Thunder rumbled in the distance. Flowers rustled their leaves, swaying with the laughing winds. Stars gossiped behind curtains of dark clouds, anticipating the song of the rain. Gusts blew across the streets of Mysidia, lifting dust high into the air and across the empty roads.

Palom shuffled along, hands in his pockets, shoulders easy. The Elements were at play that evening. It was rare that they let themselves loose like this, laughing it up, sending fissures of light across the blackening skies. Maybe it was, like, divine reassurance. Yeah. The Elements knew it every moment of every lifetime, from the first sprout of a seed to its first petal yawning to life; and they were, on the whole, indifferent to the changes of the cosmos. It was just the Way of Things. No matter what went on in the lives of humans, the thunder rolled and sneered on nights like these. Clouds threatened to let free the drops of rain tucked away in their skirts.

Divine reassurance. Nobody was taking this down. Palom inhaled the cold, then exhaled a gentle warmth. So Porom's advice wasn't so helpful. Wasn't the first time that happened (and it probably wouldn't be the last). And, once he had become a Sage, there would be plenty of time for history to start penning down his embarrassments.

… Still. Still! Questions buzzed around his brain, picking at the flesh like a bunch of eager, midsummer mosquitoes. Porom didn't know the secret behind the secret. Porom could know he was anxious, and that he was sexually attracted to this young woman, but what could she know of Leonora? He was too chicken to tell her about the other night. So, well, what if Leonora was itching to confess her feelings? What if she wanted to go out with him? Would there be feelings involved? Was that mandatory for absolutely all relationships? He felt like a fish out of water, flapping unto certain death. His questions may as well have been mosquito turds. They were about that helpful. M-Maybe he should have just told Porom. Maybe then the fear wouldn't feel like a cold stone lodged in his chest, or a flock of birds flapping around his head.

Lightning giggled quietly, a shy maiden behind a curtain of light. Telling Porom was a breach in confidence, and Palom fancied himself a gentleman. Shoot. If Leonora had meant for her feelings to be public knowledge, she wouldn't have been talking like a little baby to that gods-damned flower in the first place. At least he was doing the decent thing and protecting her secret. Even if he felt like a horrible liar, or like creepy con artist, tucking the secret away into the depths his heart. Guilt and fear and restless anger vomited all over his judgment. He didn't even know how he felt, let alone-

Mightily did the thunder roar, announcing the sudden onslaught of a mercilessly cold and sharp rain. Just his fucking luck. Palom dashed across the block, his hand a feeble visor on his brow. The downpour sang shrilly into the silence, rushing and gushing like an airborne waterfall. Splash, splash, splash! went his every footfall. Dust turned to mud, clinging to the soles of his pointy-toed boots. Goodbye, sweet leather. Quickly, gratefully, he found himself stumbling onto Leonora's porch, hand on the knob, forehead to the wood, soaked to the bone. He stood there for a moment to catch his breath. The drip-drop of water to wood swallowed the sounds of his panting.

Then, a far-off voice trickled into his mind: "I tried to tell him today."

Chills prickled his skin, teasing goosebumps from the flesh. He stared blankly at the faded brass of her door knob. Inhale, exhale. Should he even be here? Were they really just friends anymore? Maybe-Maybe she wasn't as different as she had seemed to be these past two or three years. Inhale, exhale. Maybe she was the same bubbly girl who wrapped herself in robes of shyness whenever she walked out the door. Maybe her cooking still tasted the same. Inhale, exhale. It wasn't like he could predict the weather. (His tunic felt sticky-wet.) Besides, real friendships didn't spontaneously combust under the pressure of a crush. He'd known that firsthand, since the time that they were kids.

"We'll talk theory. And childhood."

With a swallow, he straightened his spine, rolled back his shoulders, and knocked the door. After a moment, the plopping pressure and creaking wood of footsteps could be heard from within as she approached. She stood behind the door for a moment. He held his breath. One dragon-talon, two dragon-talon, three… Fifteen seconds later, the door creaked open, revealing a dry Leonora, small, daffodils tucked between the strands of her flaxen hair. Slowly, her shy, little smile stretched to a demure excitement. Her cheeks glowed the colors of a spring rose. It must've spread to his cheeks, too, because he could feel the heat rise in his face, and his heart skipped a beat. Damn. He wasn't sure what he was so-impressed-by. She wasn't dressed much differently than earlier, excepting the daffodils. And the twinkle of the stars in her eyes. (Was that where they were hiding tonight?) And the bare feet. He noticed the mud on her toes and swallowed, struggling to smile. Three dragon-talons later, he decided it was easier to frown.

"I'm sorry about the weather." Leonora gave him way, stepping aside, opening the door wider. "I didn't know it would rain, but… l-let me take your coat!"

He drifted inside, careful to step on the grainy welcome rug adjacent to the door. As he slipped off his mucky shoes, his eyes wandered around the room. Well, there he was. At the destination. Invited to her house. Living the dream, as Porom so readily pointed out, much to his annoyance. Might as well soak it all in while he still had the chance.

Come to think of it, this grainy mat was the same that Leila Pule placed here the day that Palom and Leonora trekked mud into her house after a long day of butterfly-hunting. Not only that, but those old, leather couches with the cracks in their skin had been there about that long, too. Ari Sterling would sink his rump into its cushions, back when it was new, and rest his big, Baronite feet on the short, flat table between the sofas. (Without a coaster, much to the annoyance of his wife, Leonora would giddily recount with invariable frequency.)

It was messier than he remembered, but that made sense, too. Studious Leonora lived alone, and had no reason to put away the many books laid about, let alone return them to their shelves. A pile on the side table, where a lamp had previously rested, stood with all the pride of a tower, though it was less than a decimal of the size. A particular volume called out to him, familiar in that it was half the size of the table, but his focus was broken as soon as Leonora slipped the jacket off his shoulders, and he found himself blushing like a little schoolgirl.

The smell of red chili powder and turmeric wafted lazily into the room. He remembered the first time she had made that chili. He was nine, she was twelve. They had decided to have a slumber party, their very first in a tradition of many over the following four years. He told his jokes and she giggled her giggles. They made shadow puppets in the lamplight and told each other stories about crickets and spiders and bees. She loved that kind of thing. He loved the way she giggled.

It was like he had stepped into a portal and traveled back in time. Back to home.

"Thanks for having me or whatever." He sniffed, stuffing his idle hands into his pant pockets. He was a guest in this house. "I thought the house would look different on the inside, somehow."

Hanging his coat neatly on the rack, she chuckled. "Nah. I'm too sentimental. Also, the chili is finished, so we could eat it whenever you're hungry. It'll warm you right up."

"Sure, yeah. Thanks." He pursed his lips, as if this would dull the blush glowing on his cheeks. Rubbing his arm awkwardly, he decided to slip off his shoes. "Maybe a little later, though."

She made a noise of affirmation and gestured toward the couch. As she plopped into the cushion, she stifled her girlish giggles. Suddenly, he felt self-conscious, and his face stiffened, and his lips sealed tightly shut. Turning to him, she patted the spot beside her. "Sit with me, Pallie!" Eyes met eyes. "Get it?" Hers crinkled and twinkled, and her nose crumpled up. Her voice came softly, as if from a distant world. "A'cause you're my pal!"

His frown twisted up into a smile. He chuckled a little and plopped beside her. However contented it was, it would not do to sigh as easily as his body hoped, so he swallowed the air in his throat instead. His bottom sank easily into the leather cushion. She set her bare feet on the table. Ari would be proud. Palom counted her toes and the slabs of mud between their gaps. Maybe because he was so distracted, his own voice sounded far-off, too, the way it was filled with warmth. "You're cute, but please don't call me that."

"I'm cute, am I?"

She leaned forward, their noses almost touching. Her thick lashes fluttered like butterfly wing-beats. Thump, thump, thump went his heart. Palom held his breath. For a moment suspended, her eyes were the universe, and he could see all the stars of the night sky swimming in a lake of crystal blue. A pair of dilated pupils pulsed at their centers. Her breath touched his lips and tickled his nostrils. He blushed darkly, he knew, because his cheeks were on fire; but she withdrew too quickly for him to know for sure if she had noticed, and she burst into a merry laughter, her head held back.

"Well, okay, I won't," she conceded. The wrinkle in her brow prickled his heart a smidgen. Tiny hopes wove constellations in her eyes, though he could not name them. "It's not nice to call you things you don't like. Then, can I call you Pal?"

He squinted. The nervous knots in his throat pinched his voice. "No," he said flatly. Flat enough to put pancakes to shame. Shit.

Her face fell, but she sighed and nodded all the same. "Okay. Palom it is." Then, a chuckle. "Sheesh, for all that you have changed, this is the one thing that stayed the same, huh?"

"Hah! I've changed?" He lifted an eyebrow, leaning into the back of the couch, a smug smirk on his lips. "That's rich. You're the one who's gone all coy and quiet and ladylike."

"I was always quiet." Her fists opened and closed in her lap, shuffling around the folds of her dress. "I'm-I'm a shy girl."

"You weren't before."

"I was! I am! You-You forgot, you big silly." All the same, her giggling grew, as if he'd taken to tickling her. She let her back sink into the cushions, too. Her head rested along the rim. "It was different with you. I was comfortable with you. But I've always been self-conscious of myself around people, especially if they're older or… in higher positions." Her head rolled in his way. "Lord Elder."

He frowned, but met her gaze. "Is that really the truth?" He hoped not.

Those restless hands came to a halt, save for the quivering of fingers. Leonora looked away, unsmiling, a crease between her eyebrows. Pale pink seeped into the pores of her round cheeks. She proceeded gently, in the way a skilled artist might tiptoe across a tightrope. "It's part of the truth. Another is that we have been apart for eight years."

He wanted to feel sympathy for her. He wanted to put his (friendly) arms around her and tell her it was all in the past. Instead, he swallowed, as if this would dull the pins in his pincushion heart. She shouldn't have left if she would regret it. It wasn't so hard, was it? To think before you act? Maybe it was the price she paid for overlooking the love she had in this town. Maybe she learned life lessons the Hard Way. Whatever it was, the more Palom reflected, the more pins lodged themselves in his chest. He opted to look out the window, watching the rain trickle down the glass. Droplets converged into streams, like rivers made of tears.

"You just… left." He wanted her to say something. To explain. "You didn't even write."

The cushions shifted and squeaked as she fidgeted. Readjusting, he figured. She was trying to get comfortable. Thunder cackled. Water dripped and danced on a stage of glass and earth. Formless, fickle, free-falling water. It could do whatever it pleased, and the world would bow to its will.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I just… I really needed to leave this place."

Bitterness sank teeth into his heart like a voracious Sword Rat. The question of why hung in the air, waiting to be asked. It made him even more nauseous than the chili. If she really cared about their friendship, she would have said something before stealing away into the night like a dirty traitor. That he wouldn't tell her-what kind of friend was she?

"It wasn't you or Porom or anyone else." He wondered where her lovely eyes were staring. He didn't look. "It was this place, and… I don't know. Not any single person, but everyone as-as a whole. It's hard to not be a part of everyone else." She sighed, and her breath was heavy, like it carried a brick-pile burden on its back. "I was fed up with feeling like I'm all by myself. I tried, I really did, but it just never helped."

He glanced at her quietly, making no major shift, taking care not to disrupt the quiet. What did she expect him to say, really? That she hadn't abandoned her young friend to the isolation of a few years? That she hadn't betrayed the trust of a boy who thought the world of her? His soul rattled like a rusted chain. Reason and Feelings tugged at each end, playing jump rope with their pals Truth and Deception and Love. Dammit, Leonora. His arms ached to rise up and curl around her. He longed to tell her he understood. No matter how angry he could get, nor how deep she had culled the loneliness in him, he hadn't stopped caring about her.

Except, he didn't understand. Other people loved her back then, too. Other people cared about her. And he was people, wasn't he? And Porom was people, too. And he had always seen her hanging around with Iyas. She even spoke to Mu'in, that no-good, bullying cur, when Palom wasn't around. Dira visited to make sure she was okay. How could his Leonora say no one gave a shit about her? That was practically the whole town!

Then again, feelings could be irrational sometimes. Knots and nestles and vines tangled up his throat, growing thorns in his flesh. He could taste Emptiness on his tongue, the gaps in time between them, the holes in his heart, in the world, in the fabric of space and time. Irrational feelings could be overwhelming, okay? Maybe she was sick with them. Sick with a hungry, throbbing Loneliness.

"It happens, Leah," he said softly, giving her a half smile. When she looked up at him, his lips tingled, and his smile twisted up something goofy.

"I'm here now," whispered Leonora. "And we've got plenty of years ahead of us, don't we?"

A pause. The tingly-feeling didn't go away. He wondered if it was possible to get high by sharing breathing air with a woman.

To save himself from fainting, he hurried on, "Speaking of Troia, Porom said she needs someone to go there and train the new Epopt that's going to replace you. Apparently, they've been operating this long with only seven."

"They have the Chancellor, so they are never altogether helpless. It's just ideal that they have all eight together, for the sake of the Crystal. And, well, they get immensely busy, what with the redistribution of their ritual duties. That's why they don't have the time to train another themselves…"

"She wanted to know if you would go." He twitched his shoulders. "If you're done with your training."

Her lashes fluttered and she went quiet. Then, thoughtfully, she said, "I've been meaning to speak to you about that."

"Go on."

"W-Well…" She rubbed her palms and crossed one foot over the other. "I taught myself Osmose."

He blinked. His face went stiff.

Did he hear her right?

"With Minn's outdated method?" He tried to hide the anger in his voice. It came out in a hiss. "How? Since when?"

"It's been two weeks." She couldn't look him in the eye anymore. She shrank into herself, looking to her lap. "We've been talking theory so much that I got a little restless. I understand that being able to conceptualize different theories allows me to think about several types of spell-casting methods, but that's why I wanted to see if I could learn it on my own. I was-"

"Reckless." He looked over the flesh of her arms, then her neck and shoulders, then her face, checking to see if the Elements had done right by her or wrong. When he saw no marks, he relaxed. It wasn't the most dangerous of methods, but a novice would easily have burned themselves learning as simple a spell as Fire. Who knew what the repercussions could have been if she had fucked up a high level magic like Osmose?

And he had warned her about the fickle moods of the Elements. No one could quite place their desires, let alone understand them. They existed on a plane far beyond anyone else. If these forces had indeed decided to seize something from her, what could he do to save her?

Heatedly, he stared at her, fighting the urge to grit his teeth. She looked up at him, her eyes begging for forgiveness. Just two or three years ago, this woman was a complete novice. In such a short time, she had learned to teach herself magic… under his tutelage, of course.

"Leonora," he said slowly, "I'm glad that you were able to complete your training on your own, but if you were restless, you should have said something to me."

"O-Oh, well, I…" She twiddled her fingers, her lashes aflutter with all the words she was about to say. Then, the implications sunk in, and she nodded slowly. "Y-Yes, I'm sorry… It's just that, well-our lessons, they've-they've become so very informal, lately, and…" She wound a lock of hair around the shell of her ear. "I'm sorry. I thought it would mean to you that you taught me well, and that I had finally become independent. You know, because philosophers of the past cultivated their magicks in solitude all the time, and…"

It was the duty of scholars of magic to experiment and explore. She'd done the smart thing. She had to know, somewhere inside, that he would have waved away her concerns and convinced her to stay longer than necessary.

"I understand," he said softly. "I've been busy, but I should've been more organized. I'm sorry to have left you feeling this way."

She blushed darkly, shaking her head. "That's okay. You're right, I should've said something. It's just that, well, I knew you were busy, and I think Mysidia is far more important…"

The rain tapped its impatient fingers on the windowpane.

"And, well, I knew that, after all this time, you still didn't think I was ready to finish my training," she said. "Because I'm a little sensitive. I understand, it's troubling, but I can defend myself. You have seen me in times of crisis, and-"

"You burst into tears for petrifying a flower." He raised an eyebrow, only to watch her cringe and sink into herself. "I see now that it may have been a little trippy for you, flower child, but even when we were in Lodestone…"

"I was able to conduct myself," Leonora insisted firmly. She still looked a mess, her hands in her lap restless, her face as red as a tomato-but there was a fire in her eyes, blue as cosmic dust, and the silver melted away from his tongue. A cold kind of fire it was, like the ice that powered comets. He wasn't sure how he should respond. He'd never seen that look in her eyes before, so sure of itself, in spite of her obvious embarrassment (of being herself, which was normal). Her lips pursed, as if considering what next they would utter. Then, softly: "I don't think being expressive and being resilient are mutually exclusive."

Come to think of it, he had seen that look in her eyes once before. That day in the cavern, as he planned to turn himself to stone for her sake, they whispered an exchange of doubts. He remembered the fire, but it was clouded by a smoky fear, and he took this as her infirmity. She was his student, after all; so he had given her a chance to run away, dismissed her from any duty she had to the Crystal. The Maenad would have no reason to pursue her.

But she had returned. She could have been killed, and she knew all along, and she was afraid for it-but she had returned to him. Hers was the Esuna that healed him instantly, in the moment, where Tellah's had failed years before that. She had faced her fears and she had casted a spell of compassion. Maybe it wasn't so wrong to be a little expressive if she could handle the pressure. (Maybe it was a sign of strength-the touchy-feely kind. For sentimental sops.)

Well. Feelings could save lives, he supposed. She had returned because she felt something, and he had not been smashed into dust because of it. Still! Fires aren't cold, and she had never been as firm as this before, despite those rosy, rosy cheeks. She had never been so certain about anything when they were little, either. He wondered if it really was her, flickering behind those eyes, or if it was someone else entirely. He didn't quite know if he liked that someone else. But, anyway.

"Alright." He squeezed her hand and nodded. "Congratulations. You're on your own from here on out."

Her lashes fluttered. Sitting in silence, she merely squeezed his hand back. Then: "But, uhm." An upward glance. "Well. Now we can be friends. Officially, I mean."

"Officially?"

"Er, because… we aren't mentor and apprentice anymore. Yes?"

"Yes." He had never agreed more quickly in his life, or more firmly.

Questioningly, timidly, she rested her head on his shoulder. Unthinking, he put his arm around hers. He savored her voice like a song, soaking in its sweet lilt. "Now we're just Palom and Leah. Childhood friends. Like we were before."

The proper response to this should have been a verbal affirmation. Somehow, his lips had failed him, reassessing the validity of this. He took her face, looking for the woman he knew before Troia had stolen her away. The girl who chased crickets and baked bunny-eared cookies with him. Her eyes were still crystal blue. Her hair was still wispy like clouds. Her nose had grown, though, a little longer than before. Her lips, too, were softer. Supple. Then, the want crept back to tremble on his lips and burn like Fire in his heart. He wanted to lean forward and touch foreheads again. Like when they were little. He wanted to show her he remembered. He wanted to press their lips together, as if this would pour his feelings into the vessel of her heart. Make her feel all the want, all the memories thundering in his pulse.

But what would happen after that? She would know his feelings, and she would be able to touch them again. Like when they were kids. Like when she disappeared for eight years, out of the blue. And he wasn't about to be played the fool again.

He kissed her forehead and withdrew. "So… are you gonna travel, Leah?"

"W… Wha?" If she glowed any redder, she'd put Baron's reddest apples to shame. Palom suppressed a snort, grinning to himself instead. Leonora rubbed her cheek with her right hand, as if this would rub out the color in them.

"Tellah traveled. As a sage." Don't smile too much. Keep it cool, punk. "He did lots of amazing things along the way."

"Yes, well…" Leonora cleared her throat. "I was thinking I ought to start traveling, yes. But maybe not right away. I need time to think about what I want to do next, exactly. I've… had a lot on my mind, you know?"

"Like talking to flowers?"

She was at a loss. Thoughts swirled in her eyes, but out of his reach.

"I didn't hear what you said, Leah," he found himself saying. "I came too late."

It was unusual. Her face didn't give her away. (Much.) It went stiff and her eyes went cold. She looked distant, as if discerning the truth behind his words. He hoped she would just accept it. She should have been relieved! Instead, she looked to the feet on the table in a daze, smiling faintly, and said, "It wasn't important, anyway."

He figured she needed time to let it sink in. Maybe she worried that he thought she was a mess, talking to a flower, but he decided bringing it up again would only upset her. He worried that Old Leah could see through his bluff and was on the verge of calling it out, but there was no point in fanning those flames, either. They sat like that for a while until he let out a sigh of resignation.

"Anyway, as I was trying to say earlier, you ought to talk to Porom," he said. "She was considering you to train your replacement."

She clung to his arm and shifted a little, getting comfortable. Her hair brushed his neck. He smiled up at the ceiling, feeling his heart melt. That was just like the old Leah. She could shake things off and just Carry On. Life was too short to waste in awkward silences.

"I'll talk to her, but I won't be going," said Leonora. "I don't think returning to Troia will be right for me. I assume Porom is too busy to go?"

"Probably. She didn't really say."

And Leonora didn't really add to that. He couldn't tell if she needed another silence or if she simply had nothing more to say. She shifted again, but she didn't say anything.

"You, uh… You aren't uncomfortable, are you?" she asked.

"No. I don't mind this." It was kinda nice, actually. He almost wanted to hold her hand, but he couldn't be too forward. They were just having dinner, anyway. As friends. (And friends cuddled, didn't they?)

There was a lilt in her voice. "Okay, cool."

As the quiet descended on them for what seemed like the umpteenth time, he decided that he wasn't quite so hungry anymore. He was preoccupied with other pressing questions, like… if little boys and girls cuddled, could men and women, given that they were friends? He glanced down at her. The folds in her gown had loosened a bit, eliciting from him a pair of red cheeks and a suppressed gasp. He could see the cleavage between her breasts, and the curve of the marvelous mound on her left. His fingertips itched, figuring it must be soft. It was larger than he remembered. At least, he thought it was. Butterfly wings flexed along the walls of his heart.

Suddenly, she looked up. Eyes met eyes. Her pupils shivered and her lips quivered. The want warmed his throat. As if she knew his thoughts, she leaned forward. If her eyes were the sheets of a frozen lake, sunlight skipped over them, illuminating each crevice, imparting on it the motion of colors and the vigor of the Elements. Then, a sweet giggle pierced the air and popped the bubble of his dream. Palom blinked. Leonora bounced to her feet.

"Let's eat some chili, silly! The stars are out, so we can trace some constellations while sitting in the garden! Or, if we don't remember any, we can just make up some more! What do you think?"