Hey-o. Two months...not AS bad. xD At least it's got the same year stamp on it this time!

Raine: ...Why do you do this? Just answer me that one question.

...Do what? Why do I take forever to update? Why do I always write at night? Why do I...put these random conversations at the start and end of every chapter? Why do I pirate this beautiful game and obsess over it endlessly?

Raine: It's so difficult to choose just -one-.

Well, I could give you a simple answer...

Raine: I'm going to regret asking, I know it... Alright. Why?

Because I'm JUST. THAT. AWESOME. n.n New chapter time.

These people…were nothing like he could have predicted. The childlike wonder and curiosity every one of them expressed, the genuine sense of welcome he, perhaps optimistically, couldn't help feeling, were not aspects he was accustomed to finding in elvish settlements. …Then again, he had only ever encountered one elvish settlement before this one. He had never imagined there to be another one in the world. Yet here they were, bright-eyed and nothing but hospitable.

He assumed—they did not speak what he had always taken for granted as the universal language. How ignorant he felt. How very small, insignificant, and…lost.

Regal stood along a stretch of sand that marked part of the island's one expansive, continuous beach. The sanctuary upon which the sea had generously determined to deposit them was a sizable mass of land—but it was still isolated and skirted on all sides by ocean as far as the best eye could discern. There was no telling where they were, or how from any familiar territory; one of his first tasks succeeding his return to consciousness, indeed, had been to search the sky for familiar stars that evening. Unfortunately, while the night had been beautifully clear and crisp, no recognizable shapes had he picked out.

One might, then, propose to ask why he was standing at the water's edge now as the sun submitted to a twilight glow, his eyes cast up and out. In truth, he might not even have a good answer. Perhaps he simply needed something to do. He couldn't exactly retreat into his room with a good book. At least he could find some sort of peace in the quiet lapping of the waves and the humming of some insect native to this island. It was a beautiful place. ...Though it was darkened by the not-insignificant reality that they were trapped.

The man cast a glance over his shoulder toward the gentle, homey glow of the village he could see in the near distance. When he had come to, finding himself in the care of this strange people, he had been rather disoriented and not altogether at ease. The first question from his lips had been about Raine—was she there, was she alright, where was she? And it had taken some…creativity on the parts of both parties, but he had finally been satisfied that she was there, and that she was being well cared for. They both were, to be honest; though he was still concerned. For a multitude of reasons.

He linked his hands loosely behind his back in an old, thoughtful habit, and returned his gaze to the dusky, almost magenta horizon. As far as he had been able to tell, the closest the natives had to seafaring technology was a small complement of fishing crafts—glorified rowboats, really. There was little storage capacity, and they were not built to withstand open sea. On the contrary; they seemed to frequent the shallows directly off the coast of their paradise, but never venture into the reach of any notable ocean current. For all the curiosity and openness the elves of this lost isle exuded, they did not appear to be a current culture of exploration. That presented a very obvious predicament to himself and his…travelling companion.

Though it did also beg a few questions that had more to do with his curiosity than the issues at hand. Where had this settlement come from? There were striking similarities between the architecture and style of this village and its sister on the mainland, Heimdall; but at the same time, there were marked differences. For one thing, there was no demand that they, as foreigners, make themselves scarce. They seemed so genuinely interested in, even excited by this new presence. The fact that they were looking after Raine at all was enough to separate the two villages by miles. Who were these elves?

…Not that they were likely to have any shortage of time to find out, a nagging voice reminded him. Regal closed his eyes and neatly sequestered that particular reality away for the time being. There was no use worrying over that right now. He would talk it over with Raine…when she had recovered. He cast another quick glance over his shoulder, but this time his attention lingered. A figure was coming out toward him, half-silhouetted in the rapidly dimming light.

He turned to face the approaching woman—for woman it was. That much he could quite easily tell now, by the pretty dress whose hem fluttered about her probably bare feet in the evening breeze, and the outline of her figure was not exactly diminished by the cloth. With any luck, it was one of the elves coming to tell him Raine was awake. Or…three—the first figure appeared to be flanked by two others, slightly smaller but also female. The women here travelled in packs, it seemed. One corner of his mouth twitched involuntarily at the observation.

Still some distance off, the trio paused. Their apparent leader turned to the others, and he watched in a dumb intrigue that made him feel like a first-time tourist in Altamira as they shared some short discourse before the other two began to shuffle back toward the village, hand-in-hand and throwing frequent glances over their shoulders. Only when they had finally broken into a jovial trot did the young lady they had left behind turn toward him and proceed once more in her original path. All the while, he had stood there quite oblivious to just who was now approaching him.

In retrospect, he might have utilized some intellectual power to guess; it didn't occur to him to see as familiar the way she habitually turned her right palm inward and clasped it near her body with the other hand. But in his defense, he had never expected such a sight to present itself.

Regal blinked as she stepped from the shadowy boundaries of his little spot and into his visual range. It was even a moment longer, after he had seen her face, until he fully recognized its features. The slight and delicate form doing beautiful justice to the folds of this light, summery dress was not one of the picturesque elves offering open hospitality, but Raine. Despite himself, he could feel the surprise taking shape in his own face.

The breeze played with her hair as it did her skirt, as though begging her to join in the whimsicality that seemed to pervade the rest of island. Her sleeves were long, but they were loose and lightweight, sitting just off each shoulder. He could tell by the way she held her posture—tense along the right side—that the implications of this were not lost on her. Indeed, with the cut of the neckline, he was at last privy to the culmination of a scar to which he had only been offered hints before. But despite that, even while his own nature could not keep his gut from tightening in renewed anger and pity at the brand, most of his attention was quite firmly held elsewhere.

Raine Sage stood before him, a young woman whose light complexion had turned almost porcelain against the fading dusk and the light color of her clothing. There was just enough of the hazy sunset to add a glint of life to her eyes, when they weren't partially obscured by teasing strands of straight, neatly brushed hair. Not shrouded in her usual no-nonsense attire, not hiding her face behind a book—or a scowl—not hiding the telltale shape of her ears, or delivering a lecture or reprimand…

She was actually a very beautiful woman—even more so than Zelos' endless, empty words could serve much credit. More so than he himself had ever bothered to notice. It was startling. Luckily for her, the tide rose a bit further and wet the sand beneath his feet, causing a subtle shift. Subtle, but enough to break him from his embarrassing awe.

"Raine," he greeted, stepping carefully away from the mischievous waterline to approach her instead. His own clothes came from the generosity of the native people, and he was rather reluctant to soil them with sand and seawater. He reached out a hand automatically, hovering it just an inch or so from her arm as the dreamlike reverie to which he had momentarily succumbed dissipated. Instead, the reality of their experience, and the practicality and concern of his natural being settled into place. "Are you alright?" Their last interaction, after all, had been…harrowing.

Raine shook her head dismissively. Had he continued in his close observation and scrutiny, he might have supposed a faint, flustered tint to be playing across her cheeks. As it was, such fine details were lost to the evening. "I'm fine," she replied, tersely. She had reacted to his near-touch by a slight, reflexive recoil of her left shoulder as well, and he lowered his hand a bit for her sake. Up close, he could make out several lines of tension in her body, and not only because of the scar revealed with such seeming carelessness by those responsible for her dress. For surely Professor Sage had not of her own volition opted for such attire. "Where are we?"

He took a glance around, finally dropping his hand back to his side. "I wish I knew," he replied in reluctant sincerity. "It's an island I know nothing about. I don't recall any mention of such a place as this ever reaching Tethe'alla." Regal chanced a fleeting look her way. "The only elves of whom I was aware lived in Heimdall." She had been raised in the secluded village… Of the two of them, she would have been more likely to know anything about another settlement. "…Did you ever hear anything about—"

"No."

He was stopped right in the middle of forming a word. Taken aback, he blinked at her and allowed his mouth to close. An awkward beat of silence took him as he scrambled back to his feet mentally, but he consoled himself with the concession that she had only just awoken in this strange place, after a very traumatic experience, while he had had some time to allow the information to settle and sink in. "I didn't expect you to," he admitted, turning a little to face the sea again.

"How long?"

He cast his eyes back toward her, taking a few seconds to register the meaning of her clipped inquiry. "Have we been here?" he guessed. When she didn't look at him or make any verbal reply, he carefully pressed on, leveling his gaze at the now-dark horizon almost apologetically. "I'm not certain. It has been a day or two since I revived; before that, I couldn't say. As I'm sure you have, by now, discovered, these people do not share our language." …Or rather, perhaps he should say his language? He had seen her speak to them…

"I am aware, yes."

"…Do you speak Elvish, Raine?" It was asked in a neutral, very level tone, though he was quietly hopeful.

From the corner of his eye, he thought he saw her stiffen for an instant as though bristling at the very words. But instead of a scathing reply, she offered a simple, "I know enough."

He couldn't lie: her answer was something of a relief to him—for all that it seemed a bitter taste in her mouth. "Good—I'm glad," he corrected smoothly. Perhaps not much better, but the best he could do. "Thus far, communication has proven problematic. Have you spoken much with them?"

"No."

Regal shook his head slightly. A fine time she had picked to resort to monosyllabic responses. Poor woman. But as he drew a breath to speak again, he was again cut off by her own voice.

"…We need to figure out where we are, and how exactly we are going to get home."

When he shifted to look at her again, her stony gaze was still very pointedly directed out over the ocean (from which she was certainly keeping fair distance). He couldn't help but be a little surprised by such a statement—not because she wanted to leave, for that was a natural reaction by anyone marooned—but because he was sure she knew very well that, if there was a way to leave, it would be by sea. His brow had risen in display of his sentiment before he could stop it. Luckily, she wasn't looking at him.

"…Agreed." He did not at that moment mention his misgivings about there even being a viable way to leave. She already appeared touchy, and to make such a suggestion at such an…inopportune moment would do neither of them much good. Instead, he allowed silence to cool the tension for a moment, before he ventured to speak again. "As far as I can tell, we are the only ones here." Meaning, of course, that the rest of those aboard the ship had either escaped their fate and weathered the storm—or, in a much less optimistic assumption, they had all simply been lost at sea. Personally, he chose the former. "That we even had the fortune to find such safety is a miracle," he added, perhaps as a cautious broaching of his earlier concerns.

She finally looked at him, her expression cast mostly in shadow and therefore even more unreadable than usual. "Miracle," she repeated, less than enthusiastic. "So the disaster of nature which necessitated this 'safety' is simple happenstance, but an equally chance occurrence is regarded as a 'miracle.' I never took you for a man of providential outlook."

Far from the quasi-goddess figure she had seemed upon his first glimpse of her, she now appeared a shadow in and of herself. He was not entirely surprised, and not in the least offended. Rather, he felt sympathy for her. Her last memories had been terrifying, traumatic. She hadn't had anything to eat or drink, to his knowledge, in at least two days—very likely more, considering his own extended incapacitation and the fact that he had seen her take nothing during the voyage—and the situation to which she had awoken was scarcely a comforting one. He could hardly take her frayed nerves personally.

"Just a figure of speech," he assured her. Admittedly, he wasn't entirely certain how to deal with her. Friend as she was, and knack for insight to her character as he seemed to possess, she was still something of a puzzle.

Raine paused, then looked away again. The glower he hadn't been able to see now registered in the absence he felt of the heat in her gaze. "…I'm sorry," she offered after a pause. It wasn't a warm statement, but it did not hold the same bite to it. However, she characteristically forced a change of subject and faced him head-on. The rising moonlight passed fleetingly over her face, and he could detect the tension still there. Yet he dismissed this, too, as a product of their experiences. "Have you learned anything about this place?"

Regal shook his head again—though, remembering that motions were somewhat obscured by the darkness, he added a verbal, "No, not much. As I said, communication with these people has proved a challenge for me. I have never encountered such a language barrier before."

"No. You wouldn't have. The only variation of language which survives in the world is the distinction between what is commonly and mistakenly referred to as the 'human' tongue, and elvish. And since the elves are well known to keep to themselves and share nothing, you could hardly be expected to run into their language."

"That is true," he agreed evenly. "…Nevertheless," he began with a little caution, "I'm glad to have you here to translate." Half of a smile, really formed for the purpose of trying to lift his own spirits, settled on his lips. "I have a feeling they'll feel the same way. There are only so many things which can be said with gestures and quizzical facial expressions."

The only response he could make out with any clarity was a soft, humorless sniff, and his attempted smile faded again. Raine was intelligent—brilliant. Undoubtedly, she herself did not miss the reality of the hand they'd been dealt. Piled atop everything else… Well. One thing, at least, he could do. He had not been able to spare her from her assailant in Altamira, nor had he truly ensured her safety by escorting her across the sea himself—quite the opposite, a dry voice observed in the back of his mind—but they were here now, and they were, at the very least, together. He was extremely grateful to have a familiar presence, and would have been even had it not been for her bilingual heritage; certainly, he was capable of serving the same purpose for her. Too often, it seemed to him, Professor Sage found herself in isolation. It was something they appeared to have in common. On some level or another, however, they would need each other if they were to stand the best chances of coming through this mess unscathed.

Ah, but first things first. Carefully, taking into account the limited visibility, he reached out with his right hand (he had no desire to further her discomfort by reminding her of the scar, about which he was still curious but which he hardly thought to be a topic for the present moment) and found the cloth of her sleeve with his fingertips. Under his touch she gave a start, but he held her only very loosely, cradling her elbow more than anything else. "We should return to the village. I would assume you have not eaten—Raine, I can hear your stomach growling—and we both need rest."

"I would prefer to stay out here."

Again, he found himself thrown a little off-balance, but he recovered himself more quickly and gave his head another gentle shake. "The inhabitants of this island have been nothing but hospitable; I don't think we have anything to worry about. And if we are to learn more about this place and what it is we're up against, I think we should take advantage of their generosity—"

"There is very little we can do this evening on that particular front," she stated. "I would like to remain in the quiet and outside this culture we know nothing about until we have a better feel for what is going on. The only experience either one of us has with elves is Heimdall's example. We know nothing about this island or its natives, and while there has been no incident yet, I am not going to place myself into their hands without a very good basis for such unconditional trust. Whether they intend us ill or not, we simply do not know enough. I've no intention of going through this blind. For tonight, I want to keep my distance."

He was tempted to remind her that he had spent a coherent night in the village, while she had been under their diligent care; that the elves were probably the reason they had made it past being half-drowned rats washed up on some forgotten beach in the middle of the ocean. Again, his common sense—and his own sense of decency—stopped him. While it bothered him, because he felt absolutely certain that she knew the irrationality of her argument and was simply being somewhat inexplicably stubborn, he was not going to push her this time. Not about that. There were enough other battles to fight, and this one, at this moment, with this woman, was not one he cared to try out.

"…Alright," he finally relented. "But you will forgive me if I remain with you. Besides the fact that I myself am utterly lost in discussion among them, I am not particularly inclined to desert you here on the coast of an uncharted island overnight." Did he really expect her to fight his presence? No, not particularly; but experience had made him cautious at times, and it was always better to specify needlessly than to neglect saying something that should be articulated.

In the end, she did not argue. Actually, she said very little after that, and from what he could tell she remained standing where she was, looking out over the ocean from behind the mask she wore so skillfully. He wanted to know what was running through her mind, but he did not press. He wanted, as he heard the rustle of cloth and made out the shape of her hand now resting on her shoulder to cover the scar which almost shone in the darkness, to say something—but what? All he could feasibly do was lower himself to the sand still warm from a full day's sunning and lean back on his palms, giving her space and allowing his own mind to begin working away, now that he no longer had to worry about her health.

Though somewhere in the back of his head, even if he did not realize it, he was curious. And he did worry.

D'aww, Regal. You sweetie. Poor, unwitting sweetipie.

Raine: One would think he would be a little more...savvy by now.

Oh Raine. Everyone knows there's zero continuity between the thousands of fics out there!

Raine: Clearly. Your portfolio alone is enough to prove that; HOW many times now, dear Maiya, have we "fallen in love," faced contradictory dangers, and DIED at the tips of your typing fingers?

I lost count. I can check...

Raine: ...Not the point.