Where in this world do we belong
The moon rose over Îlot Fleurie. It had some competition, with the streetlights and neon signs, but still managed to win out illumination rights somewhat, despite the fact that it was only half full. It illuminated the murals on the underpass supports, moonlight on the otherworldly ruins and the impossible staircase, making them glow faintly. And a tall, faded figure stood and watched it, his face to the moonlight, holding his tall metal staff across his body.
He became aware, after a while, that someone else was watching the moonrise with him. He glanced down.
"Pretty moon tonight, no, Shaman?" His voice was quiet and soft.
"Very." The woman who had joined him smiled. "It's beautiful."
"Yes." He was quiet for a moment. "I'd like to see the stars once in a while too, though."
The Shaman had seen the stars many, many times before. It had somehow never occurred to her before that her companion quite possibly had not.
"They'll come out," she said. "There's less smoke in the spring."
The moon continued to rise, over the silhouettes of the rooftops.
"Atahre?" the Shaman asked quietly. "How are you?"
He didn't bother to correct her on the name - he'd told her enough times that he didn't have a name, just The Mage, and that it was all right really. She seemed to be trying to change his mind about that, but gently, and he supposed that it was nice of her to make the effort to, well, be trying to turn him into a regular person. "What do you mean?"
"You've just been quiet lately. I wondered if there was anything going on."
"Oh. No. Not really."
"Atahre..." She moved a little closer to him, and reached up to touch his hand. "Tell me what's on your mind."
He sighed. "I... where are we going to be next year, Shaman?" He wound the white tip of his long braid around his finger. "We've come so far, since last year... what's going to happen to us?"
Her hand stayed resting up on his. "Oh. I don't know. None of us do, I don't think. But you won't disappear, if that's what you're thinking about. We won't disappear."
"No, it isn't that, I just... well..." He closed his eyes and swallowed, opened them again. "I don't know. I don't know, Shaman."
It should have been impossible for her to put her hands on his shoulders. He was at least two feet taller than her.* He had no idea how she was managing it. "Oh, Atahre... it's all right. It's going to be all right. I know. But we'll be all right."
"Shaman..." he said eventually.
"Irys," she said.
"What?"
"My name is Irys."
The moon went on rising. After a while, the stars came out.
A/N: This is not a pairing fic. I just want to make that clear, 'kay?
It is also, as far as I know, the only Les Chemins Invisibles fanfiction in existence. If you're a Chemins fan, please contact me, I want to talk to you!
Names: Usually I don't really love the naming-all-the-characters thing, but with Le Sillon des Reves I kind of went overboard on that and named almost the entire cast before I pulled myself back. So the Atahre/Mage thing is a compromise of sorts - I actually thought up all kinds of names for the Mage before I realized that the fact that he doesn't have a name is in fact an important character point.
*Those of you who have not seen Le Sillon des Reves: This is not a matter of La Shaman being really short and the Mage being really tall. Joan Bluteau is actually fairly tall. The Mage is a stilts walker - not an enormously tall one, but still enough to make him quite a bit taller than any normal human. Yeah, picture that.