As Fleur took another drag of her cigarette, I couldn't help but appreciate the simplicity of the act. Amidst the complexities of arcanist politics and clandestine operations, there was an odd comfort in the shared silence and the occasional puff of smoke that danced in the sky. Even if I wasn't too fond of the act myself.
She took another puff of her cigarette, her hands slightly trembling. It was a subtle quiver, one that might easily go unnoticed if not for the watchful eyes of a coworker. I observed the tremor, a silent acknowledgment of underlying tension that lingered within her.
Noticing my gaze, Fleur let out a soft chuckle. "It's not nerves or anything if that's what you're thinking," she remarked, her tone carrying a hint of amusement. "I've been to Araway many times. This," she gestured to her shaking hands, "it's just from today, the aftermath of the mission."
The mention of the mission brought back a flood of memories from earlier—the crowded underground markets, the revelation of Xerces, the confrontation with King, and the subsequent failure. The events unfolded like a vivid tableau in my mind, each frame etched with its own complexities.
The corners of Fleur's lips lifted into a wistful smile, a subtle reflection of the intricate emotions she carried. She began, her voice trailing into the night air, "King and I go way back, Eli. Much like Darius is now, King was like a father figure of sorts."
I leaned against the railing, my eyes fixed on the distant horizon, the moon casting a faint glow upon the sea. The rhythmic creaking of the boat beneath us provided a soothing backdrop to Fleur's narrative.
"King used to appreciate me," Fleur continued, her words carrying the weight of nostalgia. "We were close, you could say. Partners in crime. He saw potential in me, in what I could become. I, in turn, looked up to him, admired his skills, his charisma, and how he built the underground markets up from nothing. Together, we navigated the thin line between chaos and order within the secretive world."
She took another drag of her smoke and sighed, letting the weight of her words settle amidst a cloud of grey smoke.
"He took me under his wing when I was just a child," Fleur confessed, her gaze distant, lost in the memories of a time long past. "I was naive, eager to prove myself in a world that often overlooked the capabilities of a young girl. King, with his charisma and persuasive charm, made me believe that he was my mentor, my guide through the intricate web as a fledgling arcanist."
Her knuckles turned white as she gripped the cigarette, crushing out the embers. "But how could I have known what he'd do? How he'd manipulate me? I was just a child. It wasn't right, what he did, to mould a child into a tool like that."
As the boat cut through the waves, Fleur's words hung in the air, a poignant revelation of the vulnerabilities that even the strongest of us carry within. I remained silent, allowing her to share the burdens she had carried for so long.
"It really does get to us, doesn't it?" Fleur continued, her eyes fixed on the night. "No matter how many times you've been through it all. The choices, the consequences. The weight of what we do. I'm starting to think that time isn't really on our side."
I exhaled slowly, the cool night air mixing with the lingering scent of Fleur's smoke. "Time," I muttered, contemplating her words.
"I used to doubt everything, Eli," She continued. "Doubt my choices, doubt my allegiance, doubt even the smallest actions. But tonight, seeing you all, I realized we're still here. We may not have achieved our goal, but we survived. And maybe that's enough for now."
The boat rocked gently, mirroring the ebb and flow of our conversation. The sea seemed to carry away the weight of Fleur's confession, leaving behind a quiet understanding between us.
Before I could respond, the sound of approaching footsteps interrupted our contemplative moment. Lucas emerged from the shadows, his presence a stark contrast to the quiet introspection that had enveloped the deck.
"Can't get any sleep?" Lucas asked, his tone carrying a hint of annoyance.
Fleur flicked the remaining ash from her cigarette and reached into space within thin air, creating a tear in time and space to put her cigarette in the trash. "Just having a smoke before hitting the hay," she replied, her demeanour shifting back to her composed nature I was more familiar with.
She left us with a nod, disappearing into the cabin as Lucas muttered a quiet "prick" under his breath. I couldn't help but chuckle.
"Caius snoring keeping you up?" I asked, leaning against the railing. Lucas shot me a look of mock irritation.
"Yeah, like a chainsaw," he grumbled, reaching into his coat for a cigarette. "Figured a smoke might help drown out the noise."
As he lit the cigarette, I glanced out over the dark expanse of the sea. The distant glow of Leode's lights seemed to fade as we sailed further away. The rhythmic sound of the waves against the boat provided a soothing backdrop to our conversation.
"Odd how things have changed, isn't it?" Lucas mused, blowing out a puff of smoke. "Before you came along, we'd do the occasional job, keep things low-key. Now, it feels like we're caught in the middle of something far messier."
I nodded in agreement. "More jobs, more arcanists passing through. Chaos and intensity seem to be the norm."
Lucas tilted his head, regarding me with a scrutinizing gaze. "You notice that too, huh? It's like you've brought a storm with you. Not that I'm complaining. Adds a bit of spice to the usual routine."
"It sure sounds like you're complaining," I sarcastically retorted.
Lucas let out a chuckle.
Maybe a bit," he admitted, a wry smile playing on his lips. "But let's talk about the auction. You could've made a move to the door when I got to you. Why the hesitation?"
Sighing, I turned my gaze to the sea. "It's been bothering me too. I wasn't scared or anything. Just felt the weight of my inadequacies. The pressure to not screw up. I should have taken the initiative."
"And it's not like I knew how your abilities would actually work," I continued, looking over at Lucas.
"But that's the thing," Lucas remarked. "No one really knows how other arcanist's abilities work. This supernatural world is full of uncertainties that can't be taken at face value."
Seriously? Are we even on the same side? The least he could've done is give me a heads up. It's almost as if he didn't even care. Was Darius supposed to tell me about them or was this just a complete lack of communication? It's as if these guys don't even care.
He took another drag from his cigarette, exhaling a plume of smoke into the night air.
But then again, Lucas had a point. I couldn't let a single misstep define my abilities or my potential. It wasn't about whether I got knocked down, it was about whether I got back up.
"Whatever," Lucas said, flicking ashes from his cigarette. "You'll only get better with experience. Just like everyone else. Do you really think we all started out as good as we assumed we'd be? Well, I wasn't that bad, to be honest."
I shrugged. Obviously he was right about the experience making you better. But still, way to be humble Lucas. At least you tried this time.
Lucas sighed. "I really do wonder what Darius sees in you."
With that, he flicked the rest of the cigarette butt off the railing, watching it disappear into the dark waters below. "You should get some rest though, or you'll continue to stay inadequate."
With that, Lucas turned to leave, his silhouette blending with the surroundings. "I'm going to find a drink, maybe it'll help me sleep easier."
"Sure, whatever floats your boat," I mumbled, half to myself. The rhythmic hum of the boat's engine and the gentle lull of the waves washed against the hull as we pressed onward.
Deciding that the deck wasn't the ideal place for a good night's sleep, I made my way inside the boat. The soft glow of dimmed lamps illuminated a few scattered chairs in the common area. I picked one near the corner, away from the prying eyes of any late-night wanderers.
The worn fabric of the chair cradled me as I settled in, the gentle creaking sound blending with the subtle vibrations of the boat.
I was used to the rocking of a boat on the water so I didn't have to worry about seasickness. Back in my old life, I would go out on my parent's yacht sometimes on vacations. It was good to relax on with a good book if I wasn't studying for my next semester of course. I had gotten my sea legs long ago.
Lucas was right about a few things though, despite the way to said it. What did Darius see in me? I was currently the most useless member at the Den so it seemed, yet it was as if he was looking and listening to me the most.
Maybe that's just me overthinking it though. To be frank, it's a little self-centred to think that he was only focusing on me.
Closing my eyes, I let the ambient noise of the vessel and the rhythmic rocking of the waves lull me into a state of semi-consciousness.
As I drifted into the realm of sleep, the haunting dreams that had become a peculiar aspect of my nights once again took hold. This time, however, the transition was seamless, and I found myself standing in a dream world that felt both familiar and foreign.
Tall green grass brushed against my legs as I walked through a sunlit landscape, the sky above a perfect shade of blue without a single cloud in sight. The distant sound of crashing waves indicated the presence of an ocean nearby.
I tried to move, to look around, but my dreamlike consciousness was fixed in this moment. In this person's body. Even in my lucid state, I was an immobile observer.
Approaching the edge of a cliff that went on forever both to my right and left, I gazed out across the vast expanse of water, spotting another land in the distance. The scenery was breathtaking, but an unshakable feeling of melancholy lingered in the air.
Turning away from the ocean, my eyes fell upon a figure—someone I recognized. A man with perfectly white hair and amber eyes stood before me, cradling a massive leather book.
His stoic demeanour faltered, and with a heartbreaking gesture, he dropped the book to the ground. Falling to his knees, his shoulders rocked as he began to weep, a sorrow so profound that it resonated within the dream.
As my borrowed eyes looked down into the grass, I saw scattered objects of various hues. The significance of these items eluded me, leaving an unresolved mystery in the dream.
Slowly, a bright light started to obscure my vision, blinding me.
Abruptly, the dream world dispersed as I awoke to a soft light filtering through the boat's windows and into my eyes. I guess that's what was blinding me in the dream.
Daytime had arrived, and the remnants of the dream clung to my thoughts like cobwebs.
As I pondered the dream, a disquieting question surfaced in my mind. How could I be seeing such dreams? Were they fragments of someone else's memories, or perhaps the byproduct of another arcanist's abilities? Given the abilities I'd experienced, such as Inquisitor Michaels' Red String, the possibility wasn't entirely improbable.
Rubbing my eyes, I sat up in the chair that I remembered I was still in. The boat's gentle rocking persisted, a reminder of the ongoing journey.
Looking out of the boat, I took in the scenery of the vast ocean. In the distance, a land could be seen on the horizon.
Araway.