those thoughts of past lovers, they'll always haunt me
i wish i could believe you'd never ruined me
then will you remember me in the same way
as i remember you
(house of memories)

Stone, starlight, and whispering winds: that's all that's left of Dezel now.

Lailah paces restlessly along the rampart, releasing a sigh to intermingle with the chilly autumn breeze. Sorey, Mikleo, and even Edna have long since returned to their room at the inn, but their Prime Lord's heart is heavier than it's ever been before. She's been alive long enough to know that parting is inevitable, but it's never easy. Lailah never knows what to do with herself as she mourns. It would be selfish to send off a fourteenth paper crane so soon after Dezel's death, to disturb his spirit any further tonight.

But the more she thinks of what she should think about, the more troubled her thoughts become, until she is finally overwhelmed by doubt and sorrow, eyes clouding over and threatening tears. Over the thousands of years Lailah has lived, how many of her few friends have left her behind long before their time—and how many of those deaths could she have prevented? She should have done something more; she should have been able to stop this, stop him. And now, it's too late.

Taking a deep breath, Lailah closes her eyes and tries desperately to calm herself once more, taking solemn solace in the cool wind washing over her. Dezel may be gone, but his element will always remain. Besides, what did she tell Sorey earlier that very evening? Moments of reflection are good for the spirit, but regrets solve nothing. She could stand to take her own advice.

Slowly, tentatively, Lailah dares to relax again… but tenses immediately, startled, as someone addresses her. "Hey there, Lailah." The voice is deep, familiar, and altogether too carefree, and she doesn't need to look to know it belongs to Zaveid. She must have been too lost in her thoughts to hear him approach, because his metallic footsteps are too heavy for her to have missed them otherwise.

"You're… still here," says Lailah with an effort, and opens her eyes as she halts and turns to face him fully. The first thing her gaze lands on is Dezel's hat perched roguishly on his head, and her breath catches as she scowls. It doesn't suit him at all, she thinks, somewhat more savagely than usual, but Zaveid only smiles at her.

"See, I don't always cut and run," he says, and Lailah glowers outright at his flippant tone. He's said as many goodbyes as she has, or perhaps even more—certainly in more ways, she thinks sourly. How can he be so irreverent? If anyone should inherit that hat, it should be Rose. "Anyway," he continues, ignoring her glare with a shrug of his bare shoulders and a shake of his covered head, "I'm here to talk to you about becoming a Sub Lord."

At his unexpected and uncharacteristic words, Lailah is momentarily shocked out of her disapproval, but her suspicion returns with a vengeance within a few short seconds. Zaveid is never the first to suggest staying—as he told her himself, in misguided pride, so many hundreds of years ago. "I thought you didn't plan on becoming anybody's Sub Lord."

Zaveid narrows his eyes almost imperceptibly as she repeats his own words back to him, paying much closer attention to her countenance than is comfortable. Lailah can barely hold his scarlet stare, but forces herself to look him full in the face and pray he doesn't ask why she remembers that encounter so clearly. He doesn't need to know the extent to which that day, the first time she'd seen him in centuries, is branded on her memory.

"If you're going to quote me like that, you should remember I also said plans change," says Zaveid, crossing his arms, and glances away from her almost sheepishly—though he's probably not ashamed for the reasons he should be. "Look, Sorey used my last couple bullets, as was his right. Thing is, I've still got some scores to settle, and I can't settle 'em on my own anymore." Zaveid turns his head to look her dead in the eye with unsettlingly sincere determination. "As much as I hate to admit it, I need you guys."

Lailah purses her lips and shakes her head. This doesn't feel right, especially not so soon after Dezel's death. How can she just replace one of her Sub Lords, an individual, like some worn-out part of some purification machine? "And if we refuse?" asks Lailah, doing her best to filter the challenge out of her voice. Throughout their journey together, Zaveid has hindered them all far more than he's helped, to say nothing of the more distant past. Even if he lent them the weapon that saved Rose, he's stood in their way often enough that as far as she's concerned, they're even.

"Why would you?" asks Zaveid, sounding genuinely taken aback, and raises his eyebrows. "You need a fourth seraph if you want to be able to stand against the Lord of Calamity, and you know it. Or…" He hesitates, pausing to evaluate Lailah's expression carefully, his eyes lingering curiously on hers. "Is this about that?"

"Of course not," Lailah tells him, a little too quickly. Anything that may or may not have happened between them in the past doesn't matter (or so she tells herself). "This has nothing to do with you and me," she continues, realizing her mistake in phrasing—you and me—an instant after she says it, and rushes on to cover it up. "I-it's simply not my decision."

"I knew it," says Zaveid, and his voice is a shade too close to reminiscent for Lailah's tastes. This is not the time nor the place to mention matters like this, especially since she's emotionally exhausted already. "You're still thinking about that night, huh?" It's not a question; Lailah looks up to glare at Zaveid just in time to see him grin. There's something distant about his smile, but it's still sharp enough to hurt. "I hate to break it to you, darlin', but if you're holding out for me to say I'm sorry, you're gonna be waiting a long time."

"That's not it!" exclaims Lailah furiously, curling her fingers into fists as she finally reaches the end of her rope. "It hasn't been more than a few hours since Dezel was killed, and now you're suggesting that you replace him?" She realizes that her voice has risen, but her heart is beating too fast for her to stop now. Words spill out thick and fast like Dezel's blood, and the sentiment she's kept locked inside for centuries bursts out in a panicked rush. "Give me some time to grieve! I can't just move on like you do!"

The wind picks up at her words, though whether in corroboration or contradiction or just as a coincidence, Lailah can't tell. She doesn't even know if it comes from Dezel or Zaveid. Nevertheless, the distraction is enough to encourage her to quiet down, and she takes another deep and shuddering breath, closing her eyes in something like defeat. It takes a lot of effort to put up a calm and compassionate front like she does, and she simply doesn't have the energy anymore.

"There is no time to grieve," says Zaveid, much more softly than she expects, and Lailah stares at him. She starts as a hot tear streaks down her face, raising a hand to her cheek. When it comes away wet, she turns away self-consciously, sniffling. She will not cry—not in front of Zaveid. "And tears won't bring him back," he adds unhelpfully.

"They brought you back," hisses Lailah, but her voice breaks at the end, and she lapses into grudging silence. Yes, it took several centuries, and Lailah hadn't ever been sure she really wanted to see Zaveid again, much less join forces, but her tears seem to have summoned him in the end anyway. Still, she can't hold her rage for long under the weight of such overwhelming sorrow, and even her anger was brought on by sadness to begin with.

Zaveid's eyes widen slightly, but he hides his surprise behind another sigh and a bittersweet smile. "Make up your mind," he says, not unkindly, and crosses his arms, not moving his eyes from her face. "Is this about us, or Dezel? You can't have it both ways. I don't think he'd want it both ways, to be honest."

"Don't you dare talk about what Dezel would want," cries Lailah shrilly, making a valiant effort not to raise her voice again, but her grief gives way once more to fury, and she realizes she's trembling more from emotion than from the cold. How dare Zaveid even suggest that he knows the first thing about Dezel…!

"Not to pry, but did you fall in love with him or something?" asks Zaveid, shifting his weight to one hip, and Lailah's thoughts scatter; she flushes and opens her mouth to tell him absolutely not, but he's not done yet: "Thought you'd learned your lesson after you had me. Us wind seraphim aren't in the habit of sticking around."

At the implication that Zaveid's flightiness is somehow on the same level as Dezel's sacrifice, Lailah sees red, and her heart almost stops with all the force of her indignation. It takes a long time for her to find her voice, and it takes all her strength not to yell. "Please leave," she growls, throwing all her focus into enunciation, and taking breaths between each sentence. "You've delivered your message. I'll take it into consideration. You can have no further purpose here, unless you mean to torture me."

"Whoa, that marks a change," remarks Zaveid, dropping his arms to his side and looking Lailah up and down—impressed, for one reason or another—but he makes no move to obey, and Lailah's temper rises inside her like bile. "Last I remember, you were asking me to stay."

"And you didn't listen then, either," snaps Lailah, digging her fingernails into her heart to distract herself with the pinpricks of pain. "If you won't leave, then I will." Her mask of serene acceptance has already slipped more than once tonight, and she can't afford to throw it away altogether. If Zaveid stays here any longer, Lailah isn't sure what she'll do, and the thought scares her. She has to be allowed to collect her thoughts, and strides forward, blind as Dezel. She has to…

"You know what's even less helpful than crying?" asks Zaveid conversationally, resting a hand on his hip as she makes to pass him by. "Running."

At the single word, Lailah halts abruptly, breathing as hard as if she really has been running—though she knows she's only moved a few feet. "If you got something to tell me, then tell me," continues Zaveid, as she turns slowly to face him. "If I'm gonna be joining you, which—let's face it—seems like the best option for everyone except the Lord of Calamity, then…" He gestures, and a chill breeze cuts between them pointedly. "It's better if we clear the air before the others get involved."

Taking a deep breath, Lailah brings both her hands up to her heart and bows her head, unable to help but see his point. Postponing dealing with all this turmoil would only hurt more in the end. "You're right," she mutters in an attempt to suppress her resentment, though her words are more of an exasperated exhalation. "I'm… sorry." She says it as an afterthought, even though they both know she doesn't really mean it.

"If you hate me, why don't you just say so?" laughs Zaveid, and Lailah marvels at his lighthearted tone and the smile on his face. Neither of them seem especially forced, though upon closer inspection, they seem a little pained. "It's all right. You're probably more justified than most."

"I… I don't hate you," Lailah corrects him, closing her eyes to avoid having to look at him as she says it. Not because she's lying, but because she's ashamed that she's telling the truth. No matter how much she's wanted to despise him for what he did to her, hatred has never been one of the many emotions Zaveid has provoked over the centuries. "I just think your personality needs some work," she adds in a mumble, remembering all too well that Edna once said the same thing about her.

Zaveid gives a short, sharp laugh; Lailah looks at him again and narrows her eyes. "Right," he chuckles, shaking his head. "Listen, sweetheart, when you've been around as long as I have, you settle into a routine, and it's harder to break it the longer you keep it. You might be younger than me by a few centuries or so, but you should still know that by now."

"That's no excuse for leaving me all alone like that!" shot back Lailah, clenching her trembling fists and taking a confrontational step forward. "I had no idea what I was getting into that night." Despite her anger, the relief she feels at finally addressing her half-forgotten feelings is so strong she has to struggle not to smile triumphantly. She's kept so many secrets in her life, it's unbelievably liberating to release one of them.

"I was up front about where we stood from the start," retorted Zaveid, narrowing his eyes. "I told you, to that pretty face of yours, that I wasn't looking for anything serious. I warned you that I'd be gone when you woke up. If you thought you could make me stay anyway, that's on you. Unless…" He frowns slightly, readjusting Dezel's hat as it almost slides off his head, and peers at her intently. "That wasn't your first time, was it?"

Lailah glances away from him, unable to bear looking at his face any longer. "As a matter of fact, it was," she says stiffly, and Zaveid double takes. This time, he doesn't try to conceal his astonishment, blinking at her as if at a loss for words. "I believe I tried to tell you that between kisses."

In the pause that follows, Zaveid lets out a long breath, and the wind stirs at Lailah's feet. "Damn, that's rough," he says, his voice cracking slightly, and he clears his throat a moment later. "I take back what I said earlier about how you'll be waiting awhile for me to apologize. You've waited long enough, so… I'm sorry. But if it's any consolation," he adds, switching gears with startling speed as he tosses her a mischievous grin, "you were good enough that it slipped my mind."

Lailah's eyes widen, and she blushes crimson at his easy flirtation. How can he say things like that without even turning even one shade darker? "Th-that's enough of that!" she manages, waving her hands in flustered agitation. "Flattery isn't going to help your cause, since it's not really my decision to make. And besides, I… I still don't trust you." And it still hurts to think too hard about that night, adds Lailah to herself. Add that to the list of things with which she'll have to come to terms before dawn.

"Ouch," says Zaveid, raising his eyebrows, but he doesn't look the slightest bit hurt or surprised. "But honestly," he continues, sauntering up to Lailah, and she forces herself to stand her ground as he rests his forearm on her shoulder once more. He leans in close to murmur in her ear, his voice a low and suggestive growl. "Trust doesn't really factor into it, and it never really did—know what I mean?"

Lailah glares at him out the corner of her eye. "If you're suggesting that I make love to you over Dezel's grave," she says furiously, feeling her eyes flash even as they fill with tears again, "then I'm going to have to disappoint you. And you'd best get used to that." She twirls out of Zaveid's way, but her pulse quickens anyway. He has no right to make moves like that at a time like this. It's almost enough to make Lailah hope Sorey finds some reason to refuse him tomorrow.

Almost. Even now, she still can't bring herself to hate him.

"Man, they really got to you, didn't they?" asks Zaveid, shaking his head. "When I first met you, all those centuries ago, you told me you'd do anything to shake the boredom that comes with waiting for a vessel. Show me something new, you said." Lailah bites her lip at the memory of those words, so long left unrepeated. If he remembers that so clearly, and it was so much longer ago… (No. She refuses to lose herself in pointless speculation.)

"It wasn't your fault I left," says Zaveid eventually, and another breeze brushes her face in a light caress. Lailah does her best to clear her expression, if only so he won't get the wrong idea, but can't prevent her eyes from widening or her heart from softening at the sincerity and regret in his tone. "It's just who I am, you know? I might not have explained that too well in the heat of the moment, but…" He trails off, but instead of finishing the fragment, he says only, "I guess you found a good one, huh?"

Lailah glances tentatively over her shoulder to find Zaveid adjusting Dezel's hat, and a pang shoots across her heart. Not six hours before, its previous owner did the same thing. Overcome by thoughts of how recently everything had been all right, she jerks her head up to stare up at the sky instead. The stars have witnessed deaths beyond count over their millennia, more than any human or seraph could ever see. Lailah finds herself glad, in this moment, that she too is mortal.

She'd be content to ignore Zaveid altogether and watch the stars until the sun chases them away, except that something about his words bothers her long after they leave his mouth. As she reluctantly mulls them over, Lailah realizes what's wrong. He wasn't talking about her vessel, she thinks, but Dezel. If only for Rose's sake, she has to set that record straight.

"I wasn't in love with him, Zaveid," says Lailah quietly, but his unusually serious expression does not change as he shifts his gaze over to her. "I don't need to love someone like that to mourn for them. And I don't need to hate someone to mistrust them."

Zaveid sighs and closes his eyes. When he finally opens them again, they shine with a gentle warmth. "You gotta be more careful, giving out words of wisdom like that all willy-nilly. I may not be much of a liar, but I've never been good with the truth, either. Hit me hard enough in the heart with that stuff, and I might just die." He gives her a small and somewhat weary smile, and Lailah hesitantly returns it.

In the ensuing silence, she can hear only her heartbeat… and the echo of her name on his lips, a halting breath reverberating through her sanctuary hundreds of years ago. They've reached a kind of closure in the present day as well, thinks Lailah, tentatively satisfied. He's as rambunctious and unscrupulous as ever, and she can't bring herself to place all her faith in him, but it's better than nothing.

"You should get some rest," says Lailah, longing to collect her thoughts alone. "It's been a long night for all of us."

"What about you?" asks Zaveid, crossing his arms again and staring her down; maybe it's just the darkness, but Lailah can't read his expression anymore. "I can't leave a damsel in distress out here in the cold, can I?"

Lailah takes one last deep breath, closing her eyes briefly. "I was fine before you came," she says, a little more sharply as she looks up at him again, "and I'll be fine after you leave. Just… go. Please." She gestures away from herself earnestly. She may not be as angry with Zaveid as she should be anymore, under the circumstances, but she still needs some time to herself. Perhaps now more than ever.

There is another brief pause before Zaveid sighs in resignation, taking a few steps forward to stand beside her. "As my Prime Lord commands," he says softly, glancing sideways down at Lailah. She scowls, but her heart isn't in it this time; after all, no matter the hardships he's put them through, he did apologize. Even if only because he finally realized he took something irreplaceable the morning he ran.

"We'll see what Sorey says about that tomorrow," replies Lailah, somewhat warily, but the last word is almost cut off by a gasp as Zaveid caresses her chin, removing Dezel's hat as if in respect; her feet automatically turn the rest of her body to face him. His eyes smolder scarlet in the starlight with a storm of nameless emotions, and Lailah shudders as if in cold, but it's not an unpleasant sensation; dimly, she recognizes the same arteless spell he put her under once before.

She closes her eyes and turns her face slightly away, her cheeks burning and her eyes stinging; she will not let his charisma sway her a second time—but they fly wide again as she feels warm breath on her lips, an instant before he kisses her. Lailah wants more than anything to find the strength of heart to shove him away, to tell him she doesn't want him anymore… but instead, her eyes flutter shut again, and she relaxes into his touch as if no time at all has passed since their first encounter.

It's a brief kiss, but full of so many emotions that it seems to stretch backward through all the hundreds of years since they did this last. It's slower and less sensual than Lailah would have expected; in fact, it's barely even romantic. Rather, it is an experimental exchange of regret and longing and desperation and fear, conveyed in the only way Zaveid knows how. And, as strange as it may seem, she finds herself taking comfort in his real and true presence, just as she did that night so long ago… and perhaps, in his own way, he needs her too.

They breathe into one another as they break away, and Lailah opens her eyes. Immediately afterwards, the realization of what she's let him do—how much control he has over her—crashes down on her shoulders. The heat rises to her face once more, and she gazes down at the ground, begging Dezel's forgiveness in her head. She tried to resist as best she could, but her loneliness won out in the end.

Even as the thought crosses her mind, the wind picks up as if in a gale of laughter, and she can't shake the feeling that Dezel understands what she means.

By the time Lailah looks up at Zaveid again, he's already donned the hat again and turned away, though he glances over his shoulder at her and catches her eye. Maybe Dezel's hat suits him more than she thought, thinks Lailah despite herself. "Good night, Lailah," he says, no trace of a smile on his face. In fact, he seems as sad as she's ever seen him. "I'll see you in the morning." He says it more quietly still, finally offering the words she wished he'd said so long ago, and continues on his way.

Lailah watches him go, helplessly touching her fingers to her lips. A part of her wants to chase after him and take back her request to be alone, to beg for his company and reclaim everything she thought she wanted so many decades ago, but she steels herself and looks up at the night sky once more instead. There are only a few more hours left until dawn, and Lailah still has a lot to think about. But something about the wind is comforting, and it's not just Dezel's doing anymore.

She is not alone anymore—so whatever tomorrow brings, she'll be ready.