The ocean woke him up.
Waves rolled in the vast distance until the echoes melded into a white noise. And that smell. He couldn't quite place it. Salt, perhaps? Something familiar, yet completely new. Nothing like the Sea of Solis, that much was certain. Other noises rifled in between the oceanic ambiance, each one a foreign sensation he wished to explore. Were those birds? And wind rustling through... something.
Though when Tariq cracked his eyes open, he didn't find the water which tickled his ears. He found himself in a rustic cabin, as well lived in as the Blackwagon, yet nothing like it at all, no different from the scents and sounds he couldn't place. Perhaps it was supposed to overwhelm him, but Tariq found comfort where he was—whatever this strange, quaint place was.
He combed silver hair out of his face and rolled onto his side, only to freeze and widen his golden eyes.
Celeste lied on the other side of the bed. She nestled into her pillow, half her face buried in it while her luscious hair swept over the rest. Several sheets splayed over her body and nothing more. Deep inhales and exhales were all that broke her from stillness. Safe and sound, almost angelic.
It reminded Tariq why he couldn't take his eyes off of her in the beginning.
He restrained the urge to touch her, to remind himself this was real. But there was the gentle breeze sifting through an open window and the sunlight pouring in and the distant ocean teasing his senses and those smells. It was enough. And Tariq cracked a soft smile, pushing black hair out of Celeste's face. Finally, those stern, taut muscles of hers relaxed. She deserved as much. They both did.
Tariq planted his lips along her temple, glad she didn't stir from the soft gesture. And as she continued to sleep, he crawled out of bed, slipped his pants and jacket back on—never bothering to button either up—and investigated the premise.
He didn't have a name for half of the trinkets in the cabin. Or perhaps he did and it was his first time encountering them. Plenty of Exiles had spoken of seeming luxuries that were lost upon the Downside. Maybe that was what lied before him. Countless devices in the kitchen, maybe to aid in cooking. Or to merely look pretty. Same with the living area and the deck out past the large window. He did recognize the library, though. With a smile, his bony fingers skimmed the covers and his bare feet ghosted over wooden floor boards. All small, yet cozy. They didn't need copious space; they simply needed each other and enough to get by.
The dense vegetation outside the window caught his attention. Quite unlike anything he ever witnessed in the Downside. He relied again on the word of the Exiles and their memories from distant lands. Was this like their tales? Even dreams had to draw inspiration from somewhere.
He snuck out the back door and emerged into the outdoors. Fresh air filled his lungs as the light almost blinded him. Wildlife echoed through the tall trees, each song unique, yet mixed together in a unique harmony. The warmth thick in the air didn't call for a jacket; Tariq left it on out of habit. The temperature was the least of his worries as he followed the lull of the ocean in hopes to find its origin.
Fresh soil and dew-covered grass met his feet as he meandered through the woods. The air was touched with the scent that only came after a rain shower in the heat of the night. The trees swayed in the occasional breeze and the rays of sunlight danced through the leaves. Birds flew overhead without a care in the world. Tariq smiled and continued down a trail only marked by the lack of branches in the way.
At the end, he found it. The woods parted to a small clearing overlooking the cove. Down the hillside gave way to a rocky beach for the water to lap at. He eyed a boat tied up along a makeshift dock, nothing like the wagons he grew used to. And there was more; the land curved around and yielded to more forest, more water, more potential. What lied beyond the ocean was unknown. Curiosity didn't prickle within; Tariq stood on the short cliff and tilted his head back to soak in the sentiment that didn't settle in until now.
He was free.
The stars had died, the Pyres had snuffed out, and thus the Rites came to an end. No more watching the skies for guidance, no more traveling northward seeking Liberation. Those who dipped into the Shimmer-Pool were free. Everyone else? Tariq didn't know. Perhaps still wandering the Downside in search for something else to pass the time. All he knew was that his time—and Celeste's—was over.
They watched together as the last two Triumvirates left. They stood side by side as the Shimmer-Pool closed. They witnessed the last of the stars burning out. Fear never riddled Tariq's bones. Nor did it for Celeste. He had turned to her and saw her no different than she was when she assumed her role as the Gate Guardian. When her eyes met his, she smiled. Only for him. Wise and joyous. Words weren't needed to sing of the happiness swelling inside of her. Not when her expression spoke of it.
They had turned to leave. Together. Where exactly, who knew. Did it matter? She was there and so was he. And when darkness consumed them, neither feared the shadows, so long as they stood by each other.
"What now, Celeste?" he had asked, his voice a whisper in the sweeping solitude.
She placed her lute down and faced him, plucking his hat off to perch on top of her lute.
"I pray you're not humoring me now with such a question," she had teased, the seriousness in her tongue fading, yet the authority remained.
His lips parted to speak as her fingers traced the lines in his face. The words vanished from his being. No need for pleasantries; this wasn't passing through the Scribesgate. Even when he had, what he longed for sang in his heart while his lips stayed sealed. It always had.
The recent memory sent a chill through him. What was it that had happened? Did the Scribes smile upon them and granted their freedom, now with their tasks completed? Or had their own powers harbored deep within their songs carry them elsewhere, away from the Commonwealth and Downside? Tariq couldn't say, nor did he dwell long on the thought. So long as they found happiness, they could be stranded anywhere.
Arms swept around from behind and clung onto him. The warmth of a body pressed against his. It all shook him free from his thoughts and opened his eyes.
"Good morning, Celeste," he said, his voice still like a subtle breeze on the night wind, albeit warmer. For her.
She nuzzled into the crook of his neck before peeking up. Her hair was alive, like silk billowing in the wind. And to see her smile now—finally, after so long—warmed Tariq more than the sun ever could.
"You worried me," she said.
"I assure you that wasn't my intent."
"I did come to my senses and recalled your knack for wanderlust. Nor can I blame you for doing so."
Tariq peered back to eye Celeste, who donned her white gown and nothing else. He also knew of the Gate Guardian who stayed aloft her perch, for even though the view from Mount Alodiel was breathtaking, she never left. As she remained by the Scribesgate, he wandered. Fate had a twisted sense of humor, no different from the sun and moon rising and falling for one another, not once catching a glimpse of the other's beauty.
But her feet could carry her wherever she liked now. Still, she sought him out.
"I have no reason to wander anymore," Tariq said, gradually turning to face Celeste.
The sunlight caught in her hair, washed over her face, and illuminated those icy eyes. "Lest you dare to catch up with me."
The thought of her running freely through the woods left him smiling. Of course he would follow. He always came back to her; he promised her, after all. Maybe they could make a game out of it.
But Celeste ran nowhere for now; she stood before Tariq and looked upon him without a care if the rest of the universe passed by without them.
He cupped her face with both hands. To be able to do so freely now... there were no words to describe it. Just as there were no words to emphasize the agony which consumed him each time they crossed paths and nothing more. He perfected the removal of his hat, the sweep of his bow, and the restraint reserved for one who knew his place but longed to step an inch closer.
Both did more than that once the stars burned out.
Celeste rested her hands over his. Their stares locked. She drew his hands away first, only to pepper them with kisses. Tariq's breath trembled with each motion of her lips against his worn hands. And when she released them, she stepped into him. As did he. Her warm palms upon his bare chest and his long fingers threading through her hair. It was the fire in her lips upon his that reminded Tariq this was no dream.
He thought it was the other night, when they were plunged into darkness. They had sung together, longing for home. What was that? Was it where they came from before the Downside? Was it their shared vision of freedom? Too many questions rattled his head, but all he knew was the stars had vanished and neither had a duty to uphold. They found each other in the darkness, mere outlines in the shadows.
It was enough to drop their instruments, close the distance, and embrace.
How long had it been since they last shared this? Or was it only in dreams did they tangle up in one another? Tariq disregarded all of it and focused on the taste of her lips, the heat of her breath, the curves of her body, and the fire in her eyes. He memorized all of it like a cherished song, fueled by need and the fear she would crumble through his fingers at any moment.
The sentiment was mutual. Celeste clawed his back to lock him against her and nipped his lower lip whenever he dared to reel back for air. She welcomed him with a curl in her lips and a rock of her hips.
Centuries upon centuries left them stranded, apart. Far too much lost time to make up. They tried, though. Where words failed to express what they kept silent for ages, their actions screamed until muscles ached and begged for mercy.
Tariq composed thousands of songs for Celeste in his head in his solitude, but it was that moment he wished to share with her. Nothing else came close to speak what was held in his heart.
He feared sleep would whisk him away. Or her. So he clung to Celeste as she played with his hair and nuzzled her cheek upon his head. Wherever they were... it didn't matter. So long as they could stay together.
Now when their lips met, there was no fear blending with greed. They savored one another. Soft, drawn-out motions. He drank her in like an aged wine rather than guzzling down water for sheer survival. And when Celeste purred into him, Tariq couldn't help but squeeze her tight.
They parted eventually, their lips lingering and their eyes heavy. Celeste cracked the silence first with a slight smirk and chuckle. Tariq drew her in to kiss her forehead before releasing her.
Circling past him, Celeste gasped gently at the beauty that lied before them. That serious air about her remained as she stood like a prominent statue upon the cliff, yet something softened her. No longer did she cast her gaze about in mild disinterest nor did numbness line her face.
"One could get used to the sight of you like this," Tariq offered.
She never met his gaze, but he swore she smiled, albeit a little. "As I could get used to all of this. Change of scenery does wonders." Her eyes flicked about. "The only question is where shall we go first?"
He chuckled lightly. "So keen to travel?"
"You can't blame me." Celeste tossed her head in his direction. "It's all I've ever wanted. I might have had a duty to uphold, and damn it all, I was to do the utmost best... but that's done now. And we all have deep seeded desires lingering within, don't we?"
Tariq nodded. "I wouldn't mind staying here for a bit longer. Before you venture off, that is. With all the traveling I've done, I'll welcome any moment of reprieve. However... wherever it is you wish to go, I will follow."
The wind danced between them and the corners of Celeste's lips curled. "I wouldn't have it any other way." She stepped in for a brief, yet deep kiss. "For now, you enjoy this."
As she slid away, Tariq cocked his head. "And as for you?"
"I have an idea in mind." A playful quality wove into her words. "A surprise, if you will."
How could he ever deny her such a luxury? He nodded and Celeste disappeared into the woods. Witnessing Celeste in her newfound freedom was a breath of fresh air. Many times he pondered what she would have claimed to be her desire if she was the one passing through the Scribesgate instead of maintaining vigilance from above. It almost pained him to reunite with her each time, fully aware she would never stray from her task, just as he wouldn't. Tariq prayed his presence and works would give her peace of mind, to ease the numbness that came with being the Gate Guardian.
She never cracked. Not until now, anyways. And for the first time, the sight of her leaving his side warmed his heart.
As for Tariq, he stayed by the cliff and relished in the stillness. How long had he always been moving? He released a breath he didn't know he held. Hopefully the Nightwings faired well in their newfound lives, just as he was. He doubted there were Messenger-Imps fluttering about to inform him of anything. All Tariq could do was wish them good luck and part ways. He imagined the feeling was mutual.
The clouds floated by, the wind roughened the water, and the critters of the woods echoed all around. In time, Tariq turned away to retrace his steps and return to the cabin.
The windows cracked open and with it the scent of something new. Said aroma consumed him once he entered, the blend of sweet and savory spices bringing a light moan from him. Ginger steps guided him to the kitchen, but it was the melodic humming which brought Tariq to a standstill.
Celeste stood over the stove and worked with spatulas and skillets alike. Memories of Hedwyn's cooking came to mind, though Celeste's approach was far more methodical. Tariq worried he would break her from her trance, but he risked it just to settle his hands on her hips and kiss her exposed shoulder.
"You never struck me as the type to try the culinary arts," Tariq said.
She perked up and shot him a glance before focusing on the eggs. "Resign yourself to an arduous task for centuries and you'll be surprised what banal activities strike your fancy." She waved a hand to the counter. "I made you something."
Two, steaming mugs sat to the side and Tariq claimed the one with more liquid, assuming Celeste already drank her share. Notes of something light and possibly sweet filled his nose. To his delight, it tasted as soothing as it smelled.
"Is it alright?" Celeste asked.
"Perfect."
A few more sips and Celeste plated their breakfast with enough food to feed the Nightwings, let alone the two of them. Perhaps she couldn't decide on a few items to cook and thus used whatever piqued her interest. As eager as he was to taste her cooking, his interest lied elsewhere.
Tariq placed the mug down to embrace Celeste once more. She gasped lightly as he nipped at her neck. He could already hear her eyes roll.
"The food will get cold," she said, though Tariq continued to kiss his way up to her ear.
There, he composed lyrics for the melody she hummed earlier, words he held onto for years and never found the right tune for them. But they were for her. They always were. About how magnificent the sun's brilliance was and how the night longed for her return. But so long as the morning star and the sun met at the twilight before dawn, they would never burn out.
Celeste turned into him, those intense eyes locked on his. Tariq didn't hesitate as she nudged him into a nearby counter. It was when her nails skimmed his chest that his voice hitched. And he sang for her as she held his face and melted into his body. She never blinked, both their stares consuming each other.
As he finished his song for her, they drew each other in and sealed the melody with a deep, yet gentle kiss. For all his travels and experiences, he found home in Celeste, in that very kiss. And finally, they could lay their lutes down, side by side, and sing the songs they waited a lifetime to share with one another.