A/N: welcome to another short installment in the ballad of Cecilia and Khujand, dear readers!
First of all, it is NOT necessary to read my other stories before reading this one. I've done my best to explain their backstories across...well, all five chapters really. Of course I would love it if you do read my other stories, but that is up to you, and it isn't required to understand this one.
Second of all, the story is finished. Like almost everything I write - including the 45 chapter story that comes after this one - I never post the first chapter until the last is already finished. Enjoy!
It was a relatively quiet afternoon in Highpass that day. Despite the uneven ground of the settlement, there were usually more people going in and out. Several earthy embankements, most of them a few dozen meters wide, formed the bulk of the Alliance city built on a sort of natural half pyramid. A general calmness typically permeated the air even on the busiest of periods, due in part to the planning of the garrison.
Few travelers were checking in at the front gates, which led through a high defensive wall made from locally cut tropical wood of Gorgrond where two heavily armored draenei warriors manning the post along with the gnomish administrator looked quite bored as they inspected the ID of a few arakkoa merchants. Further up on the next level, the tents that had been set up for other recruits - that specific part of the flat slope wasn't large enough for proper barracks - lied dormant as the off duty troops either slept or fought off the monotony with yet another card game. The highest level, protected on one side by another wall and the other by a mountainside, held the civilian buildings. A combination of contractors from Azeroth providing services and locals from Draenor trying to make a living dominated the crowded area full of narrow, poorly planned dirt paths. And one tent in particular - bearing the symbol of the neutral Steamwheedle Cartel - was where Cecilia Hearthglen found herself that afternoon, making the final preparations to return to Azeroth with her best friend, perennial partner and sister in all but blood, Irien.
The two night elf women sat in a bench at the table of the cartel's registrar, suited up in their armor and with their bags packed as if ready to undertake a long journey. And it was there, on that day, a week after their actual going away party and a day after their second rescheduling, that they sat and waited for the final approval for their departure from the alternate version of Draenor they had found themselves working on.
Fitzy, the cartel's overly enthusiastic relocation coordinator, scribbled on a few sheets of paper as she chattered away. A twenty something human, she was stationed in Ashran but had to fly out to any location on Draenor where a Steamwheedle employee applied for relocation, reassignment or resignation. She was one of only three on the planet, hence the multiple delays in the arrival of their relocation contracts.
More like a retirement contract, really, thought Cecilia. Both she and Irien had first worked off debts for the weapons and armor the cartel had issued to them when they started working security on goblin passenger ships years ago - for Cecilia, almost five years prior and for Irien, seven. Then, they purchased a duplex together in Ratchet using a company account, like most everyone else in their circle of friends. Cecilia's fiance (she had been engaged for six months) helped speed up the final payments, and after a full year of working security for Steamwheedle shipping services on Draenor, both she and Irien were in the fast lane for assignments to cartel businesses back in the port city they'd decided on as their new home - part time work only, by their choosing.
Irien planned on opening a business given all the free time she'd have working only a half day. As for Cecilia...well, when you're over twelve thousand years old, you deserve a bit of rest.
Just then, Fitzy finally mentioned what the two of them actually needed to do, snapping both Kaldorei women back into the present.
"So I just need you two to initial here and here to acknowledge that your replacements here on Draenor have been properly trained for their duties," Fitzy chirped in that annoying voice of hers that always went up at the end as though she were asking a question.
Cecilia and Irien initialed silently.
"And sign here to formally acknowledge your releases from your assignments here on Draenor," Fitzy explained carefully as though that form as any different from the one before it.
Cecilia and Irien signed silently.
"And sign here to acknowledge that the cartel waives any responsibility for your safety on the boat ride to Ashran."
Cecilia signed silently. Irien grumbled impatiently.
"And sign here to acknowledge that all responsibility for the utilities at your duplex will transfer to you upon registration with the dockmaster at Ratchet."
Cecilia and Irien signed silently.
"And initial here to formally accept your new positions at the Steamwheedle post office and way station in Ratchet."
Cecilia and Irien initialed silently.
"And initial-"
::SLAM::
"FOR GODDESS SAKE JUST GIVE US THE WHOLE STACK!" Irien bellowed while slamming her sort of longish fists on the table.
"Ohmylordydon'teatme!" Fitzy shrieked while literally falling backward out of her chair.
She hit the ground with a thud, and a bored looking draenei guard had already entered the tent. "Anything the matter?" he asked reluctantly.
"NO!" Irien shrieked right back at him while Cecilia pulled her back down to a sitting position.
Leaning in close enough such that her face was almost in Irien's messy hair, she tried to calm her younger (relatively speaking) friend down. "Come on, we're almost there. Just one more hurdle and we'll be done with all this."
"Alright then!" the guard replied as he turned tail and walked right back out without even waiting for Fitzy to to readjust her glasses.
"You guuuuuuyyyys I'm just trying to help youuuuu," the young human whined as she sat up and rubbed her head, and it took all of Cecilia's sheer power of will to keep Irien sitting rather than jumping all over Fitzy and shouting something about clobbering time.
"Thank you very much, Fitzy. My associate has a unique sense of humor. Isn't that right, Irien?" she asked the riflewoman expectantly. Irien only huffed in response and grabbed the stack herself while Fitzy searched for her shoes on her hands and knees.
Before they could even finish signing the sheets on their own and just as Fitzy managed to climb back on to the bench, the familiar irreverent prancing of light draenei hooves sounded off as the flap of the tent was pushed open.
"Cici! Irien! Today is the goings!" Anushka, one of the assistants in the cartel's shipping operations on Draenor, lamented in her broken Common. "Henceforth today I am to be having big sad!"
Ironically, Anushka seemed more giddy than sad as she forced a hug on Irien. The spaz had been a constant companion during their year long assignment, and although she would eventually be settling down in Ratchet as well, she had cried the most at the two elves' going away party the other week.
Before she could hug Cecilia - it wouldn't have had to be forced - Anushka noticed Fitzy still looking a bit dazed on the bench. "Ditzy Fitzy! You comings to us!"
"My favorite super spaz!" Fitzy chirped as she stumbled up and almost fell over again before Anushka caught her.
"You like Highpass?"
"Yeah I like Highpass!"
"You like Gorgrond?"
"Yeah, it's really neat!"
"Me also too!"
"Have you ever been to Karabor?"
"Oh yes! I'm goings Karabor usually sometimes!"
"What about Shadowmoon?"
"Yes, I was havings big visit!"
"Awesome!"
"How you likings Auchindoun!"
"I almost died, it was incredible!"
"I was almost nearby the approached of maybe sometimes perishables as welltofore!"
On and on they went, babbling about anything and everything without fatigue. As annoying as it was to listen to, it gave the two Kaldorei the time they needed to finish signing everything. There were only a dozen more sheets or so, and they didn't even bother reading them before signing. Over the past few months, they'd had plenty of time to negotiate the terms of the contract with Manny, their primary contact at Ashran. There really was nothing to review, especially after having had an extra week to mull everything over. Once the two of them finished, Cecilia rose to pull Anushka away from her long lost human twin.
"Anushka, we've been ready to go for a while, so we're going to fly out now," she explained after switching to Orcish. Herself, Anushka and Irien all understood the language well but Fitzy did not, and it allowed them to shake the irritating human off more easily.
Not taking the hint, Anushka responded in her broken Common again. "Oh greetings! I recovers from my sad now, so let you see us off!"
Irien facepalmed at the same time that Fitzy's eyes lit up. "Oh, you're leaving right now? I know the perfect way to say goodbye!" The over enthusiastic human leapt up, miraculously not falling over this time as she struck a ridiculous pose. "Did I ever tell you two about the time I led the cheer club at the academy in Stormwind?"
"A thousand times, Fitzy," Irien groaned.
"Well guess what? I was the leader of the cheer club at the academy in Stormwind!" the human repeated, impressing only Anushka. "And I just so happened to bring my pom poms for this trip!"
Mortal terror filled both night elves as the human stopped and dropped as though her clothes were on fire and rolled underneath the bottom edge of the tent, quickly fiddling with an old trunk she had stored back there earlier.
The papers signed, Cecilia tossed Anushka over her shoulders like a sack of potatoes and followed Irien, who had already bolted out of the tent flap and was running and weaving in and out of the relatively thin crowd leading toward the flight point.
"Oh! Ouch! Bouncings!" Anushka stammered while trying to brush her freshly dyed pink hair out of her eyes. "Where to - ouch! Go?"
"Don't talk! Just try not to fall!" Cecilia gasped as she literally jumped right over the heads of a few worgen waiting in line at a hawker stall for a couple of scones. "We don't have much time before Fitzy figures out where we went!"
The brand new flight point was just within view ahead, in between a new leather working shop and a dealer in small metal components for tools and vehicles. The planning for the settlement was haphazard, but at that moment the uneven roads and buildings made for an easy maze to slow down the cheery horror looking to thrust her overly enthusiastic performance on them.
Their bags were waiting for them next to the flight master, along with Vegnus, the area co-manager for Steamwheedle operations. A relatively skinny dwarf sporting a rather short beard and a youthful demeanor, he carefully guarded Cecilia and Irien's belongings as they were fastened to two insectoid mounts ready for launch. After the going away party the other week, he and Anushka were the only people from their social circle left at the settlement, and given that the two night elves had already said their goodbyes, there was no reason to linger. Especially when Fitzy was on the prowl.
Setting Anushka down next to Vegnus like a potted plant, Cecilia quickly shook the dwarf's hand and dodged Anushka's attempt to literally kiss her while giving her a hug. Though normally a practical joker and an instigator, Vegnus had expressed to Cecilia earlier his understanding both of the fact that he would see them in Ratchet in a few months anyway and that both women disliked long goodbyes. Shaking Irien's hand and nodding without any silly jokes, he spoke quickly as the flight master helped them ascend the bizarre flying mounts.
"Khujand will have left already, right?" Vegnus asked in reference to the Darkspear troll Cecilia was engaged to.
"That's right, he has a much longer flight than us and will probably have made a pit stop at the Cenarion Circle settlement up north," she said in a rush while strapping her belt on to the saddle safety ropes. "He'll need to give them a proper goodbye for the sake of building a relationship once we're in the Barrens. He still wants to learn a healing spell, and teaching voodoo is illegal under Horde law now, so he'll have to cross train in another school of magic." She didn't even know why she was explaining all that now, but Cecilia felt nervous both at the coming boat trip through hostile waters and the fact that this would be the first time either of them traveled long distances as neutral individuals rather than members of one of the two major factions. Much less while traveling together, to a new life.
"About damn time he learns te heal!" Vegnus laughed while helping Irien don her flying gloves. "I've seen that man take wounds that'd kill most people twice over. Plus, his resurrection spell isn't much use when he can't patch people up after the fact."
"Vegnus, we'll miss you, see you on the other side, don't do anything crazy, watch your back, yadda yadda yadda," Irien chortled while leaning over as much as she could on her saddle to give the short man a big hug.
"Ye two take care of yeselves, and take care of that fiancé of yers, Cici," he laughed while pulling out his guitar and strumming it lightly. "Ye, me, Anushka here, Yara, Kiul...we're all going to be neighbors in a quiet, conflict free life soon."
"That's what the good guy says before getting whacked," Irien countered as she donned her flying goggles and put her gnomish engineered day vision goggles in her backpack.
"Goddess light your paths!" Cecilia hummed while putting her own goggles and gloves on. Her insectoid mount flapped its wings as she started to say something else, only to be interrupted by the sound of wood splintering.
::CRASH::
"Oh yeaaaaahhh!" Fitzy cried out while literally jumping through and smashing the wall of the leather workers' shop.
She had somehow changed into a sweater and skirt with the colors of the Alliance, and had brought with her her pom poms and a full dosage of crazy. Cecilia and Irien's mounts took off just in time, and Fitzy knocked several patrons waiting in line for flights off the flight platform as she tried in vain to fly through the air after them. Shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly, Vegnus started singing "Ave Maria" while playing his guitar, and the last thing Cecilia saw were the guards hauling Fitzy away for destruction of property while Anushka tried to negotiate her release in draenei language.
Sharing a smirk with Irien, Cecilia kicked her heels and picked up speed as they flew toward the northeast coast of Gorgrond. The co-factional ship would likely be docking at a settlement of the native Laughing Skull orcs - new members of the Horde but not hostile toward the Alliance per se - and they had a flight that might last just under an hour.
"A whole year in another dimension," Cecilia laughed across the wind to her best friend.
"We served our time. Now we need a lot of rest!" Irien laughed right back as they raced toward the coastline.
And after so many millennia of waiting, Cecilia thought, she would finally be a civilian. She would finally have a normal life.
The wind blew only lightly over the snowy fields of Frostfire Ridge that morning. Though the temperature was slightly less chilly than other parts of the year, adventurers from Azeroth still needed to bundle up a little more than the native orcs of Draenor. It was a harsh, desolate landscape, and there was no better a setting for such a somber scene.
Beyond the white capped hills lied the settlement of Thunder Pass, a bustle of activity from Horde contractors from Azeroth and local Frostwolf orcs forming a thriving community and a bulwark against the forces of the Iron Horde. Though somewhat poorly planned, it was huge and full of life, and would likely outlive the war campaign and become a major city on the planet in its own right. Caravans moved in and out of the main entrance ramp and wind riders patrolled overhead, monitoring the Iron Bulwark for any activity of Grom Hellscream's forces. By and large, the settlement had been at peace for a very long time. As a whole, at least.
On the other side of the rocky hills sat the local cemetery, far out of view of most inhabitants. Per the customs of the orcs, the graves were simple, not raised above ground level and only had plain, smooth stones to mark the individual resting places. One grave in particular had a downcast visitor.
Wrapped in furs, a large man with a light blue complexion and bright red mane knelt and rested a hand on one of the graves. Two four inch long knubs that had once been long tusks poked out of his mouth, which had been pulled into a solemn frown. His short beard bobbed up and down as he murmured a quiet prayer of farewell to someone who had affected him so much.
"Jarinta...I told ya last week I'd be leavin' taday," Khujand spoke to the grave softly. "And now it's time. I had only been here on this planet...what, not even a week, not even a week on tha outside, when we met. And it took another two weeks before we said more than a few words ta each other...and then ya were gone."
The man's voice cracked emotionally, but a slight smile crept on to his face. He swore he would never forget, and he meant it. "Sometimes I wish I had known of ya health condition. Maybe I woulda made more attempts to reach out. Maybe things woulda been different. Or maybe..." Inhaling and then exhaling deeply, the man relaxed his shoulders. "Maybe it was supposed ta happen tha way it did. That ya would live ya short life...ya unfairly short life ta tha fullest, without mopin' or lettin' it keep ya down."
A slight breeze blew some of the snow over the grave, burying it as it had the others. Even though he knew it would be buried again once he left and then lost in time as the graves of all orphans end up, he brushed it off. As long as he lived, her memory would stay alive. That was all he could do.
"I don't know if it's...creepy, that I only knew ya for one evenin' and now ya memory is affectin' me so much. But it is. Ya were a great kid. A great kid..." he murmured, letting a breath shudder before he continued. "My own daughter is almost ya age now. I only saw her twice. Now, I'm leavin' and ya gonna stay buried here, on another planet, in an anonymous grave. But ya gonna live on. And I...I'm gonna contact my daughter. I'm legally barred from doin' so, but I gotta try ta see her again. Just one time, ta know her mama and her new daddy are takin' care of her. That's enough. I guess sort of how I know seeyin' ya one last time here is enough. Cause ya memory is still with me. And I'm never gonna let it go."
Silence took over for a moment as the man looked at the grave for a while, steeling his nerve for the symbolic gesture that had proven so difficult for him. Now, it was the morning of his departure, and he would never, ever be on this planet again. He would have to do it, and do it fast.
"Goodbye."
Heavy footsteps plodded through the snow as Khujand made his way back to Thunder Pass, adjusting the harpoon strapped to his back. He would need the fifteen minutes or so of the hike to calm down after yet another emotional milestone in his return to life on the outside.
It had been a year and a month or two since he had been released from prison. He had served a good six years and some change for crimes that he hadn't committed, though the crimes that he DID commit were much worse than what he had been convicted of. Through judicial corruption, his lawyer had swapped his identity with another prisoner for the sake of convenience; apparently, Khujand's willingness to sign confessions for crimes neither he nor the other criminal involved in the identity swap had committed allowed a particularly embarrassing case to be closed for Horde officials, and the man formerly known as Garot'jin the war criminal became known as Khujand the highway robber. Further corruption and negotiation on the part of his lawyer led to him being released a year early on the condition that he take part in the first push through the Dark Portal into the Tannan Jungle, a suicide march if there ever was one. If he survived - and he did - he could live out his parole while fighting the Iron Horde on Draenor and then be returned to Azeroth to his own devices. That he was a particularly skilled hero - a shadow hunter, one of the champions of the trolls - meant that he had been set loose after Tanaan to fight Hellscream's forces as he saw fit, rather than being forced into some garrison guard role.
But freedom had terrified him initially. He had no home, no true identity and not a soul in either world to care for him. It was only by chance that, after his first month on the planet, he had been saved by Cecilia and Irien while stranded in Gorgrond with a dead mount and no food or map. Recognizing her as a prisoner of war he had illegally set free many years before, they quickly reconnected with each other. The rest, as they say, was history.
As Khujand ascended the ramp into Thunder Pass to collect his things and say his last goodbyes, he still wondered if it was all real. Every other night, he went to sleep expecting to wake up back in prison in the morning, realizing that his release, his freedom and his newfound love were all a mocking dream. His recurring issues with mental and emotional instability didn't help, either.
Like me, echoed a voice in his head independent of his own conscious thought.
"Shut up," Khujand said out loud, not noticing the odd stares he received from people he passed by on the beaten paths of the settlement as he talked to his inner monologue.
The numerous shops and warehouses of the town were surprisingly well built considering that most of the growth had occurred during the first three weeks of the campaign, right when he had arrived. He passed by their porches and windows for what would be the last time, wondering where life would take him next. He had moved so many times. Born in the far north of Stranglethorn Vale, his family moved to a larger town as refugees before joining the entirety of the Darkspear tribe on their isle off the coast. Constant harassment from the rival Bloodscalp tribe drove them across the ocean to the Lost Isles. Once again refugees when that island sank, he joined the Horde with the rest of his people in Durotar, then fought in Ashenvale and Hyjal during the Third War and staying on for further military service afterward. His six year prison sentence that followed was a huge chunk of his life considering that he had just turned twenty eight years old. Add a year on another planet, and he really did feel the instability of having no home until now.
He rounded a corner as he approached the inn where he had been living, finally smiling deeply as he thought of Cecilia, his fiancé. As different as her life had been, she was similar in terms of what influenced her the most. She initially lived in only two places: two thousand years in Suramar and then ten thousand in Serenity, a tiny night elf grove of only twenty five female inhabitants. Yet despite that huge amount of time, it affected her very little; the monotony of performing the same duties day in and day out dulled her feelings, memory and sense of time. The ten years since her people had lost their immortality and begun ageing left a much stronger imprint on her personality. Her emotions returned, her sense of time relativity returned, her very self and consciousness returned. And she, too, had been a traveler.
After committing her own fair share of atrocities during war, she had been captured and then set free by him only to wallow in guilt from the innocent people she'd killed at the Warsong Lumber camps. She bottomed out in Booty Bay as so many naive people of all ages did, and spiraled into a few years of drug abuse and poverty followed by labor exploitation only to snag a job on the goblin passenger ships. She'd pulled herself back up on her feet much better than he had, and she was not only his fiancé and future wife but also his inspiration.
That's your new life, the inner voice told him. The two of you own property in a neutral town when most of the world's population lives in serfdom and can't read. Be positive.
Sighing as he entered the inn funded by goblin money, Khujand relented and admitted to himself that the disembodied voice was right. He'd woken up every morning for the year since he and Cecilia had been together, including the first six months before getting engaged and committing to more than just writing letters and visiting each other via flying mount when possible. And on every single one of those mornings, this life had still been real. It wasn't a dream.
The inn was empty save the owner, Ushka, the middle aged Orc female who had overseen its construction and management under the auspices of the goblin investor who realized money was to be made off of the adventurers fighting Hellscream. Khujand had said his goodbyes to everyone save her, and as he watched her from behind as she sat on a chair in the dining area and read a novel, he couldn't help but hesitate.
After living anonymously in military camps once he made it out of Tanaan, he had wound up at the Battle of Thunder Pass only to find himself camping out in the cold like many of the heroes and heroines afterward. The inn only partially complete, Ushka had taken the socially awkward man in as a charity case and gave him menial work while he tried to get situated and find more significant ways to fight the Iron Horde. Not once did Ushka ever complain about him taking up one bed that could have been rented to guests, or about his random, often weeklong trips to other parts of Draenor for trysts with a night elf (Cecilia might not be a member of the Alliance, but her race was still viewed as enemies of the Horde). Ushka had been nothing but kind and accommodating, and that made Khujand feel like a leech.
Thinking twice before actually touching the very self possessed matron, he settled for sitting in the chair next to her. She greeted him quietly as she finished reading the page she was on, even responding to the handful of inappropriately timed questions he asked her before she had finished reading.
Once she was done with her page, she set the book down to look at him.
"So this is it, then. Your bags are packed and ready at the door."
He glanced over to see his oversized bag right where he had walked in. He had returned his copy of the key to the bedroom for the hired men before visiting little Jarinta's grave, and took a moment to lay his former harpoon against the wall for the others to use as they saw fit. In a technical sense, everything was ready for his departure save the signing of his release from parole at the registrar's office near the flight point, where he had already booked a rylak (he was too heavy to ride anything else) the day before.
"Yeah...I guess it's time, then," he sighed, unable to conceal his sadness.
Playing it off at first, Ushka continued looking at him blankly. "It's for the best. You've changed considerably over the past year, Khujand. You still have a few quirks to straighten out, but - for the most part - you're almost becoming normal."
He forced a smile despite the crushing awkwardness he felt around her. So much did he want to say, yet so little did he understand how to express it. She continued looking at him as if she knew there was more, which only added to the tension in the back of his neck.
Make small talk. It will help you ease in to things.
"Ushka...when the campaign against the Iron Horde is over, where will you go?" he asked meekly. "Will you stay here?"
Forcing a smile of her own, she appeared deep in thought for a moment before answering. "I really don't understand how this whole alternate timeline thing works,"'she started, choosing her words carefully. "All I know is what is in front of me; the here and now. And here, now, we have a decent amount of customers coming in even during the weekends. My attachment isn't to a specific place; it's to wherever we can make a living," she said in reference to the younger workers she treated like children.
"So even if ya stay in another timeline?"
"Makes no difference to me," she replied while shaking her head.
The silence drifted in again, and he saw no other way to make proper amends before he left. He had done so at the grave of Jarinta, as well as with the friends he would be seeing in Ratchet such as Valmar and the friends he wasn't so sure of whether he'd ever see them again or not such as Toruk. Ushka was different from them all. She deserved a little less formality.
"Ushka, I gotta ask...and please, tell me the truth," he whispered despite them being alone. "Dya think that I'm, ya know...bailing out too early?"
Not understanding his question or his apprehension, she began discussing current events in an animated fashion. "No, of course not, Khujand. The conditions for your parole were a year's service and you did exactly that. You even helped kill Blackhand; you more than did your part," she chortled. "Plus, the campaign against the Iron Horde is really winding down; I don't think they have that much fight left in them."
"Uh...well, Ushka, I meant my time here, with ya and tha inn," he stammered uncomfortably.
"What do you mean?" she asked sincerely, truly not seeming to understand what his point was.
"Ushka, ya took me in. I was one week out of prison, just a wanderin' soldier. Ya didn't know me, ya didn't know if ya could trust me, and ya gave me a bed and a job. And those two things are tha most basic things a person needs ta live." He had to resist placing his hand on hers, realizing that she was a far cry from the touchy feely type. "Dya feel like I exploited ya generosity?"
Though she never mothered or babied anybody, she did flash him a smile that he felt was reassuring. "Khujand, this is what I do. It's what I know. Every one of you here has a story, usually one that isn't pleasant, that lead you to this inn. And when you're gone, your bunk will likely be taken by someone else trying to get back on their feet." She leaned back as if the short, brief sentence was her entire piece and the matter was closed. "You accepted my help, and you helped right back. And I couldn't be happier than to see you move on."
In spite of her kind words, he didn't quite feel all the tension leave him. Perhaps it would have been easier if she resented him, or held something against him for trotting in to her establishment for a warm place to stay like a dog in the alley. That she seemed fully content for him to just up and leave felt anticlimactic.
Picking up her novel again, she looked at the surface of the table and for the first time in a year, he saw a glint in her eye. It was very faint, very subtle, but very real. And when she spoke, her sadness would have been concealed from anyone else who didn't know her that well.
"Go on now, your fiancé will be waiting for you at Broken Horn. Enjoy your life after war." Looking at him one last time with a softness that made him feel like he was at the home he'd lost upon his identity switch, she let him see the full extent of how difficult their parting was for her as well. "I hate long goodbyes. Come on, off with you. It's time to move on."
She began to read her novel again, and he didn't prod for anything more. He would have loved to chat more, but after all she had done, he couldn't help but oblige. If she didn't want to drag things out, he had no right to force her.
Rising and walking over to his bags slowly, he watched her back as he tried to take the place in for the last time. Much like the village he had been born in or the Lost Isle he had spent his adolescence on, there would be no way to ever visit this place again. It had shaped him in so many ways, yet like Jarinta, would live on only as a memory.
Khujand picked up his bags, fingering the necklace Cecilia had given him. It would take some work to reconcile his moving on to a happy new life while still remembering this period fondly without feeling sad. And when he heard what he could have sworn to be a sniffle from Ushka, it became too overwhelming for him, and he made his final exit.
