Time: -8 years pre-canon

Age: 20 years old

It was a whole year before they saw each other again.

Following the Masquerade, the rest of the year passed quicker than Daya thought possible-perhaps quicker than they would have liked. During the day they served customers at the shop; an endless routine of describing the properties of newt flesh and meadowsweet, selling pep-up potions and reading tea leaves. At night they studied the Liber Yvonis and practiced spells by candlelight.

The days blurred into weeks, then months. And the months rolled by.

They half-hoped to see him in passing, perhaps set up in one of the markets or in the town square. They'd even looked for him once or twice (as embarrassing as that was to admit)...but between tending the shop and learning magic, there hadn't been the time to search properly. Then on the first night of next year's Masquerade, they went out onto the balcony to watch the fireworks-and there, nestled against a stack of empty crates, was the little booth draped in purple and blue cloths.

Daya leaned over the railing eagerly, almost tipping over in their haste, but there was no light emanating from beneath the drawn cloths. Perhaps he had left for the night...it was well past sunset after all, only a few more hours to midnight. Then the flap opened, twitched aside by a slender brown hand. A head of white hair appeared, gleaming in the moonlight.

"Hey!"

Asra jumped and glanced around, then upwards.

"Remember me?" Daya called. They leaned over further, so the moonlight caught their features. Recognition flashed in his eyes.

"Dayana?"

"Daya, please."

"Daya, of course. Wow, it's been a while…"

"It's been an entire year, give or take." They leaned their chin on their hand and gazed down. "Here to sell your tricks, fortune-teller?"

"Something like that," Asra said. He looked pleased to see them, something that made them smile without really knowing why. "Why don't you come down?"

"As you wish," Daya said, and swung their legs over the railing. Asra's expression changed from pleased to alarmed.

"Careful-"

They vaulted off the balcony, and his cry of alarm echoed up and down the street-but instead of falling they floated, drifting on a rush of magic that blew their voluminous skirts in disarray.

Daya landed lightly on the street and promptly burst out laughing at the stunned look on Asra's face. He began to laugh too, and their combined giggles chased the passing Masquerade revelers up and down the street.

"You've learned a few tricks," Asra said, when they could both breathe again.

Daya nodded, beaming from ear to ear. "The study paid off, as you said. My aunt has me doing some spreads for her customers now, and I'm working on palmistry at the moment. I'm gaining a very particular set of skills."

"Skills that include leaping off balconies, of course."

They bowed with a dramatic flourish. "Naturally, but I reserve that for special occasions."

Asra's cloak twitched and shuddered, then Faust peeked out from the fabric, her tongue tasting the air.

Daya gasped in delight. "Oh-Faust!"

The snake passed into Asra's hands and stretched out, her body wavering unsteadily.

"You want to hang with Daya, huh?" Asra said, and stepped closer. "Don't be afraid if she squeezes you. It's just her way of showing affection."

The feeling of Faust's cool, sinuous body was oddly comforting. Daya let the snake wind herself around their shoulders, and gave her a little stroke under the chin.

"Who's the best, hm?" they murmured, and they could have sworn the snake looked them right in the eye. "It's you, of course. You're the best girl."

Chuckling, Asra began to untie the drapes that made up his makeshift tent, and Daya moved to help him.

Inside the tent were a few upturned crates covered with thin pieces of fabric, scattered with little trinkets they hadn't seen before. Sticks of incense in tiny jars, little clay figurines and a selection of delicately crafted masks.

"Did you make these?"

Asra straightened, folding a drape, and his gaze followed theirs. "Yes, sort of. My friend carved and shaped them. I painted them."

"They're wonderful," Daya said honestly, and picked up one in the shape of a lion, complete with a mane of gold chiffon. "This is beautiful work. You should be proud."

"Ah, I don't know about that." He shot them an embarrassed smile. "I just put some paint on them, but I'll tell my friend you liked the work."

"Is your friend here too?"

"No, he really doesn't like the crowds, and it's hard for him this time of year. All the extra people make him really nervous." Asra shrugged. "So I come here by myself to sell the things we make."

"Dayana!"

Asra must have remembered the trouble they'd been in the first time they'd met (they remembered too; vividly). His mouth twitched into a mischievous grin.

"Are you in trouble again, Daya?"

"No," they laughed, and took a few steps back-enough to see the dark silhouette of their aunt leaning over the balcony. "I'm here, Aunty!"

"Daya, you left the balcony doors open again!" Tilaya called down. She sounded exasperated, and Daya shot Asra a grin.

"Sorry, Aunty. I'll be inside in a few minutes, I promise."

"Two minutes, and not one second late! Dinner is almost ready."

The doors closed, and their aunt's footsteps faded. Asra grinned.

"What was that about being in trouble?"

"Very funny. Hurry up so we can go inside and eat."

Asra's eyes widened. "Oh, I didn't expect to-"

"I know you didn't," Daya said, and began to fold another drape. "I'm inviting you. Besides, if my aunt knew I had let you go home hungry, she'd be very cross. So really, you'd be doing me a favour."

"Of course," Asra said seriously, but his eyes were dancing. "Well, if I'm doing you a favour, then I suppose we should hurry up."

The downstairs lanterns were still lit when Daya ushered him through the back door and into the little side room. Asra glanced around curiously, taking in the draped table and the worn velvet seats. The furniture took up nearly the entire room, as well as a pair of heavy curtains that separated it from the next room.

Daya propped the tent poles up on the wall and gestured for him to pass over the folded drapes.

"This is where my aunt does her readings," they said. "Your things will be safe here, I promise." They brushed past him, tied back the heavy curtains and waved him into the shop proper. "Come see the shop before we eat."

Asra's eyes went immediately to the glass cabinet, which wasn't unexpected-it was long enough to take up most of the shop front, and glittered all sorts of tantalising colours in the lantern light. He wandered over to it and peered down at the displays.

"Rose quartz," he noted, as Daya stood behind the cabinet. "Citrine, and that looks like...hematite."

He inhaled deeply and they mimicked him, knowing what he would smell-dried herbs, books, tea and a thick, latent energy that permeated the very walls.

"You know," he said. "I think I've been here before, a long time ago."

"Oh?"

"My parents were magicians, too. I seem to remember accompanying them to a place like this." Asra looked away, towards one of the bookshelves on the opposite wall. Daya could almost picture him as a child, staring at the glass displays with wide-eyed curiosity while his parents haggled prices in the background.

He hadn't mentioned his parents at all before, but it wasn't like they knew each other that well. Perhaps he had lost them; that would explain the great loss the cards had spoken of. Then Tilaya's voice floated from upstairs, calling their name, and a rich, savoury smell reached their nostrils. They packed away their curiosity. It was none of their business, after all.

Daya took the stairs two at a time and skidded breathlessly into the kitchen, where their aunt was supervising a large pot on the stove.

"Hi, Aunty. I brought a friend for dinner, just so you know. Hope we have enough-"

Aunt Tilaya turned on the spot, wooden spoon in hand. Dark red curls peeked out from her head scarf, plastered to her temples with sweat from standing so near to the stove. Her amber eyes narrowed in an expression of annoyance-then widened.

"Dayana Firestone. Is that a snake?"

They'd forgotten Faust was still hanging around her shoulders, her tongue tasting the air.

"Um...yes? But she's not my snake. She's-"

A few tentative footsteps and Asra's head appeared in the stairwell. Tilaya recovered quickly, pressing the spoon into Daya's hand and hurrying to greet him.

"And who is this?"

"That's Asra," Daya called from the kitchen as they extinguished the fire. "He's my new friend."

Asra smiled, and extended his hand. "Good evening."

Tilaya pressed his hand between hers and gave him a swift, searching look. Then she smiled, warm and open.

"You look familiar," she said. "Have you been here before? I think I would remember a person with your aura...you're a powerful one, my word. Sit, sit."

"I was just saying to Daya that your shop seems familiar too," Asra replied, and sat in the chair she pulled out for him. "I must have come here with my parents."

"If they were magicians like you, then they must have. Now, I hope you're hungry." Tilaya jerked her head at Daya, who emerged from the kitchen with two steaming bowls. "This child sprung your company on me at the last minute, but we have plenty to share."

Asra shot a grin at Daya over their aunt's shoulder, and they had the grace to look sheepish.

"Aunty makes the best stew, and it has everything in it."

"Flattery will get you nowhere with me, child," Tilaya said, but she was smiling.

Daya set one of the bowls before Asra, then the other before their aunt. "Meat, vegetables, rice, seafood...it's an all-in-one. And it's spicy. Hope you can handle spicy."

In truth, Daya had an ulterior motive for bringing Asra to dinner besides feeding him: their aunt was a talker with a knack for coaxing people to open up. It was part of what made her so sought after as a fortune-teller. People from all over town came to her not just for simple fortunes, but for her counsel as well. If anyone could get Asra to open up a little, it would be her.

"This is the fortune-teller who's been bringing curious customers to our shop for the last two Masquerades, Aunty." Daya gently gathered up Faust and returned her to Asra's cloak, before retrieving their own bowl and sitting next to their aunt.

Tilaya looked at him with renewed interest and paused with her fork halfway to her mouth.

"So," she said, with a satisfied smile. "You're the one who's responsible for my influx of customers. And you tell fortunes! I can see why my Daya likes you."

Daya blushed furiously and gave their aunt a surreptitious glare.
"I'm happy I could help," Asra said seriously, though his expression was amused.

The stew disappeared rapidly between them. Through Tilaya's gentle questioning they learned Asra lived with his friend on the outskirts of town, and that he had lost his family when he was younger. That all but confirmed they had been the great loss spoken of by the cards, and Daya felt a little guilty for bringing such a private thing to light-especially when they had been strangers at the time. They couldn't exactly say so without intruding further, but…

"I lost my parents too."

They could reciprocate, at least.

Asra's eyes widened almost imperceptibly as they spoke into the silence. Daya's fingers twisted around their fork, dropping their gaze. With a click of her tongue Tilaya wrapped an arm about them and pulled them close, pressing her lips to the top of their curly head.

Asra said nothing, but he didn't need to. His look spoke volumes.

"It wasn't so long ago," their aunt said, her voice hushed. Daya kept their gaze down, blinking furiously. "Just under two years now. Though of course, the passing of time doesn't make the loss of any less importance."

"I'm so sorry."

Daya squirmed, but let Asra's sympathy wash over their. Turnabout was fair play, after all.

"Thank you. Losing family is hard." Tilaya released Daya and chucked them under the chin, her eyes affectionate. "Daya came to live with me after it happened. It was a great loss, but...I'm still given a blessing. The opportunity to teach this treasure everything I know-everything their Apa didn't have the time to teach them." She stood and began to gather their bowls and forks, waving Daya away as they moved to help. "Go entertain your guest."

There was a moment's silence, punctuated by the clink of dishes and Tilaya's humming. Then Daya leaned their chin on their hands and smiled brightly at Asra.

"What did you think of the stew?"

"It was delicious." His fingers scritched Faust under the chin. "I...I should leave soon. Muriel...my friend will be expecting me back."

Disappointment must have soured their expression, for Asra smiled at them. "Did you want to practice on me again?"

"I can do actual readings now, thank you very much," they retorted, and stood. "Come on. I'll show you."

The lanterns downstairs brightened with a flick of their fingers as they headed down the stairs. The smell of the stew lingered, blending with the warmth of the energy pulsating off the walls.

"Come into my lair," Daya said, waving him towards the backroom, and he giggled. "Come, come, my hapless querent. Ask the Arcana to read your fortune…."

"Do you put on this act for all of your customers?"

"No," they laughed. "Well, maybe. My aunt says it's as much about an air of mystery as the actual reading. I'm about as mysterious as...well, I don't know. Not very mysterious, I'm afraid."

This time when they touched the deck there was no rush of magic, and the lantern stayed lit-but a faint whisper brushed by their ear, making them jump, and the cards hummed under their fingers.

"They recognise your aura," Asra observed. He watched with interest as they shuffled; he sat next to them rather than across the table, so he could watch their movements.

"The archetype reading." Daya laid out five cards, and his eyebrows rose. "The five aspects of the self. The persona, the shadow, the opposite energies, the heart's desire."

Asra's eyes lidded; a smirk played around his mouth, but he said nothing.

They flipped the first card.

"The Magician."

Asra stilled. His eyelids fluttered, and he leaned forward slightly. "And? What does the card say?"

Daya passed their hand over the card and calmed their breath. In the silence they felt it-a faint whisper against her ear; the answering echo of their own intuition.

"Aside from the obvious? It means you're in control of your own path, your own desires. Didn't I pull this card for you the last time?"

"You did," Asra replied. He stared at the card thoughtfully.

"It meant something different. Today it means you identify most with this archetype. He's part of the self you present to the world, how you like to be perceived."

They opened their eyes and cast him a quick glance, but his expression was neutral. So they turned over the second card.

"Temperance, reversed."

"Whaaat," Asra said, under his breath, and Daya laughed.

"Temperance is my aunt's favourite card," they said. "Reversed, it indicates you react with extreme measures in a crisis. It's...well, it can be interesting to think about, the lengths you might go to protect someone you cared about. What you would do, or wouldn't do."

They tapped the card thoughtfully. Asra caught their eyes again, opened his mouth to speak.

"Don't worry," Daya added, and he fell silent. "You don't have to tell me. Something to think about, at least." Without waiting for a response they flipped the third card. "The Ace of Cups. This is...a good card. It means when you love, you love honestly and deeply."

Asra smirked. "Is that a surprise to you, Daya?"

"No. But you clearly do work on maintaining that air of mystery." Asra gave them a little teasing nudge, and they laughed.

"Don't act like you don't know, fortune-teller," they said, eyebrows raised. "You charmed my aunt, but you can't fool me. I see you."

Asra said nothing, but his smile brightened. Laughing, Daya turned over the fourth card.

"The Queen of Pentacles. Someone solid and grounded. Reliable."

"I'm sure my friend doesn't think so right now."

The last card lay between them. Daya flipped it reluctantly, knowing this meant the end of their evening.

"The-huh. The Lovers."

Asra's eyes widened, and to their surprise a blush began to bloom across his cheeks. "The Lovers?"

"It's not that literal," Daya said hastily. Their cheeks burned with heat, and silently she thanked the darkness of their skin for hiding the worst of it. "It can mean the desire for partnership and connection. It's a good card. It means you want to reach out to other people. Anyway, why am I explaining this? You already know that."

They expected Asra to give some teasing remark in reply, but he was oddly quiet as they stacked the deck and gave it back to him.

"Well? How did I do?"

Asra stared down at the deck in silence. As the seconds crawled by Daya thought perhaps they had offended him in some way. Then he passed his hand over the cards and they vanished.

"You've improved so much, Daya," he said, and looked up at her. "And beyond that...you have a knack for seeing people."

"I see you."

A quick breath drawn in through parted lips-then Tilaya's voice reached them from the stairwell.

"Daya! Asra! Where are you two?"

They emerged from the back room to find Tilaya descending the stairs. In one hand she clutched a battered old broom; in the other a little wrapped ceramic pot.

"There you are," she said. "Good, you haven't left yet. Here, this is for you-" she handed Asra the pot, and Daya the broom. "-and this is for you."

Asra looked startled, but quickly recovered. "Thank you, Aunt."

"How come Asra gets leftovers and I get sweeping duty?" Daya complained.

Tilaya gave them a gentle pinch on the cheek. "Because Asra is my guest, and you are my apprentice. Where are your manners, child? And don't you give me that look. I know you were flexing that sense of humour."

Grinning, Daya took the broom and tucked it in the crook of their arm. Tilaya smiled at Asra.

"Don't be a stranger now," she said. "I'll be wanting to know what your friend thinks of my stew. And I know my Dayana will want you to visit, too."

With a pat to Asra's shoulder, Tilaya turned and went back upstairs. Daya waited for the sound of her swishing skirt to fade, then turned back to Asra with an embarrassed smile.

"Well, there you have it," they said. "You have to visit so my aunt can embarrass me some more. It's her favourite pastime."

"Daya…" Asra paused, biting his lip, as if trying to find the words. Then he pulled them into a quick hug. "Thank you."

"Nonsense." They reached for his hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. "Just promise it won't be an entire year before we see each other again."

"I will." He gave them a small smile, and clutched the pot close to his chest. "I will see you soon. You can hold me to that."