~Chapter 121~
"You can ask; I don't mind," Mae said as she sat across the kitchen table from Xial'dren, a single lantern dimly lighting the space around them.
The sounds from outside, filtered through the walls, became muffled whispers. Mae found them easy to push aside and ignore, her focus was Xial'dren. There was something unnatural about him being there. His ears constantly adjusting, shifting to every sound. He had lowered his hood, but had yet to remove his gloves, his hands resting awkwardly on the table. He was uncomfortable. He was stiff, and withdrawn, his eyes wandering, examining every detail, every object, every moment with a critical gaze, while she sat with her hands submerged in a bowl of warm Zuchan tonic, letting it soak into the tiny cuts and nicks in her hands.
"What is wrong with your hands?"
