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The first thing Caithe had asked him after the whole Consortium debacle had been whether or not he had finally run onto the arms of the Nightmare. As always, his sister was an idiot. Considering his life for the past years, why in the world would he want more Nightmares?
Canach did not like Gods. He did not follow rulers and he disliked leashes. The Nightmare was a leash by another name, one wreathed in cruelty and despair, cold stony walls and beeping instruments for which he had no name. If he had to describe it, he'd describe the exact place where he stood, watching as Asura ran from place to place in unnamable tasks.
If Anise had not sent him, if she had not promised this would be the last time, Canach would have never crossed the threshold of the laboratory.
(Cold walls, cold halls, the dripping of water inside test tubes, the screaming of his siblings inside the laser gates, the feverish activity of small hands.)
His face set in a customary frown, a shroud without name wrapped around his features, tight and strong. It was his most perfect lie, one that not even the Pale Tree would see beyond. None of these creatures would see him tremble again.
"Her sylvari arrived," one of the little vermin muttered. "Call the Commander."
The warrior was about to ask what in the world and I'm whose now and maybe I can change my non-threatening policy when the laboratory became stage to a series of small detonations. In the midst, the roar of a warhorn heralded fire and storm and he was already shaking his head well before the purple eyed elementalist made her entrance. With explosions, of course, because the world would fall if she managed to visit any place without several minor attacks occurring.
His smile was smothered under the cover of a renewed frown.
"Canach!"
The battle was no surprise, the fact that she ignored the stairs in favor of her glider, wide metal mechanics whispering against the cold air of the laboratory as she stumbled down, was not one either. He saved his surprise to when she touched down, a tired (honest) smile upon her lips, and jumped onto his unexpecting arms.
His eyes lowered to the head right next to his then to his arms, which had enfolded the smaller woman and tightened her to him (without a hint of hesitation?); whole and safe and brimming with the same energy which always preceded her steps. As fast as Synthaer had appeared, she stood back, hands holding his face between her fingers.
"You look worried and possibly bothered. Stop frowning." The Commander's eyes glinted lowly in the bright laboratory; her expression soft and pleasant as if they were meeting for tea instead of prodding his (non-existent) bad mood. "Did you like my gift?"
"It was a little charred, Commander."
Her fingers did not move, her bland smile did not dim.
"Not possible. I didn't send you Rytlock."
Canach almost groaned. "You did, however, just made an incredibly bad joke. You should be ashamed of yourself."
"I most certainly am not."
"So it is bluntly obvious."
Synthaer frowned as she stared up at him, her banter dying on her lips unexpectedly. Her eyes were still bright, he noticed, still lovely but older in some manner he could not explain. The leaves decorating her head were longer now, her clothes a mismatch of their cultural apparel with whatever random pieces Verdant had brought her. She looked grown, adult; she fit in a way he could not explain. She also looked attentive and worried.
It made him wish to pull back from her hold.
"I missed you."
He didn't get this. How the Commander could speak these words so clearly, so honestly, so bluntly. How she could hold him like that, like she cared to begin with if the blight upon her existence came by or not.
"I did not miss the chaos you bring with you." (When all he could do was to keep skirting the truth like it prickled his skin).
Her hands lowered to grip one of his and tugged him without asking for permission.
"Come on, we're leaving."
Canach wasn't sure if he managed to verbalize the what which crossed through his mind but Synthaer didn't seem ready to listen to begin with.
"I don't know why or how or who but something is bothering you so much that your frown looks stuck there. It's bothersome," the elementalist drawled carelessly as she crossed through the halls without hesitation. He barely saw her free hand moving, tasting the air for the way out. It was a neat trick. He focused on the movement of that hand, on the steady feet leading him out like he was a child because her words, those hit far too close to home. "As it is, I am planning on taking you outside and forcing you to get some fresh air. Truth to be told, it's not like we have anything else to do here. Taimi has already told me whatever I needed to know."
And she tugged more strongly. Pale Mother help him, his body kept following.
"You're coming with me, aren't you? I mean, you have your own task but there's no real reason for us to not go together."
Outside. Out in the warm sun. Where the breath in his lungs was sweet and savory, where Metrica seemed almost like Caledon.
"You want me to?" His traitorous mouth spoke slowly.
"Of course."
And where he could feel the remains of the morning fog on every leaf, the shadows cast by people just like him, just like her.
"Then I am by you, Commander."
(How could she know when their own mother would have missed it?)
Synthaer stopped then, her fingers releasing their hold slowly while her impish smile bloomed like a newly born sapling. "You should stop calling me Commander," she said. "Haven't you heard? I just quit."
"As you wish." Canach allowed the pause to extend, long and uninterrupted. "Poobah."
Her glare could have melted the Shiverpeaks.
"How did you hear about that?"
The warrior did not bother to hide his laughter, loud and honest, carrying all the gratitude he could never put into words.
