"If nothing saves us from death, at least love should save us from life."
~Pablo Neruda
In the quietude of the dispensary, Ava applied herself to sorting and shelving the smaller packets of dried herbs and salts that invariably became misplaced in her daily riffling through materials. It was a tedious task that nevertheless made her days more efficient. It also kept her from bursting out in impatient rants as she blindly felt up the shelves with her fingers for things that weren't where they were supposed to be. The silence and loneliness weighed on her; the day off had been imposed. Mullins had been adamant about it. Outside she heard the dragging rasp of shovels scraping the cobblestones as workers dug out the latest delivery of snow, courtesy of the previous day's storm. The fortress' activity had resumed at an even more urgent pace as people scrambled to make up for lost time. All day she heard horses' hooves clomping outside along with shouted directions. No one would come that day, except in the case of emergency. Her feverish activity over the past days had resulted in fully stocking the infirmary with the most frequently needed remedies.
"You are wearing yourself ragged," Mullins had said with her customary bluntness. "Do you want to make yourself sick? If you do, you will be of little aid to us," she tried to reason with Ava in a way she knew she would listen to.
Loneliness is when you can't be good company even to yourself, she reckoned, tossing empty packets onto the floor, which she would painstakingly sweep once she was done.
She had tried studying, but her mind would not sit still with her. It asked too many questions, and wandered beyond comfortable boundaries— hardly a considerate friend. At one point she had suggested to herself going to the library, but had not wanted to explain her evident haggardness to the ever watchful duo of Hester and Tameryn.
"It spins, going round and a-round, mill wheel, grinding under a rush of flowing thoughts…"
She reeled around in delight to find Cole standing by the fireplace.
"You've returned!" she exclaimed, rushing from behind the counter. The sight of him filled her with relief.
"To myself, as well," he uttered.
She smiled and clasped his hands in hers.
"Did it go well?" she had no idea where he had gone, but knew he had expressed apprehension over his trip.
"It went as it should," he explained.
"I am so glad you are here!" she squeezed his hands. He smiled back.
Perhaps only those who see, rather than look, remember.
"Will you be coming with me to the infirmary again?" she wondered eagerly. "I've missed telling people I have an apprentice!" she told him gamely.
"Yes," he told her. He wanted to let her know, though that no one would remember him afterwards—that had changed and he wondered whether she wouldn't begin to find him fading in her mind as well.
It would be alright, he told himself, feeling the warmth of her hands over his, the radiant smile despite the sad eyes. She may go; I'll still remain.
"It's a strange and wondrous thing, isn't it?" Cole asked her.
"What is?" she asked, amused at her friend's puzzling meanderings.
"This!" he exclaimed, raising both their hands up to her eye level.
Unconditional. She can take it all and does not need to return it.
He glanced at the door and smiled.
"There is one thing you must do, though," he told her in a conspiratorial tone.
"What is it?" She huddled in to listen.
A sharp knock, a familiar knock, resounded against the heavy door. Her head turned to stare, mystified by the unexpected sound.
"Open the door," he whispered, releasing her hand, his fingers gently slipping away from hers, as he stepped back into the room's shadows.
Adan glanced about him agitatedly, the thick leather tome resting against his chest. His entrails were bound in a knot. He did not know how she would greet him.
Perhaps she isn't here, he told himself, with a mix of dread and relief. Still, he poised his fist over the door and rapped firmly. One last time, he told himself.
At that, the door flew open, and before he could catch his breath, his apprentice's angry face greeted him. She stood before him, complete with arms akimbo.
"I can only imagine what you would have done to me if I had not reported for twelve days!" she said crossly.
He swallowed nervously as she stepped aside, ushering him into the dispensary.
"I have been very busy," he attempted to justify. "There were many things to resolve before…And, also, the invitation to go…It was sudden and I had to decide quickly…" he fumbled through excuses.
He entered the dispensary as she shut the door behind them.
All in order, he took in the tidy room with a melancholy grin.
"When do you leave?" she asked sullenly, reaching for the kettle.
"In an hour or less," he told her. She raised her head, her expression betraying her surprise. "As soon as they are able to clear the bulk of the snow over the bridge so the carts and horses can cross."
"Well, I am glad to see you didn't completely forget your apprentice. Even if I am an afterthought, wedged into your busy schedule at the last possible minute!" she scolded him.
He could feel the blood begin to rise to his face.
"You were not an afterthought," he managed to tell her. He placed the book down on the counter and reached into his satchel for two neatly rolled up scrolls. "Here." He thrust them into her hands. "These are letters recommending you for an apprenticeship. They bear my seal," he pointed, "which essentially guarantees you will have your choice of apprenticeship anywhere you choose."
She unfurled one of them and glossed over the erudite, scholarly handwriting she knew so well.
"And I would also like it if you took this," he added, seizing the tome off the counter. She stared back at him, bewildered, unable to react, both hands clutching a scroll. He grimaced impatiently and plucked the scrolls out her hands, offering her the book instead.
She dazedly opened it at a random page. At first she browsed past the usual dry academic explanations her eyes had glazed over so often, but then she noticed the margins danced with words, drawings, diagrams and numbers. She leafed through the book and realized these were his notes, his impressions, formulas, and realizations. She gasped.
"For me? But…Won't you—"
"I know it by heart at this point," he said, his eyes lingering over her face tenderly. "I will never forget."
He cleared his throat. "It will be put to better use if you study from it, provided you don't set it on fire or spill tea over it," he teased.
He expected one of her saucy retorts, and with that, to be released and turned on his way. Instead, she closed the book gingerly and brushed her fingers over the cover. She raised it to her nose and inhaled. He puzzled.
"What are you doing?"
"It smells like you," she grinned, shutting her eyes against the tears. "I am going to miss you, Adan," she confessed.
He felt himself falter from the unexpectedness of her words, from the tone of her voice.
"I will…I am going to…miss you. Very much, too," he admitted, grasping for any semblance of his cool, professional demeanor. "You are…were…an excellent apprentice."
"No, I am not," she revealed, her voice tremulous, as she shook her head. He sought her eyes, finding in them a pained expression that mirrored his. He did not want to turn his back on her like that, seeing her so upset.
"Why would you ever—"
"No, you see…"She raised her hand to dab at her eyes. "Excellent apprentices don't fall in love with their masters," she told him. "I would have been happy staying just the way it was before, but now you are leaving and I'll never see you again…"
The silence was marred only by her slight sniffing.
"Don't say that," he finally said.
"I am sorry," she told him. "It's selfish of me and you came by to give me all these lovely—"
"No—don't say you will never see me again," he murmured gently.
Before she was able to respond, he reached for her and gathered her in his arms, pressing her tightly against him, burying his face in her hair.
"Adan?" she asked in astonishment.
"How did I not know?" he censured himself. "Ava, I never saw it, I never suspected it. I didn't dare," he told her contritely, gazing into her eyes. "I never believed it could be possible that you would ever reciprocate what I have felt for you for so long," he smiled.
She returned the smile. It was all bittersweet, she thought. Outside a deep, mournful horn sounded loudly. They both recognized it as the rallying call for the departure of Inquisition forces. They had heard it almost daily, but never before had it held any meaning for either of them.
"It is almost time," he told her, glancing at the door, his heart at once heavy and light. She flung her arms around his neck.
"Listen well: you have to come back to me," she pleaded. "Stay with the soldiers, don't wander off on your own, I don't care how alluring the flora seems, don't test any new elixirs on yourself, even if you're certain that they'll work, and above all else: do not get eaten by any dragons!" she ordered him, anxiously.
He held her tightly, committing her scent, her warmth, her shape to his memory.
"Wait for me," he asked her. "I will return—I promise," he assured her.
"If you don't, I'll hunt you down. I'll bang down the gates to the Black City itself, you know, because that's where you will be sent to if you don't make good on that promise," she warned him, both of them lightly laughing through tears. The horn resounded once more over the rooftops of the fortress, reverberating ominously.
"I have to go," he told her, caressing her face. He leaned in and kissed her lips almost timidly. She chuckled, brushing her hands over his bearded cheeks. He furrowed his brow, mystified.
"What is it?"
"It tickles—just like I imagined it would," she whispered, returning his kiss, more ardently.