cup. He felt more like himself now, and after the moments of scattered thinking and instinct, he tried to regain more of his thoughts.
I am in Skalla. It is one month after the battle in the Sand Fortress. Raul succeeded, and they are now in Granorg. I came back in time to the point before and talked to Raynie. We are now living here. I made the choice to go back and now…
In many timelines and seeing so many outcomes within about a year, he would go back and right the timeline down the desired razor-thin path towards a true history. Whatever it meant to Lippti and Teo of what constitutes a true history, it was slightly beyond Stocke’s reckoning. All he had to do was keep trying until either undesired annihilation happens or that any one of them had died. Whatever the future was that Lippti and Teo wanted, it should never have been at the cost of his friends.
Still, a cacophony of voices still haunted him. Mostly embodied in Kael’s exuberant voice, so earnest and free from the cynical edge that come from repeated loss. He remembered General Viola’s coughing echoing through the Sand Fortress, each labored breath in time to death’s clock. He remembered the sound of Rosch’s arm breaking as he shattered it in another timeline, and then seeing the same scene play out with him wanting a truce instead of despairing battle.
Each time rain fell down, the sound of a roaring river accompanied it and the slicing of flesh as Marco and Raynie were cut down.
The water was refreshing, but it served more to churn his stomach. He counted the seconds before breathing in and out, and repeated his thoughts. He was in Skalla. He is living with Raynie. He is no longer fighting. Reality changed so much for him, that sometimes… He forgot when and where he was…
It was so much worse now when he was staying in one place, and no longer going through the echoing staircases of Historia where he goes through a different point in time. Before it was the familiar presence of Lippti and Teo watching him, but now it was the book that haunt him. Gleaming white and beckoning him to come to the bookshelf where it rest. Just this one time, writing down notes and tasks for when he might go back…
“Stocke?”
A sleepy voice. Startled, he breathed sharply and looked at where the source of the voice came from. Raynie, with her long dark hair braided loosely and wearing pajamas in the style typical of desert dwellers. Her eyes are sleepy and he noted that she had in her hand a knife she usually kept on her belt when they were traveling. Such were rarely seen now when bit by bit, their battle gear was slowly packed away and was replaced by more relaxing, normal clothes native to the region.
“Hey,” he said, his voice raspy. He noted with some bemused thought that old habits died hard, and so does having a weapon close at hand when in bed. “Sorry if I woke you.”
“Yeah, well, it’s not like I'm unfamiliar with night owls and such, so no worries.” She went towards him so she could reach for her own cup by the counter. Pouring herself water from the pitcher, she said, “What brings you up?”
For a moment he couldn’t say the words.
“Bad dream?” She asked.
“You could say that.” He sighed and looked away from Raynie. “Hard to say what I was dreaming about, sorry.”
Raynie downed her drink and sighed. “Don’t be. It’s not like being shell shocked is a big secret. Mercs know it in their circles, and sometimes people just prayed to Noah about it back in Alistel. Even Marco has his moments.”
Stocke thought about Mimel and a timeline that happened because of his choices. He grimaced and said bitterly, “Him? Who knew?”
“Right? He seems to be okay now; his letters are pretty frequent, especially considering they’re from Granorg. It’s kinda sad that we couldn’t see the princess. I wanted to meet her…”
“She is.. I heard that she is fair and responsible.”
“And young. Who knows what she had to see and dream about.”
“Yeah…”
Raynie looked at him wordlessly, and for a moment comfortable silence reigned. He hadn’t noticed it before, but he couldn’t remember a time when he would just exist with another person without having to be forced to be social. Simply being and staying silent without being criticized for it was a rare thing.
She reached out to hold onto his shoulder, and he was no longer curious about the expression. It was just like Raynie to react physically, including simple acts of comfort. Having her being comfortable doing this to him, and testing his own boundaries for contact, was such a gradual process that he hadn’t known when it was that it no longer felt strange to have that from Raynie.
“Stocke, come here.” She then tugged him into an embrace. This was still a new thing for him. She was usually more thoughtful of how to preserve her own space, so feeling the press of her body was, for lack of better term, an intimate sensation than he was used to.
“You know, I used to dream a lot about being buried alive,” she said casually.
“”...From that time in the Alistel mine?” He was more than alarmed about what she said.
“Yeah, but that was a new one. Mostly it was from that time the entire mercenary company died. Except for me and Marco.” She held him tighter. “You know, I used to think that I shouldn’t have been alive.”
“But-”
“I don’t anymore, and it’s a stupid thought, I know. That was just my feeling, though.”
Stocke returned her embrace, holding her even tighter and taking in how nice it felt to have her head rested on his shoulder while feeling boundaries blur between them.
“Hey Stocke,” and Raynie’s voice was muffled from his shoulder, but he heard it so closely to his ear that he shivered. “Are you okay?”
“...I don’t know.”
Raynie reached her hand up to cup his cheek. He hadn’t realized how cold he felt until she touched him with her warm palm. “I won’t ask you what bugs you, but I’m just here whenever you need me, and that I probably understand a lot of what you’re going through. Sometimes that’s why I still do the mercenary gig; it’s just easier to keep doing the job even though I might end up in another cave-in.”
“Well, the one Alistel was too close to call for comfort.” He leaned into her hand, finding pleasure in the gesture.
Raynie suddenly retracted her hand, and in the process stepped away from the embrace. Stocke likewise looked away in embarrassment. Two months of cohabitation and a love declaration doesn't all gaps can be filled.
“You’ll be all right going back to sleep?” asked Raynie
Stocke nodded solemnly. “Yeah. I’ll be back in bed soon. Thanks for checking in. And also for checking in prepared.” Stocke nodded at the knife she put back in her hand as she was about to make her way back to her room.
Raynie held the knife up and spun it expertly between her fingers.
“Can’t be too careful nowadays. Water is getting more precious around these parts.”
*
The next day, Raynie abruptly asked Stocke to go out for dinner in town. While they are no stranger to eating out, someone had brought new supplies of spices and lamb meat in the market, and another vendor came in for melon fruit that have just been in season only to be snatched up by local eateries for their own menu. In Raynie’s own words, this could be a once-in-a-lifetime experience for them, and as usual Stocke couldn’t tell if she was being earnest or morbid in that statement. Her jokes weren’t unusual to hear, either; many people began to casually talk about desertification and the growing lack of supplies with darker humor than usual, but always with a grain of truth.
While out on that market day, they stopped by a vendor selling pilaf cooked in sliced pieces of steak, green onions, conut oil, and saffron. They each bought a plate of rice, and some pomegranates from another stall who came from the northern plains. They sat at a tea shop to dine and slurp some strong black tea while listening to local gossip around them. There was talk of another town deep near Cygnus territory that had fallen in harder times. Whether it was by desertification or a normal lack of resources from the ongoing drought conditions in the area, there was nevertheless more refugees pouring into the desert capital.
As much as Stocke would have liked to hear the state of the world, it became too commonplace to hear about impending disaster and deserted towns ravaged by desertification. In his own notes written in the White Chronicle, the most notable impact he made on the staving off environmental calamity was the professor in Alistel researching the mana regenerations in conuts, and that event felt like a lifetime ago. Most of his efforts seemed to be channeled into changing the tides of war, and fewer committed to actual research into the phenomenon.
More than once, he wondered if he made the right decision to stay away from the battlefield, but it was not as though his skills in information gathering was underutilized. And not once had Teo and Lippti stopped him before he made a decision either. The book fell silent at home.
Before he knew it, Raynie dragged him away from the table after just finishing their third cup of tea. She tugged him along the marketplace, looking at various wares and gesturing at Stocke whether so-and-so would be good at home.
More often than not, both of them would just look quizzically at something before weighing the pros and cons of something domestic, like a bolt of cloth or crockery. Home life I'll-suited them, but it was only so much to fill in the time that isn’t exchanging information and following leads.
More often than not, either of them are too overwhelmed by recent events to be of other productive use. It just feels too nice to go around a marketplace to watch street performers or to sample lamb kebab.
The tavern was crowded with both foreigners and locals alike, but the two of them waited until they found seats at a table.
Raynie drank deeply from her draught, and gave a long sigh after finishing off half her mug. “Nothing like a cool drink on a hot night, right Stocke? I can’t imagine the last time we were out to just relax.”
“Probably not since Alistel,” said Stocke, obliquely. There was certainly more down time to be had when he was in the alternate timeline with Rosch in between campaigns.
“Yeah. I think the last time we talked like this in our downtime was after the whole thing with the Alistel Mine. Didn’t I could get survive to get another drink, but here we are not only out boozing but totally deserting the country. Not that the place did us any favors, really…”
Stocke looked askance, thinking of a similar conversation back in Cornet.
How can you betray Alistel like that!?
It was really the other way around, isn’t it?
“What’s that, Stocke?”
Stocke raised his eyes up. “I was… thinking out loud. I was saying that Alistel was the one who betrayed us, it seems.”
At that, Raynie’s face fell. “Yeah, well, just when I found a new home with really nice people to work with, I had to pull up stakes again and uproot myself. It’s a big kick in the teeth when I gotta fight Alistellians just to keep my life, so, uh… Yeah, not exactly a great situation to be in.”
Raynie took a swig of her drink. Stocke likewise went back to his cup.
“...Rosch and Sonja had a hard time adjusting to the idea that they’re basically traitors to the country. Their whole careers and lives are gone, and the beastkind weren’t exactly the most welcoming hosts in Celestia.”
“...You ever regret leaving Alistel, Stocke?”
“Of course, but…”
“But?”
Stocke thought about Heist and the Black Chronicle, of General Hugo and Prophet Noah, and in the other timeline the very belief of his own life living in Alistel and of their holy war against Granorg.
He remembered also, that rainstorm near the bridge where their contact died and all three of them fought Palomides. It was so easy to try to make a promise and see it crumple in front of him as another pile of corpses while he lived through the river’s current.
“...It doesn’t feel like home anymore if my friends had to die from it.”
Raynie smiled at her mug. “Friends, hmm. I asked you before if we could ever be great friends like how you were with Rosch, and well… here we are! Two people leaving military service to see if we can make it in a world without fighting! Taking a break from laying our lives on the line to try to find different solutions even though all we know is how to fight, ha ha…”
“Raynie…” Stocke reached a hand out to her. Unexpectedly, she retracted her hand back and looked down at her lap.
“Hey Stocke, I really did mean it when I said I love you. And when you go off to fight, you pull off all these amazing feats but it just looks like you’re in more danger every time. I just think it’s just a matter of time when you throw yourself into battle and you just… give up your life just like that.”
“I’m not looking to die, Raynie.”
“Then, are you here with me because you wanted a way out? It’s okay, Stocke, I can take it. I went through all kinds of crazy stuff that I think I can take hard honesty. But you know… I asked you out tonight because you were so down last night and… and I wanted to at least go on a date with you since we just… jumped into this life now!”
There’s a strain in her voice as she forced cheer out of it. As much as she hoped for frankness, she looked incredibly tense and unsure. He would have to think carefully in how to respond, even though he is himself helpless in his own feelings.
“It’s a good date, Raynie,” was all he could offer.
He took initiative first; he stood up and offered his hand to Raynie. Looking at hand first and then at Stocke, she took it and stood up with hands still clasped to exit the tavern.
The evening was dark after an early sunset. In the briskness of the night, Raynie wrapped her shawl around her head while Stocke closed the front of his coat. She put her arm around the crook of his elbow, and together they walked closely home.
“Raynie, I…. I like you.”
“Wait, what?”
“A lot. I like you a lot.” Stocke’s words came out faster than he would usually do.
“Just ‘a lot,’ Stocke?” she teased.
The words came out faster, in a flurry. “I think you are… brave and loyal, and trustworthy, and very honest. You say what you mean and you are sincere, and a worthy warrior…”
“Wow, this is a really nice career evaluation.” She looked up at Stocke, and saw in his profile his ears reddening and his eyes widened as he seemed more pressed.
“I-I also think you are pr-pretty,” and at that Stocke turned his head away from Raynie, his cheeks now blossoming red. She laughed outright.
“Oh man, I heard about a lot of other things from less stand-up guys, but I haven’t heard that in a while.”
Stocke coughed loudly, but Raynie clung closer onto him with affection.
“Don’t worry, Stocke. I’m not asking for a horse and carriage kind of deal, but I like that you’re with me now. And I’m not exactly ready for the other stuff, and uh…” she muttered the last part almost to herself, but she found herself looking away in embarrassment as well. “Yeah, one step at a time, I guess. But I’m glad you’re with me Stocke. It’s a lot more than I can expect right up the bat.”
Stocke moved his arm so that he could hold her hand in his.
“Raynie, you’ll never ask too much from me.”
*
Winter in Skalla meant much shorter days and longer cold, desert nights. With the cold came more refugees from dead cities passing through Skalla and making their way up north despite the increase in snow and moisture. Granorg and Alistel agreed to an armistice, making the refugees moving from faraway areas related more to the lack of resources that came from battle-ravaged locations not providing enough supplies to last through the winter.
Some scholars and researchers passed through from Granorg to reach Cygnus, citing asylum from competing factions in the kingdom who are either diehard loyalists to the queen or as supporters of the Resistance. Anyone else in between left in hope that sometime in the spring, the whole political affair will blow over while everyone braces for winter.
Raul and Rosch wrote to Stocke and Raynie from the Sand Fortress, who have maintained their position since ousting away the Alistel army. Marco worked directly under Rosch while Gafka and Aht act as intermediaries with the rest of the beastkind in Forgia and Celestia. Mana preservation for the winter seemed to be the primary factor in pulling back military aggression in Alistel, and in Stocke’s growing suspicion, using the time to refine greater efficiency in mana generation for their thaumatech.
He hoped the conut researcher wasn’t being recruited for the army’s mana needs and not for reversing desertification.
Skalla wasn’t in a position to have any shortages in supplies, especially when many in the south and the beastkind tribes stop by before going to the Sand Fortress to bolster Raul’s forces. Still, there have been many town hall meetings over predicted resource shortages, primarily on water as an immediate need, and the growing number of cases where people collapse into piles of sand as a result of their own body losing mana.
Winter in Skalla meant holing up at the apartment with more research materials to be had about mana and local legends surrounding the desertification phenomena. Stocke had Raynie trained in research and information gathering, mostly in finding the right people and the organizing as many meetings with experts to address the process. Many, concerned with war and resources, were more interested in food production and finding water springs, but even then are short-lived plans that doesn’t address the cause of less arable land and dried up water veins in the ground.
The nights are darker and longer, and the stars above gleamed more brightly in the night sky. Raynie and Stocke took their time to enjoy sharing space and being closer. They talked more comfortably of everything. Raynie’s parents and her own upbringing in Cygnus where migrants and war refugees are treated much more kindly in the city. Stocke, for his own part, was able to talk about his own survivor stories. Whole brigades gone and yet somehow he lived.
He had yet to reveal being able to survive multiple lifetimes where he saw the same people die repeatedly. Sometimes he had dreams where Raynie died in all the times he made a decision that would turn against them in the war or in the impending world’s end. When he had those dreams, it was when he would seek out Raynie and ask her all the stories she had about her life. She understood why; she would do the same to him. Moments when she felt claustrophobic, moments when she saw families and friends torn apart in some way or another as a reflection of her own life. The life of a soldier and a mercenary means being around violent encounters on a continual basis.
Confronting the violence in their lives sometimes made Stocke direct his gaze at the White Chronicle, still in the place at the bookshelf where its binding shone with embossed lettering. Its presence was assurance for obtaining as many chances as he can, while reminding him of the duty he took up.
In the coldest nights, Raynie would make a hearty lentil and bean stew with a small hunk of salted pork in the bottom of the pot, flavoring the whole stew and spiced with curry, pepper, cayenne, bay and all manner of warming flavors that increased appetite and blood flow. They would afterwards sit and read while having mulled wine made with preserved fruits. The home they made was increasingly domesticated. Thick patterned blankets upon the bedspreads; their dress styles with all manner of cloaks and tunics and garb reflecting the desert clime. Raynie had three types of head scarves and she would dress with more care towards pleasing appearances than her usual functional pragmatism.
Stocke even found a wall hanging he fancied and bought it to be hung by the bookshelf, decorating the living room with his own taste to be mingled with Raynie’s own penchant for nicer crockery.
In the winter solstice, a bonfire event was held with boar hunted from the desert caverns between Skalla and the Sand Fortress. It had been a long time since Stocke had participated in public feasting and drinking, and especially among the citizenry and not as being part of a state function.
Among the merrymakers, Raynie reached out a hand towards him and together they danced around the fire.
For a moment, both of them didn’t think about the past or the future.
*
Gradually, they became much closer physically. Raynie would touch him casually: a light brush of her hands across his shoulders; he would bring his hand to carelessly place on her shoulder; when they go out, they keep within close proximity to one another.
Sometimes, Raynie would pat his head affectionately, and he would feel his scalp tingle from the her fingers going through his hair and lightly touching his ears.
Once, he sat relaxing in a chair reading a scroll and she would be at the back of his seat to place her hands on his shoulders. Leaning his head back, he rested his neck on the head of the chair and was about to say a query when she bent down her head to lightly place her lips on his.
With eyes closed, he kissed her back in turn, and after a short moment she pulled away to look at him with half-closed eyes.
She would later admit that she hadn’t noticed how thick his eyelashes were when his eyes were closed.
He reached up to put his hand around her waist and pulled her around the chair and onto his lap. Giggling, she placed her arms around his head and kissed him closer. In that moment, all that existed was just the two of them.
*
In the months that followed, they were no closer to finding a direct solution to desertification than when they had first started. They were more well-versed in agricultural studies, food productions, water supply and distribution, waste refinement and disposal, and any technical innovation.
But the facts remain that many were too concerned with the ongoing war between the Alistellian empire and everyone else it sought to conquer. Anyone else who came from Alistel reported heightened levels of religious zealotry, and the recent death of the Valkyrie Viola led to her being propped up on a pedestal as a saint. Granorg was reeling from change in leadership, trading Queen Protea for Queen Eruca, but even then her focus was fractured between repairing her kingdom, preparing for war with Alistel, and all the while trying to address desertification within their own means. Cygnus didn’t have the means to address the environmental disaster, finding more trouble assembling the resources to research it, much less maintaining the growing number of displaced citizens fleeing their own dead cities.
In a year since Stocke and Raynie decided to live in Skalla, Cygnus declared a state of emergency and initiated a mass human migration towards Granorg.
The closest water source was far into the jungles of Forgia, but even then the place itself was gradually drying up. Food stores decreased in increments every month, until finally all had to be packed away to prepare for the human migration north.
It was the last week that Stocke and Raynie had to stay in Skalla before they must leave alongside the rest of the Skalla citizens and the Cygnus refugees. Camps were made around the city borders, and soon King Garland will march up with his procession to lead all into Granorg’s territories. Raynie and Stocke had volunteered their services, so both are busy coordinating with city officials.
Nights were spent exhausted in their bed, too tired to even seek each other out for comfort.
In that one year, Stocke knew every scar and every curve of her body. Each inflection of speech and expression that reflects her mood, and sometimes he would know what she was thinking before she even broached the topic. Her hair was cut shorter now than it had been before, cut almost above the shorter in a bob so as to make it easier to maintain.
She knew all his moods and thoughts. She traced his body with her fingers and asked for each story beneath them. Their nightmares were less and their need for each other grew. She sometimes asked about the White Chronicle, but in insisting it was a very personal artifact, she respected his space and didn’t ask for any more.
He kept the book close at hand now. Its familiar weight was a physical assurance.
The night before the king would enter the town, Raynie sold as much as could be sold of their household furniture. They would leave behind what couldn’t be brought over or sold, such as bed frames and the crockery and other furniture pieces not suited for traveling. They had their last meal in the apartment- plates of flatbread and bowls of black-eyed peas with pickled vegetables- and spent an evening packing and repacking their traveling bags.
“It’s been awhile since we did something like this, Stocke,” said Raynie quietly.
“Yeah, but not quite how we wanted it to be, is it?” he said.
“No,” she sighed. “It sorta made me wish that-”
“Raynie.”
“Hmm?”
“Don’t.”
“Stocke, but…”
“No regrets, now. We tried to live for ourselves for once, and we had everyone else’s blessings to do so. Our deciding to live was as valid as continuing on with General Raul and Rosch.”
“Stocke, no, it’s just… it’s okay to be disappointed. It’s okay to be regretful about this because sometimes we just have to live with the choices we make and then just… just…” Raynie stood up from her pack to walk to one side of the room. Facing the wall, there was a tense silence save for Raynie’s controlled, heavy breathing.
“Raynie.” He stood up to approach her, gently holding her by the shoulders. “It’s okay. Everything is going to be okay.”
She gave a shuddering sigh. “It won’t, Stocke. It’s the end, and who knows what will happen after that.” Her voice was thick and she didn’t look Stocke in the eye, though her eyes shone with tears.
“There’s no more second chances, Stocke, and we blew our chance a long time ago.”
“No, there is always another chance.”
The conviction in his voice caused Raynie to look up at him. She saw the steadfastness in his gaze, yet heard something nearing desperation in his voice. It was almost like that every time they fought in battle. For a moment, she thought she saw something very familiar in it that was beyond just the will to go forward. She thought maybe, she had remembered something very similar happening, in another time and place.
As though sensing something imminent within Raynie, Stocke took hold of her hand.
“Come with me, Raynie. To outside.”
Wordlessly, she followed, relishing the feeling of him holding onto her so tightly. Stocke, who used to be so forbidding when they first met, was holding in a way that marked her importance to him. Like being cherished and wanted, which was a feeling she thought she lost with each family who left her to live while they moved on.
Outside, the sun was still out in the last vestiges of sunset. Whirlwinds and sandstorms increased with region that fell towards desertification, and so the sky had a low brown band of when the atmosphere was riddled with dust and glass. It made for a rosy sunset, burdened by many refractions of light and opacity.
Still with hand held, they watched in the direction far beyond the refugee camps and over the din of the city. Beyond, the world had ended and it would soon engulf the rest of the people nearby.
For a while they didn’t speak to each other.
“Stocke, I don’t know if I told you this, but I’ve been getting a lot of deja vu moments.” At his silence, she continued on.
“I sometimes think that some of the things you’ve said were something I’ve already heard, like in another place or sometime a long time ago. At first maybe I thought I forgot, but then I would remember something that I know didn’t happen. Like… I was there at someplace, with you, and yet I know it never happened.”
“Like what?” he asked softly.
“Like… we were on the Gran Plain and we were at the Sand Fortress. We just got out after cutting through the soldiers in it, and we were about to fight some thaumatech machines. We won, and then… we chased after some beastkind who went off into the plain. We had a choice of whether we should get them or not, and like a fool you just dived in to try and get them back.”
Stocke had no other reaction on his face, but his hand tightened around hers.
“Sounds like me.”
“But it never happened, did it Stocke? But it felt like something that did, and I remembered thinking that “‘this total weirdo just went to his death again for other people again, and this is the last straw; I can’t take it anymore.’ But we decided to run away together before the mission. It just makes me wonder, you know? When was it that I really started to fall for you?”
“...total weirdo?”
Raynie bumped her shoulder against him. “You’re still really weird, now that I got to know you.”
Her smile fell, contemplative. “And Stocke? Sometimes I dreamt that I died.”
Stocke coughed unpleasantly. “Being buried alive?”
“No. Like, I was at the Granorg palace and we failed to do something. Or we were captured as prisoners. Once, I actually thought that Marco was upset at you because he wanted revenge for something. Isn’t that funny? Marco, wanting vengeance? He’s not that kind of guy.”
Stocke looked askance. “Yeah. He’s too nice.”
“Right? But he tried to kill you, and he killed me first. That one was a really bad dream.”
Raynie sighed.
“But I think the longest feeling I had about it, was back when we first met and just started our first mission together.”
Stocke took in a sharp breath.
“We were facing Palomides and we were surrounded by Granorg soldiers. But that time, you stopped us from getting trapped in. The contact was saved and we just got back home in one piece. Mostly. Remember? You were so badly injured even though we avoided all the trouble. But not once did we see Palomides in Lazvil Hills…”
Stocke tugged on her hand to pull her into his arms. Her face was pressed against his shoulder, and she turned her head to breath deeply into his neck. He leaned his cheek against her hair and he closed his eyes tight.
“Raynie,” his voice was full of emotion, wound tightly and buried deep within himself that he thought he couldn’t share with anyone before. “You have to know. Everything I did since we met, everything that happened up until now… I did it all for you and for Marco, and for Rosch and Sonja and Eruca and everyone we met and wanted a better future. I am here now because… because of you. I was so tired of having everyone dying around me, and leaving me to live like a shadow growing more numb and cold with each death.
Raynie, you… you and Marco had almost died. But then I found a way to save you both, and now every decision I make, every choice I made, it was to make sure no one I cared about would die. Not by war, not by desertification, and not by the end of the world. I just wanted… to live… with-with everyone and…”
He was breathing heavily, eyes stinging and his voice thick. Raynie held on to him tighter, holding him around his waist and reaching up to his shoulders as though he would disappear in any moment.
“We could’ve lived with everyone, right? If I hadn’t said that we should leave and that just keep pushing forward…?”
“I was so tired, Raynie,” he gasped. For a moment, they just clung to each other, feeling each other’s breaths and heat.
“Stocke, what will you do now?” Stocke didn’t say anything in response. “I don’t know how you did it, Stocke, but somehow you’ve been trying to help all of us. You’ve been working all by yourself and did all the work to make it happen, didn’t you? But if you did, this would just be some memory in my mind. I’d dream all this up or you’d leave me behind, and this wouldn’t be real anymore.”
“Raynie.”
She pulled away and placed her hands on both sides of his face, pulling him down. “It’s okay. I was happy, Stocke. I got to live normally, with the man I love, and we worked hard to make it happen. I was really...so happy, Stocke.”
Stocke place his hands up to Raynie’s face and kissed her deeply. He kissed for all those days spent together the past year, and for all the days they will keep having as they worked for something different, for more hope.
He pulled away first and rested his forehead against hers. They would see each other like this, as close as they could be, as many times as they want and with even greater certainty than before.
“Raynie, all of this will be real. Now and forever. I won’t leave you alone to this. You’ll see. Everything will be all right again.”
He stepped back, moving away from their embrace and soon they were connected with just their hands holding onto each other.
“Everything is real. Our life here, our feelings, and everything we’ve done for each other. It will all never go away, and I’ll make sure it’ll happen again.”
He began to walk away from her, but she held on and followed him slowly.
“I believe you, Stocke. Just don’t… don’t forget it, okay? Don’t forget me and I won’t forget you, either. I’ve always had your back, Stocke.”
“I know.”
“I’ll be waiting.”
“I love you, Raynie.”
A horn blew in the distance, long and deep, a voice that echoed across plains and canyons. It was the signal for the king. They both look towards the direction of the sound, and with each holding their beloved’s hand, saw the end of the world coming forward.
*
Rosch waited patiently in front of the tavern where they’ve just liberated Skalla. In approaching the lion, Stocke lifted his chin up in acknowledgement as Rosch nodded. His gauntlet shone with oil and his friend’s face looked older than his actual age.
In hindsight, Stocke should factor in an additional year of his life older than what it should be in this timeline.
“Stocke, are you ready for the battle at the Sand Fortress?”
“Not yet. Have some other matters to attend to.”
“Well, get to it. It’s going to be a huge battle, so let’s get started without any regrets.”
Stocke went over to Marco, and sure enough, the young man sighed and spoke his concern for Raynie. Turning his head towards her direction, he assured Marco he would take care of it and head towards her near the Inn.
There she was, leaning by the doorway looking wistful and thoughtful. He would have the same conversation with her and this time he would not lay down his arms for her.
Now, he has another reason to raise his weapon towards war, another person to protect, and another future to have with someone.
When she saw him approach her, she gave him a smile which made her face look more gentle. It was the exact same look she would have for him when they lived together. It was the same kind of smile she would have when they danced, when they went out to enjoy themselves, and the same kind of gentleness she would have when they made love.
And for a moment, he felt more certain about the future than he had been before.