Drawn Together

Mia couldn't sleep.

That in of itself wasn't unusual. Over her seventeen years, many had been the night where sleep would not come to her. Whether it be from grief over those she could not save during the day, or the steady culling of her clan by death and disease, or Alex's absence and the perpetuity of her isolation, she had lain in her bed under many a full moon, and wished its brightness would spare her eyes.

All of that, however, had been within the confines of Imil itself. Now, twenty miles south of her home town, lying in bearskin furs under a tent of thin leather, Mia lay on the snow-covered ground. Away from home for the first time in her life. A life that, based on what she'd seen atop Mercury Lighthouse, could end in any number of violent ways. She'd treated wounds in the same ways as disease, but never had she thought she'd be anywhere near such danger. The wastes around Imil were harsh, its creatures preying on whatever meat they could find, but Imil itself had been relatively well protected from the hazards of the North.

And thus, she couldn't sleep.

Also, Garet's snoring was like a saw moving through a tree that could scream, and no matter how much bearskin she put over her ears, she couldn't drown it out.

How long she lay there, she could not tell. It was summer, so the days were long and the nights were short, yet the moon gave no indication of the passing of time. Perhaps the sun would crest the eastern horizon in mere moments. Perhaps she'd stumbled into perpetual night. Or perhaps…

Gritting her teeth, she got to her feet and walked out of the tent. Perhaps the quest for sleep was a lost cause. The crackling fire between the two tents the party shared was fading, yet it still provided warmth and light.

"You still up?"

An odd question, Mia thought. For as Isaac was already beside the fire, parchment and char in his hands, she would have asked him the same.

"You'll get used to it," the Venus adept added, as he nodded at the tent he and Ivan had shared. "Ivan can go to sleep like a log – as a merchant's adopted son, he's spent most of his life on the road. Desert, grassland, bed or wagon…" He clicked his fingers, and gave a small smile. "Took Garet and I awhile, but we're starting to get the hang of it."

A snore cut through the winter air. Mia smiled, in spite of everything, including her own isolation. She'd met the trio only yesterday – first in Imil, then in Mercury Lighthouse, and at day's end, they'd stumbled back into Imil, bleeding from a dozen wounds, lamenting a dozen more that went beyond the physical. Few words had been exchanged, most of them on the plan to leave at first light in pursuit of Saturos and Menardi, but in that time, Mia had learnt some things about her companions.

Isaac and Garet were of Vale – as close as brothers, adepts of earth and fire respectively, who a month ago, had left their hometown in pursuit of the criminals Alex had thrown his lot in. Ivan, who had joined them not long afterwards, devoted to his master of Kalay, and who had, in turn, mastered the psynergetic energies of wind. And in addition to the criminals, Isaac and Garet were pursuing three members of their own – their teacher, Kraden, their friend, Jenna, and Jenna's brother, whom Isaac and Garet seemed torn over whether he be friend or foe.

And that left her.

Chances were that in the journey ahead, she'd find her place among the former trio, but for now, the shadows the fire cast were long, and most fell upon her heart.

The two sat in silence. Isaac, drawing away, barely seemed to notice her. Of the three, he spoke the least, and often, his eyes were focused on naught but the horizon. Nevertheless…

"What are you drawing?" Mia whispered.

…nevertheless, he wasn't completely silent, and when asked, showed her his sketches.

"Jenna," he answered. "A poor rendition, but, well…it helps alleviate the fear she may never see it."

Mia gingerly took the parchment in her hands. In it, it showed a young woman, younger even than she – dark hair, dark eyes, a small smile that carried sadness rather than joy. Isaac might have called it a poor rendition, but by her reckoning, it did a good job of capturing her likeness. Even as brief as she'd seen Isaac's friend atop the lighthouse, carried into its depths by the woman with golden hair, Mia could see the resemblance.

Could see that while the sketch was far removed from the greatest works of Weyard's artists, it had been sketched with care all the same.

"I have more," Isaac said. He fiddled around in his rucksack and drew out some more parchments. "Not just her, of course. I figure that if…when, we return to Vale, our friends might want a hint of our travels."

Mia took them, and quickly skimmed through. Many of them were of the various creatures they'd faced – bi-pedal ants, the walking dead, even some of the bears that prowled these frozen wastes. Some of the sketches were of a town to the south – Vault, if she remembered correctly. None of them were of Imil, and considering what limitations time had put upon them, she wasn't surprised.

But there were more of Jenna. None as detailed as the one Isaac had handed to her first, but still, she could see the resemblance. Some of them even had himself beside her.

"You were close," Mia whispered. Isaac didn't answer, so she came to the last sketch – one where Jenna was looking in one direction and Isaac the other. His billowing scarf and her hair conveyed the sensation of wind. As if air's dagger was keeping them apart.

"I started after our journey began," Isaac said, as he gingerly took the parchments back. "Garet says I'm wasting my time, but I dunno. Jenna and I, we've always been, ah, drawn together."

Mia smirked. "That was terrible."

"I know." Isaac gave her the first smile she'd seen from him since their meeting the day prior. "But when the storm took her family and my father, after that, well…"

"Storm?" Mia asked.

Isaac, after a moment of hesitation, told her. Of the storm that had struck his village three years ago. One that, he and Garet had later learnt, had been triggered by Saturos and Menardi in their first attempt to breach Sol Sanctum. Many had been injured, and of those who'd lost their lives had been Isaac's father, and Jenna's entire family. Or so they'd thought, until a month prior, Felix had returned, very much alive, and very much in league with the monsters who'd cost him the lives of his parents.

"It was hard," Isaac murmured. "Harder on Jenna more than any of us. But after the accident, between Kraden teaching us about alchemy, between talking about everything…I had my mother, Jenna had no-one, we'd talk, and we'd train, and…do you understand?"

Mia understood very well. Isaac was in love. He might not even have been aware of it. More than any of them, Garet had pushed to continue pursuit, even through the night, and had only been stood down by Isaac. But caution, as Mia reminded, didn't mean a lack of caring, nor did soft-spokenness mean cowardice.

Isaac cared, even if he wasn't wont to demonstrate it. And yet while she was humbled that he'd shown these sketches to her at all, there were still lingering emotions beneath that. Envy, in all its spite, reared its mishappen head, even if it be too dark to see it.

"What about you?" Isaac asked, as he returned the sketches to the satchel. "I'm assuming you don't have anyone waiting for you in Imil."

She frowned, envy turning into contempt. "Are you saying no-one cares?"

"What? No. I just…" He paused, before adding, "I never saw you say goodbye to anyone I thought was family."

"Alex was my family," Mia huffed.

"Was," Isaac repeated in an undertone.

The ice shattered, the dam burst. "Alex was among the last of my clan," she whispered. "Frost fever took my mother before I reached my third nameday. Fang and claw took my father upon these very snows." She shivered, despite the warmth of the nearby fire. "Alex was…cousin, brother, mentor, trainer, confidante…" She smiled, in the same way as Isaac's sketch of Jenna has. "And now, like Felix, he's betrayed me. Our clan. My ancestors vowed to never let the light of Mercury be rekindled. They knew the destruction alchemy had unleashed in the Lost Age, and now? Now, he's thrown in his lot with murderers, betrayed us all, and…"

Isaac gave her a look. Sympathy, she supposed, but perhaps his mind was lingering on the same things hers was. That after Mercury had been rekindled, its healing waters had begun to flow once more. The irony was that the very thing her clan had sworn to never let come to past had allowed her to leave her hometown for the first time in her entire life. Many had been the night, even colder than this one, when she and Alex had gone over maps of Angara and lands beyond. She, imagining what they contained, Alex expressing his determination to reach them.

Mixed blessings, Mia supposed. Maybe upon her return (if she returned) she'd find a way to unkindle the lighthouse, while also finding a way to replicate the healing waters now flowing from it. The same water she carried in vials within her own satchel. Waters that might have saved her mother, if…

"What was she like?" Isaac asked.

"Excuse me?"

"Your mother."

Mia knew that telepathy was not among the powers Isaac possessed (unlike Ivan, who'd sworn to never read her mind without permission), but even so, part of her wondered. Nevertheless, she answered.

"Kind," she whispered. "Tall. Thin…ephemeral, almost, like winter's mist taken form. She had a voice like a lyre, and her skills in healing…we were the last of our clan, my parents, Alex, and me, and my mother was a healer without compare. She…" She wiped her eye. "She looked like…I mean, her face, she…"

She sniffed, and looked northward. So far had they travelled, the lights of Imil were naught to be seen. She remembered when her mother had been created, as was the tradition of her village. Her father had once spoken of great crypts of ice beneath the earth, where the clan entombed their honoured dead, but such days were long behind them. With the ground too thick to dig through, the bodies of the dead were burnt, their ashes placed in urns.

Mia had left two in her domicile before leaving. And the memories of them, the memories of that fateful night after weeks of watching her mother waste away…her sniffs continued, and water landed upon the snow.

"I'm sorry," Isaac said. "I didn't mean to, I mean, I-"

"It's not your fault," Mia whispered, as she wiped her eyes. "You lost your father. Ivan never knew his real parents. Garet…" A snore cut through the air. "Alright, Garet seems fine, but…" She let out a sound – half-laugh, half-cry, half-hiccup. "I can't even remember her face you know. It's like she's right before me, and yet I…"

She flicked her fingers in front of the fire. Embers danced in the night air, yet despite her efforts, she couldn't catch them. Like memory, they forever eluded her grasp.

"Can you describe her?" Isaac asked.

"Excuse me?"

Isaac took out a blank piece of parchment, along with more charcoal. "My father's face is burnt into my mind, as is my mother's. But if it would help…"

"What? No. I mean, I couldn't possibly ask you to…I mean, you would…?"

"It doesn't have to be this night," Isaac said. "It can be next night, or many. It need not be any at all, but…" He smiled, just as Jenna had. "Already, I'm starting to forget Vale. The people's faces. The smell of its flowers. On nights like this, I try and remember and…well, there's only so much parchment."

"Then you shouldn't waste it on me," Mia said, as she got to her feet. "But if you would be willing to…I mean, if…?"

No more words escaped her lips. Neither Isaac's. But as the shadows danced, as the embers sang, as star and moon shone as they had since the dawn of Creation…she understood. Understood that he understood, and that was shared…understanding.

"Good night, Isaac."

"Good night."

She returned to her tent. Garet was still snoring – so hard, in fact, that she wondered if she should wake him. Anyone snoring like that, it was a wonder they were able to breathe.

Still, she lay down in her bearskins, upon the frigid ground. She closed her eyes, weary with memory.

And at last, found sleep.