Though Enamorus made Cogita's journeys swift, they did not prevent her from feeling exhausted. The problem was not the journey, she knew. After the liveliness of the village, with its people's curious stares and so many voices battling to be heard, Cogita simply longed for the peaceful solitude of home.
Regardless of how tired she was, she would pause, just before the stream, to admire the place where she lived. It hadn't always been known as 'the Ancient Retreat', of course; its real name had been lost to the sands of time, like so many other things. But it was here. By now, if there were any other Celestica settlements remaining in Hisui, Cogita had lost contact with them. In truth, she doubted that any still existed.
The Ancient Retreat could hardly be described as a 'settlement', having no permanent residents other than Cogita herself. But still, it was here. It existed.
As she always did upon her return, Cogita slowed down to inhale the present moment, with all of its wonders. The light of dusk threw glitter upon the surface of the river, and turned the crops in the field to gold. It reflected off the circular mosaic that decorated Cogita's little garden table, making it shine like a tiny replica of the sun. It cast swaying shadows behind the bunches of herbs hanging from the eaves of the house.
Beneath those shadows, as her gaze descended, Cogita noticed something amiss. There was somebody leaning beside her door, a tall figure with bowed head and folded arms. Someone was waiting for her.
Cogita did not recognise him at first, so accustomed to seeing him in the Ginkgo Guild's bright colours - the same gold and blue that had once adorned the grandest of Celestica temples, before the centuries had faded everything to grey. Everything about Volo, too, was fading to grey. Not just his shapeless cloak, not just his eyes, but even his hair and skin seemed to be tinged with grey, like he was slowly becoming stone.Becoming a ruin.
To see Volo here was no surprise - she wondered why he hadn't come sooner - but although she had faintly rehearsed a hundred versions of this conversation in quiet moments, Cogita found that she did not have the desire for it now. She came to a standstill upon the simple wooden bridge. In the same moment, Volo looked up and noticed her presence.
For a minute or so, neither one moved, even though they had no way of communicating at this distance. Volo could not even see Cogita's face clearly, thanks to the position of the sun and the way she had dipped her formidable hat - intentionally, perhaps. But Volo had the strategic advantage, for he had arrived there first, and he had chosen his position well.
Then we shall have our little war.
Cogita's expression became resolute. Lifting her skirt slightly to save its hem from the dust, she continued her path, crossing the bridge and making her way through the field with its gold-bathed crops. Once they were within earshot of each other, another stalemate might have ensued, but Cogita did not allow the silence to take root.
"I know what happened at the Temple of Sinnoh. I have nothing to say, except what you should already know: I'm appalled by what you did." Cogita did not slow down as she spoke. Her usually graceful pace, which gave the impression that she could glide rather than walk as mere mortals did, had become a determined march. "And to think you invoked our ancestors as your justification - "
Just as Cogita reached the doorway, a grey-sleeved arm blocked her way. It fell fast and heavy, like a tree hit by lightning. The thunder came as Volo's hand struck the opposite side of the doorframe, fingers gripping the gnarled wood so tightly that Cogita was sure she heard a pained creak.
The woman did not flinch, but her silvery gaze landed upon Volo's hand, wondering if he might tear the whole house down. Her stare remained fixed on that same spot, even when she sensed Volo leaning in closer. Despite the space afforded by the wide brim of Cogita's hat - for which she was suddenly very grateful - breath burned across her cheek: a heavy sigh, followed by hissed words.
"Since you already know all about what I did, why don't we talk about what you did, Mistress Cogita?"
Cogita would not retreat, but she tilted her head away from her uninvited guest. Even so, she kept him in her peripheral vision, expecting that she might glimpse what Akari had so vividly described to her.
'His eyes. Like he was frenzied.'
Yes, the girl had used that very word. She must have chosen it on purpose. She would know, after all, what a frenzied creature looked like. And there was certainly an undercurrent of wild might when Volo spoke again. Though he did not shout, a tremor ran through his voice, like the first traces of an earthquake.
"How could you treat me so coldly, while lavishing so much praise upon a child you'd never met? You knew - you were the only one who knew! - what I had longed for, ever since I was a boy. And you gave it to somebody else. Piece by piece, right in front of me! Why…?"
Most of the conversations that Cogita had played out in her head went this way, at some point. She closed her eyes to listen, overcome by a strange sense of misplaced déjà vu. Most things, most people became predictable, if one lived long enough. Even someone like Volo. That was how Cogita knew he was not going to hurt her.
Though they were almost nose-to-nose already, Cogita turned her head and looked at him squarely. As she'd almost expected, Volo straightened up to his full height and pressed himself back against the wall, restoring a little breathing room between them. Perhaps he'd been trying to intimidate her, perhaps that had been his plan…but he wasn't committed enough.
And wasn't that just like him?
Cogita tilted her head again, but this time it was with a softer gaze, one that carried a touch of pity - the kind of pity one may display to a child who has suffered the smallest of slights.
"You speak as though I should have been a servant to your whims, instead of to the duty I was given."
Volo broke eye contact and scoffed. "Duty…"
Yes, duty. The poor cousin of destiny.
Volo had been more than happy to believe in a destiny for himself - nothing could have shaken him from that belief - but what was duty, if not destiny with a heavier burden?
He always wanted one but not the other. Even now, he cannot see it.
"Hmm." Cogita nodded to herself and continued her line of thought, but she only spoke her conclusion out loud. "I think you envied me for having that duty. Just like you envy that poor, lost child now."
"Have you forgotten?" Volo asked, his voice edged with pain. "You called me a 'lost child', too, when we first met."
And so he was. Why dwell on it so heavily…?
It was an accurate description, nothing more. If he wished to overthink it, Volo should have realised that it was something he and Akari shared, though they were 'lost' for very different reasons.
For the briefest of moments, Cogita's brow creased. Then, as she understood, she raised a white-gloved hand to the teardrop-shaped stone that adorned her dress neckline. Volo had once said, when he was still a boy - a poor, lost child - that he owned an identical stone. Cogita had never seen him wearing it. She wondered if it was still in his possession.
I should have told him to take better care of it.
It was too late for that now. Too late, in the context of everything that happened. And too late, for the sun was sinking ever lower behind the hills.
"So, I see…you think I chose her instead of you."
"Well…?" Volo glanced over Cogita's shoulder, to the horizon and the path that led away from the retreat, and to the point where the sun had just disappeared from view. "How can I be sure that you didn't?"
If he really understood duty - or destiny, even - he would know that there is very little choice involved.
Cogita opened her mouth to say just that, but she could not form the words, for she knew that they would fall upon closed ears. Nothing that she said would ever sound fair to him, for duty and destiny were both inherently unfair.
"Volo. You always believed what you wanted to believe. You should leave now, while there's still some light."
After a moment's hesitation, Cogita reached out and gently prised Volo's hand from the doorway. He may not have noticed, but she squeezed his fingers in her own before letting go. His arm was a dead weight; once she released his hand, it dropped to his side.
With her path now clear, Cogita opened the door and crossed the threshold into her home. Volo's shadow seemed to move with her own, and panic fluttered briefly in Cogita's chest as she wondered if he would try to follow. But he did not. In his parting glance, Volo would only see her in a sliver of light as she slowly closed the door. Their eyes would not meet.
Cogita had one more thing to say, and it was for both of their sakes.
"They may come here to search for you. If you still hold any love for this place - or for me - you would let us keep our peace."
When she looked again, he was already gone.