She avoided the dock the following day. Even as the Estharian ambassador meandered Fisherman's Horizon throughout their talks, Rinoa steered their path away from the boats and pier. Salt permeated the air, the constant breeze carried the seagulls' calls, and Seifer Almasy was out of sight.
Her mind drifted. Rinoa struggled to focus on the blather, waiting for the ambassador to arrive at the objective. For a nation which valued speed and precision, the ambassador's rambling was as much of a culture shock to Rinoa as the rest of the world was to Esthar. Perhaps stationary solitude in a massive metropolis mystified most Estharians.
Pertinent threads wove through the grandiose prattle. Rinoa perked up at mentions of Timber's current technology holding the basic foundations which built Esthar. Further development required knowledge only Esthar held. Images of Timber elevating to a proper city left Rinoa smiling. Trains morphed into hover transport. Local radio towers refined into smaller equipment, yet quadrupled in prowess. The enthusiasm for change already brewed in each citizen's heart—it was simply a matter of convincing them that Esthar wasn't a threat.
And in reply to Esthar's initial request, Timber sent the woman that every living human hesitated before.
Rinoa smiled and nodded. Anything to put the ambassador and the twenty-five companions lingering behind—she counted this time—at ease. The neutral location could only benefit her so much; all else was on Rinoa.
They rounded a corner and whatever words Rinoa fashioned died on her tongue. Walking towards them was the individual she failed to elude. Of course he made eye contact. Of course he headed straight for her.
Seifer smirked and Rinoa glared. With a deep inhale, she soothed the magic wishing to burst from her fingertips to a simmer.
"Excuse me for a moment," Rinoa said to the ambassador.
She wouldn't use her powers to jerk Seifer into the nearby nook of a back alley. Not in public, let alone in front of Estharians. Instead, she softened her features and curled her fingers at him. He followed, either too dumb to guess her intentions or smart enough to know declining was not an option.
"I'm starting to wonder," Seifer began, his voice a quiet, yet snide rumble, "if you're following me—"
"Me?!" Rinoa whipped around, skewered him with narrowed eyes, and matched his tone in rushed whispers. "Of all the people in this damn place, you are the one who should be answering questions, not me."
He squinted and folded his arms. "Says the sorceress who is consorting with the nation who wants her locked up forever."
"At least they don't want to execute me for any crimes." Seifer visibly lost several inches in height. A short-lived smirk flashed across her lips, replaced with a frown. "What are you even doing here?"
"Tch, what's it to you?"
"Seifer, I thought you were dead." She paused, dropped her gaze, and clung to the single ring dangling from her necklace—her mother's wedding band. "We all did."
Distant waves filled the silence between them. Rinoa forced out a sigh, as if it cleansed herself from the memories. Her initial brush with Esthar since time corrected itself was a far cry from her current interactions. Toxic words poured from each mouth. Every finger stabbed in her direction. Esthar wanted justice and rightly so. Rinoa couldn't reverse the events involving Lunatic Pandora nor could she—or anyone—find who was responsible for the catastrophe.
"Well," Seifer said with a defeated shrug, "I'm alive. Happy?"
"But how?"
"What do you mean how?" The increased volume of his voice was worrisome. "You want a damn picture book of the whole thing? Will that help?"
"No, it's—"
"Maybe you should keep pretending I'm dead, alright? That would be better for everyone." He rolled his eyes and shook his head, cynical amusement tugging the corners of his lips. "Now I have to spend every waking moment worried about those Esthar morons and whether or not they recognized my face just then." Another pause. Rinoa held both her breath and that intense, cyan gaze. "I've been laying low for a reason. I'm not stupid. Sadly can't turn invisible, but this?" He gestured to himself and their surroundings. "This is the closest I've gotten to disappearing. People aren't inclined to fuss about much. Also helps I never set foot here until after... well, everything. No one remembers who I am or what I did. Better that way."
Rinoa raised an eyebrow. "So you're spending your time fishing?"
"Working the docks. Not the same thing. The hell do you care what I do with my life?"
"Okay... but that's it? Just stick around until you grow old—"
"Is there a point to all of this?"
"The point is that you've been a ghost for six years and now we can't stop bumping into each other."
Scant laughter escaped Seifer. "Funny how that works, isn't it?"
Except it wasn't funny. Not even close. Rinoa balled her hands into fists and clenched her jaw.
"Fine," Seifer said through a sigh. "Excuse me for intruding on your day. You got more important shit to focus on, right? Being the hero of Timber or whatever title they decided to give you?"
Rinoa's spine stiffened. "You... heard about that?"
"Tch, hard not to. Every damn radio frequency wouldn't shut up about the resistance member turned sorceress and her efforts to establish independence and restore peace in Timber and blah blah blah. Can't lie—was rather proud to hear you were doing well."
She swore her heart stopped and her mouth dried up. "Proud?"
Seifer shrugged and averted his gaze. "I don't know. Guess I was happy that at least one of us was doing well. Figured I'd let you know. That's all. Didn't have any other reason to stroll on up to you but to congratulate your efforts. So yeah. That's done with." He pivoted away. "I'll stay out of your life now."
Her eyes followed him as he trudged out of the cramped alley. She didn't reemerge immediately, consumed by contemplation. The night he found her in the pub and approached her... Jaded sadness marked his face. Nothing worthy of pride—for her or himself.
The thought plunged her deeper into her memories. Little separated them when they first met. They laughed over shared jokes, dared one another to commit minor, yet ridiculous acts of rebellion, and refused to bend for anything, even each other. Rinoa never felt more alive than she did that summer. In that fraction of time, she considered him a kindred spirit—a perfect mirror image of herself.
She knew better now. No one was her other half; she needed to live for herself first and foremost. From her early days with the Timber Owls to her awakening as a sorceress, it was never enough to change who she truly was. Still, a cracked mirror continued to display a reflection.
And when she gazed upon Seifer, she discovered her image reflecting back.
Steadying her breaths, she abandoned the alley and returned to the curious, yet patient group. Rinoa swallowed the myriad thoughts and questions saved for Seifer until one remained—maybe she already knew why he frowned the other night at the pub.