A Dawning Chance

24th of December, 7999 DC
Doru Araeba, Vroengard

Winter was familiar. Winter meant resource scarcity, bad weather, unreliable transmissions, and poor vision. It was a time to lay low and keep quiet.

It took him a while to remember that Vroengard wasn't Old Russia. He didn't need to worry about food or supplies - there was much to be scavenged in the supposed 'Dragon Rider' city. There weren't Devils to hide from. And he wasn't out on an extended patrol mission with Jaxson and Lennox.

He would have traded all of the peace Kepler offered him for a chance to hear them again. Just once. Just long enough to set things straight.

He didn't think he was going to get his Dawning wish.

"At least we're together," Xiān whispered. They were taking shelter from the rainstorm in an abandoned building. The corner was the only place dry enough to find any measure of comfort.

Ikharos wasn't fool enough to disregard her. "I'll never not cherish that."

"Happy Dawning, you old grinch."

"What's a grinch?"

"No idea."

Ikharos rolled his eyes and smiled. "Happy Dawning, you little monster." He dragged the warm Ghost closer to his core. Her Light thrummed in beat with his heart. "Love you."

Some Dawnings were harder than others. But he was glad to always have someone by his side.

"We should decorate this place."

Even if that someone continuously drove him to his wits' end.

000

"Kvetha."

Formora blinked at the bright lights patterning along the wall and slowly brought her gaze back to the impossibly strange man. "Kvetha..." She greeted weakly, at a loss for words.

Ikharos didn't threaten, didn't shoo her off, didn't do anything she expected of him. Instead of acting like a normal person, he swept his arms out wide and announced, with a wide smile full of veiled emotion, "Happy Dawning."

She wasn't amused. "What is this?"

"Magic," he explained.

As if she hadn't realized. He'd used what words she'd given him and made the most rudimentary of werelights. The how was impossible - he only had a handful of phrases to his name - but the why was somehow more important.

So Formora asked him. The man she killed merely shrugged in response. As if her taking of his life was a mere thing of the past.

She had committed murder, and her victim just... forgot about it.

He was too strange for her.

"It's Dawning. A time of... well, I don't know. Family. Friends. People in general." He looked around. "Though there's precious few of those here."

Her heart knotted. Family.

She swallowed in an attempt to rid herself of the bitter taste in her mouth. It didn't work.

Ikharos pressed something into her hands. "Happy Dawning."

It was a silver coin of startlingly exquisite make, fitted with a blue jewel in the centre.

Formora straightened her spine, nodded her thanks, and marched away. Ikharos didn't call her back. She went straight back to her camp beneath the ruined tower, sat cross-legged on her bedroll, and cursed the man's name.

He was being nice.

She didn't want him to be nice. She killed him. For no good reason.

"Why?" Formora asked aloud. Not in search of any answer. She just wanted to hear it said. To anchor her problems in reality. To convince her that she wasn't being unreasonable.

It didn't help in the slightest.

000

He didn't expect to see Formora until the next day. She usually met him at a set time to trade in knowledge for a few hours, but beyond that she avoided him like the plague.

Which was why he was so surprised to see her gliding out of the dark outside like a wraith, more graceful than all but the most elegant of Awoken, and into his humble hovel. The building he'd chosen for the night hardly offered better cover than the last, but it was warmer and it was where he'd made parts of the walls glow with magic.

Formora marched up to him without hesitation and threw a leather pouch at him. He caught it and frowned. "What's this?"

She cleared her throat. "Seeds."

"For?"

"Strawberries."

"... I can't grow these. Not here."

"I've warded them against the poison. You will find they grow quicker than their normal counterparts, but only if you plant them in the gardens to the west."

Strawberries. She was giving him strawberries. Hardly a fair trade, when he'd handed her a silver coin from the Reef.

"Fair isn't the aim," Xiān told him. "It's the thought that counts."

Ikharos forced himself to see beyond the trade. The value was insignificant, but what it truly offered was priceless.

He hadn't had strawberries in a very long time. He'd take them over his packed rations any day. "Thank you." He dipped his head.

Formora said nothing. He didn't expect her to. She stood her, studying him. Satisfied, she turned and left.

Ikharos didn't try to follow her or make her stay. There were boundaries and limitations in their strained newfound relationship, and he wasn't willing to cross them. He was content to leave it as it was. And let it take whichever route felt natural.

AN: A short interlude-chapter-thingymajig. Big thanks to Nomad Blue!

Merry Christmas all! Even if you don't celebrate it, I wish you well all the same!