Lerazda + Spezra // No Sleep 'Til Bastan

[coolmonsoon]

Who: Lera and Ezra
When: Thursday night, 28/7
Where: Ezra's office > Kitchen
Before/After: Before Operation Return heads out on Friday
Warnings: Some swears and serious awkwardness

Lera forced herself to admit that she was wasting time close to eleven o'clock. She hoped that she could do something for the army's departure tomorrow, but all the preparations that could be made were made. It was easier to work at her desk than own certain facts and feelings, though, and it took time. She had already tried to lay down and get some sleep early -- they marched tomorrow -- but she tossed and turned. She thought she should have been above this.

She wasn't, though, and staring at ledgers and deployment orders that were already done stood as testimony to that simple fact. The Amber Gaze was ready to go to war and nothing she could do tonight could make them more ready.

That meant facing the harder problem. She sighed, stood up, and tucked the chair in her office back under her desk. She was wearing much simpler clothes, today: a sleeveless black shirt and baggy tan pants, both of which she sometimes slept in. She also had sandals on. She debated what to do, wanting to do anything but think about a growing pit of fear in her stomach. People were going to die, a little voice told her, and it was all on her shoulders. She tried to block it out, but that thought lingered at the back of her mind.

The thought of who put her in bed last time came to mind. She learned that Ezra carried her back after a few sleepless nights thanks to an aide; she never really said anything about it. She wasn't sure that it was right at all to go to him, but maybe he would have something to tell her. Something stern, maybe, or even one of those attempts at humor. Maybe it was the same for him. All she had, really, were thin justifications for wanting to talk to him and either get her mind off things or talk it over with him. It made her feel selfish to consider that.

She almost turned back a few times. She did make it to his office door, though, and paused at the light peaking out from underneath the crack between the door and door frame. Lera hesitated, tilting her head to the side, before she reached her hand up and knocked lightly on the door.


His own nights were long, but his stress seemed less than Lera's, and he was used to short hours of sleep, years of juggling several jobs at a time from the crack of dawn to some ungodly post-midnight hour. A lot of it had been in double-checking his guild's readiness with their modern and not-so-modern weaponry, that armour and shields were finished or repaired, and that all those clerics that had agreed to join- a fair number- were outfitted similarly. He was concerned with those who had gone with Morvarid, for Victor who was gone to meet them.

And other things. Little things. Things he had no control over and things he was putting off. It was good to see Rhys and Jordan. Good to see them all working together. Worrisome that all of them would be pulled into war. Who was he to be aiding in a war? Twenty-four with no prior experience except to run away. (But that's what paladins do, isn't it?)

He squashed the thought and tapped his cigarette on the tray he had on the desk, frowning at it. The high collar of his shirt was undone, and he sat back in the chair, ankle across his knee, thinking. Had it been a good life? It could have been better. That was his own fault, though. He took another drag of his cigarette and tapped it again, trying to blow a smoke ring. He'd done a lot of running away, and not necessarily towards anything better than what was in front of him...

The knock didn't startle him, but he paused, staring at the door all the same. "Coming," he said after a moment, standing and pushing his chair back, going to the door to open it. Somehow he wasn't surprised either to see Lera standing there. He reached up, putting his free hand through his hair. "...c'mon in," he said, stepping back for her and bringing the door open with him.


"Thanks," Lera said quietly. It was half out of respect for the fact some people might be asleep nearby and half because she was exhausted, drained, and did not want to make herself be the Mazda right now. She stepped in, walking past Ezra, and looked around the office. She knew it well from when she was his aide, both a lifetime and a few weeks ago. She rubbed her eyes and looked back at him.

"I couldn't sleep," she said. She needed some explanation for what she was doing here at this time. It showed, though; she looked tired and drawn, like she had since the decision to go to war came down. She was tired. But, unlike before, there was something more there: a hint of fear in her eyes, her posture, and even her movements. This was not the simple nervousness that Lera sometimes moved with around him, even still. This ran deeper.

It felt like the idea of being terrified had finally caught up with her. She looked at his cigarette, thoughtfully. She wanted one, a little, but she hadn't smoked one in years (and that was merely her first and last cigarette). "I wasn't sure if you'd still be up."


He put his cigarette to his lips again, watching her wander in before shutting the door. The click seemed loud in the small space, even with the hangings and rugs in the room to damper the noise.

He stayed by the door to blow his smoke out there while she moved further in to keep it out of her way, not wanting to go blowing smoke in her face, always unsure of who appreciated it and who didn't. Not that anyone did, but... some distance couldn't hurt until he was done.

It was easy to see she wasn't her usual chirpy, gung-ho self. He watched her a moment, taking that in. Nervous, yeah, that was his first though. "Yeah, I don't sleep much." By desire or by nature. He wanted to like sleeping but he didn't actually enjoy it. "...you okay?" he said finally, after a moment's consideration. "Sit down. Do you smoke?"

There were two other chairs besides the one at the desk, all of them the same, high-backed and wooden. Not comfortable at all. He'd considered getting something like a couch for naps, but had always put it off. Either soon he'd be back in Bastan or he'd be dead, so it didn't really seem all that important.


At first, she felt bad that Ezra noticed. Then, she felt relieved, because it meant she could maybe talk about it. Then, she felt a little worse because she wanted him to notice. She took a seat when told to, neatly folding her hands over one another in her lap. Any discomfort that the chair could have brought on wasn't noticed, much less remarked upon.

"Once," Lera said. She colored slightly when she realized how that sound. "I mean, I did once. My grandfather visited from Russia -- it was the only time that he ever had a chance to -- and he told me that I needed to learn to smoke because it was an important skill for a girl to learn, so when he picked me up from school, he lit up a cigarette for me and I smoked it on the walk home. And then I coughed and hacked a lot and a teacher got mad and--"

She rambled when her nerves were up. They clearly were here. Her cheeks flushed and she looked down at the ground.

"I'm tense," she concluded. She sighed at that. Her voice grew quiet, instead of the nervous ramble that she was starting on. "I keep thinking about tomorrow. What comes after that and what I have to do. I feel wound up tight and there's nothing I can do."


He settled in to listen to her story as though half-expecting it, smiling slightly as he did so. He'd gone quiet since their talk, since the gathering of guild leaders. Not necessarily in a bad way. More thoughtful, almost gentle when dealing with her, not quite happy but somewhat more peaceful. "I threw up my first time," he offered in the silence while she calmed herself down.

Pushing off from the wall where he'd settled, he walked back over to the desk, snuffing the cigarette out on the tray there, sitting down as well. He could understand how she felt. Part of him felt that way. Another part... felt strangely unconcerned. Accepting? There was nothing more to do except to see how things played out.

"Don't think too far ahead," he said, settling back and resting his hands over his stomach, linking his fingers together as he slouched. "You know what the plan is. Try to stay in the present. If something changes- I mean, I'd be surprised if everything stayed the same- you have to be ready to let go of your plans. Right?"


Lera, for her part, had grown more at ease around him. Things were still confusing, because she had laid out the fact that she cared, and she wasn't sure where they stood. Unlike when she wondered if he hated her, it was a good sort of confusing. It was the sort she could handle, especially when the alternative quandaries involved strategies, tactics, and thousands of lives. The pleasant, if not quite happy, confusion was peaceful to her, too. It was something to turn to, sometimes, to get her mind off the harder things.

Now was not one of them. She nodded her head, animatedly, looking up at him as he snuffed out the cigarette. She smiled at the story about when he first smoked a cigarette. It was tempting to ask more about that and change the subject, but she could tell when she was distracted. She had to focus on the present, as he said.

"Right," she agreed. "The best laid plans don't survive contact with the enemy. I thought of the ways it could go wrong." Ezra had guessed right about that. Her eyes looked down at his desk. "A lot of people could die. I know I shouldn't dwell on--" She stopped short there. She should dwell on that. It was her job to dwell on that. "I knew they could. Some people will, even if we succeed perfectly."

It was right around the corner, though, and that meant a fact that she was burying was right there, now. It went unsaid, but it was still hanging there in the air: whoever died, it was on her command and was her responsibility.


He was silent a moment, thinking on that. Maybe, because he'd been through it already- thinking on the things she'd brought up, forced into his line of sight- the idea was terrible, of course, but not something he could shy away from.

"You can command them, but that doesn't mean they're doing this against their will."

Reaching up, he took his glasses off for a moment, pinching the bridge of his nose. He had a headache, but that wasn't uncommon. Rubbing the spot between his eyes seemed to help it ease off a little. "My guild is dedicated to this. One hundred percent. The hunters, the berserkers... we want our homes back. We want our revenge. We want to protect those we had to leave behind. We want to bring them back."

He looked at her- towards her, really, a little off to the right, unable to make her face out clearly, but able to make out its general vicinity due to her hair against the grey of stone and the otherwise muted colours of the room.

"The mages and the alchemists, your own spellswords- they're doing this because they want to. Because they've seen what can happen. You aren't forcing anyone into this. And anyone who doesn't think they have their life on the line is an idiot. They don't want to die. They're scared. But they can help, or fight, and change all of that. That's why people fight, right?"

He shut his eyes, leaning back in his chair a little so that the front legs came up off the ground. "And anyone in the way... they know they're being fought for. They'll help, too. It might not do much- but you never know, right? We saw all those little local militias popping up in all of those little towns. Going to war- it's terrible- but to just sit and wait. That's worse, isn't it? Especially when you still have the power to fight. So it's on them, too. It's their decision, too."


She noticed that he took his glasses off, sometimes, and rubbed between his eyes. She could guess at the headache; she had one of her own, sometimes, though stress tended to give her excess energy instead of tension headaches. Lera tilted her head while she listened to him, something visible even with the blur. It made her orange-red hair spill more to one side, thanks to how long she wore it. She listened to him.

Her expression softened as he spoke. She nodded. Her golden eyes looked down at the floor, then, and she interlaced her fingers together.

"It is worse to sit and wait," she agreed. It was so much worse, really, looking at the war and watching it hurt people. "You're right. And the people past the borders deserve our help, after--you know, after everything. It's the least we can do." She wasn't entirely convinced. Some of that was natural, though, she thought. "I guess I can't not worry some, because of that. But it's not all on me and it's better than the alternative, by far."

Small steps, she reminded herself. Even if this felt more like a giant leap.

She let out a long sigh. Then, she looked up at him. Her face was screwed up into a half smile that wasn't entirely obvious, but it sounded amused. "Sorry," she said. "I shouldn't be whining about it. It's not very, um, Mazda-y of me."


"Trust me," he said with a sigh, toying with his glasses between his fingers and pouting a little. "I wouldn't want to have this kind of conversation with the old Mazda."

It was easier, sometimes, to be honest without his glasses on. He'd told Joshua about how he'd slept with Rotem with his glasses off. It'd saved them- he'd never have guessed his best friend could throw a punch so hard it would break his nose. He kept them off now, dark eyes unfocused on them.

"...no. There are still going to be doubts. That's natural. That we're not all dead yet- I think that says something. Becoming this, I had to change a lot. Maybe... maybe not for the best. The previous Spenta, I never got to meet him. But I heard about what he was like. And I always wonder, should I be more like that, or like this...? Do they want someone more like that, or can I get by being me?

"But I've been wondering who that person is for a long time, too. And I think, even if I'm still learning, and changing- but it's not a bad thing. I don't think... this has given me more direction than anything ever has. Which is stupid to say, being so young, but- I don't think anything would have happened, back on Earth..."

He rocked the chair a little while he spoke. "In the end, maybe this is a good thing...?

"Well. Who knows." He put the chair down, settling his arms on the desk, putting his glasses back on. "It's who I am now, right? So either I can fit into a mold, or make it fit me. Or compromise." He smiled slightly. "'Cause they ain't gettin' their old Spenta back, that's for sure."


Lera grinned at that. She had come to like Morvarid, rather than simply respect her, but she had to agree. She would not have wanted to have this conversation with her, from either of their perspectives.

The grin faded as he spoke, though. She could empathize with a lot of that; it had only been a couple of weeks, but it felt longer. People looked at her differently, now. The people she met on city streets did not see a normal woman anymore, unless she deliberately dressed down to hide who she was. It was hard to keep a grasp on being Lera Savinkov, sometimes. Moreover, with Morvarid right there, providing advice, she could easily be compared to her predecessor. It was a double-edged sword, at times, but the positive edge remained much sharper than the negative.

Lera clasped her hands tighter, looking down at them for a moment, and then nodded her head. "Yeah," she said. "Sometimes I'm glad for the opportunity--I mean, I didn't feel like I had a lot of direction on Earth, either. I felt like I was just trying to stay alive, here, at first." She wanted to outrun Acher, not get eaten alive, and maybe enjoy herself a little. "And becoming Mazda--well, I can't say it's direction that I found. Stark necessity's just not the same. I probably won't know until the war's done."

She looked up at him and smiled again. "I like the idea of making the role fit me, though," she said. "I did a lot of trying to fit into roles on Earth. I never felt like I did, though, and that I was just pretending."


He considered that, nodding a little bit. Their situations had definitely been different- jobs, family, life choices, it was all different. How they felt now about their situations, also different. But the fear was the same, a fear of failure that would mean severe repercussions if they lost. And they wouldn't even know the half of them.

"The world's unstable. Both of them are. If things keep going as they're going- I mean, there's got to be some kind of finality to the merge." He and Rhys had discussed it often. What would the final result be? He still couldn't picture it. "And as it stands, the more Earth comes into Zenderael and vice-versa, it's going to need people to navigate it. Whatever else is going on- the greycloaks have their own agenda in getting this done. They want us having it. The likeness means something. But... well. That's as near a direction as I can figure. It's still pretty vague. But I think that's our duty, for now. Guide the worlds along as best we can. When we can more clearly see what's going on, then we can worry about that."


Lera nodded her head to that. Their work, in a sense, was never done. The greater danger of the greycloaks and whatever they intended hovered in the distance; once the war was done, they would have that to deal with, as well as the wide scale problem of managing the two worlds. "Yeah. I'm keeping my eyes out--ah, I've ordered the Saftans to form an intelligence agency, but it's still in the planning stages, but that could help with collecting information on the greycloaks," she said. The ramble started, then it faded off again. "The worlds combining poses its own problems--though it's given us some solutions, too. And some things that are a little... I don't know."

She sat up straighter, then slumped back against the chair, and looked up at the ceiling. Her expression softened; she was tired, still, but she sounded a little dreamier. "Wonderful? Not in the great, amazing sense of the word. Full of wonder, like it makes you think or surprises you. Seeing alchemists working at pharmacies in Fall City and this little shop--uh, I saw it back when I did patrols. This French baker married a Saftan baker, then they opened up this little bakery and started making fusions of Earth and Zenderean cookies and cakes. They had this one..."

She put a hand over her mouth, but giggled anyways. "They called it a Notre Dame de Nenacookie. It was tasty."

She looked back at him, straightening her head out. "Maybe that's what I want to be--um, not delicious cookies. But the best of both worlds, brought together." Like her idea for the forum name, which somebody else won instead! "I don't know, I'm probably being hopelessly optimistic."


"... a little optimism isn't bad," he said, eyes shut again. He didn't feel like putting his glasses on just yet. He thought for a minute about cookies. He could go for some cookies. His appetite wasn't usually the best, but cookies always sounded good.

He sighed a bit. He really was tired, and had exhausted himself worrying already. He pinched the bridge of his nose again and slipped his glasses back on, noticing that she was looking at him, but looking sleepier by the moment. "Just don't fall asleep in that chair. It's not very comfortable."

He tried to think on the more technical aspects- intelligence agencies? Really? But he considered the possibility of putting some of his people into that. Integrating all the different classes, instead of separating them, like they had been before their arrival...

He wondered, briefly, about paladins and clerics, about their belief in Xumurdad. Whatever his suspicions on the Vahishta- he still thought frequently of the man's admission, his own ability to access Earth, though he'd played it down, or simply gotten better at it- the man was certainly on their side to rid Bastan of Aerveas. He would have to trust him for now. But if they integrated, or sought to... they'd been lucky to avoid as many faith-based confrontations as they had. Once there was no longer a common goal, would it run as smoothly?

His wondering ended up being not so brief. He fell silent for a long moment, thinking on it.


"I plan to order new chairs, some day," Lera said. She certainly wasn't going to fall asleep in this one. She shifted in it, before she sat up straighter again. She wondered, sometimes, if trying to adapt Earth ideas -- like intelligence agencies -- was really more like shoving a square peg into a round hole. On the other hand, hadn't she said that they should try to be the best of both worlds?

She realized, a little belatedly, that he was lost in thought. Worrying, maybe, over something. She kept giving him things to worry about that. That gave her a guilty feeling; she never liked that she caused him problems. On the other hand, they had moved past that, at least a little, and he wasn't kicking her out of here or refusing to see her. It was a balancing act, sometimes: trying to be natural, but still mindful of not annoying him. She hesitated for a moment, before she spoke up.

"Don't worry, you won't end up carrying me back to my room again." Or get a little bit of her drool on his uniform, which she was mercifully unaware of. "Thanks for doing that, though. Last time I fell asleep at my desk, I was stiff as a board."


"It'd be a good idea for whoever comes in here next."

He shifted, not quite noticing that she was beating herself up again, not quite as watchful as she was, but tired on top of it. His eyes had lost focus while he thought, so that he head to refocus on her. He grinned a little, sheepish. "I was hoping it would remain a mystery that would leave you vaguely curious but also creeped out for weeks to come. Ah well."

He stretched his arms out, fingers interlocked, cracking the knuckles in one swift movement. "Well, it's not like I haven't done it myself. Tonight's not the night, though." He seemed to hesitate a moment, reaching up to scratch at the side of his face, thoughtful. "... you gonna head off?"


She grinned back at him, matching his sheepishness with her own. Lera tilted her head to the side when he asked her that question. Did she think she could sleep? Probably not. She had no desire to keep him awake, but he wasn't exactly telling her to leave, either. "Ah, well, I can," she said. "I don't think I'll get to sleep quite yet. I don't want to keep you up, though."

She needed a walk. And maybe a drink, first. A thought occurred to her after that. "I might get some tea, actually," she said. She reached a hand to her pocket and pulled out -- no, not another handkerchief -- a keyring. "I can get into the kitchen. Want to come with?"


"Like I said," he told her, pausing. "...or think I said. I don't sleep much." Had he said it out loud, or had it been just really loud thinking? He couldn't remember now.

A moment of consideration before he shifted and stood. "Yeah, sure. Always been curious what the kitchens look like." Stuffing his tablet into his jacket, Ezra headed over to the door to open it for her. There was nothing of value, no papers to be seen, nothing to glean any useful information from. He was especially careful of that.


"I'm not sure. No argument here, though." Lera looked moderately embarrassed. She wasn't sure, either, which probably meant that they needed sleep. Instead, they were going to the kitchen. She got up and walked through the door, giving a glance around the office, before she started down the hallway that led to his office. "It's a nice kitchen."

It was a short walk to the doorway they needed to take -- which led out to the battlements, for a brief trek over them. The night air came gusting in when she held it open. No one was out; the interior battlements were the ones they had to cross, and the guards were all on the outer walls and the towers. The castle was tall, though, and it gave a good view of the Nenakret and the surrounding countryside. The Nenakret was awash in golden light to her eyes, from both magic and the lights of Paris.

"Pretty," she murmured, as she stepped onto the stone battlements. Her toes curled a little; she was wearing sandals, not boots, and it was just a little cool from this height. Her eyes locked onto the Eiffel Tower, lit up at night. "Sometimes I get used to seeing Paris everyday."


Reaching up to rub the back of his neck, he followed her out, listening more than watching her now. Of course, that was also because he walked behind her, and the lighting was different once they hit the battlements. He went out from time to time, at all hours, to look out and look at their surroundings. What had it looked like before Paris had merged?

He was all right with the cool weather, wearing his boots, still in his uniform. He couldn't see half of what she saw, but the sight was impressive enough. It wasn't as though he wasn't used to seeing a city lit up at night, but c'mon. Paris?

He stopped a moment to look a bit longer. "...I'd never been out of Underwood," he said after a pause. "Fall City sometimes for stuff sometimes, but..." Letting himself trail off, he took a moment to look over the countryside. "Never even considered I'd ever see Paris. Seemed like just as stupid an idea here as it did back in Underwood."

He shrugged a little, hands in his pockets now, slouching a bit as he continued walking.


She stopped next to him, resting the palms of her hands on the stones of the battlements. She looked out at the city awhile longer, trying to make out some of the other sights, but the golden glow of various magical properties made it hard for Lera to make other aspects of the city out. It was still pretty, though. She looked sideways at Ezra, head tilting up to look up at him, and then glanced back at the city. She fell in beside him.

It seemed like an awfully self-critical remark to make. It brought a frown to her face, thinking of it, but she refrained from pointing it out directly.

"You grew up in Underwood?" she asked. She lived in Fall City before, but she had been to Underwood several times. There were some nice restaurants out there. "What was it like?" She colored a little after that, though, realizing she had said it without thinking. "Uh, if that's too personal, it's fine."


"Born and raised," he said, slowing a little to let her catch up. "Nothing too exciting. Good suburban area to raise kids, mom always said. Big families like mine aren't really the thing to do but Underwood was a good enough place, I guess. Mom talked a lot about how much she stayed inside as a kid and how she wished she'd been more active, so she made sure the four of us got a lot of the outside. Big fields, lots of sports- but we were all hyper kids, I don't think she could have kept us inside if she tried."

He didn't seem to mind talking about it. He even seemed to like it. "Stephanie Cruiser was a pretty good high school. The area is diverse enough, I think I could have learned a lot if I'd been interested." He smiled sheepishly, shrugging. Studying wasn't his forte. He had to work harder than the average person to get most of his paperwork done. "I had... I had some pretty good friends," he said, that evasive tone creeping back into his voice. "Fall City was a big adjustment even though it's less than an hour away from where I grew up."


She took a couple of longer steps to catch up with him. She learned to keep pace with him, despite the slight difference in height and his long legs, when she was his aide. She looked sideways at him, smiling back at him. It was nice to see him enthusiastic about something. Her smile didn't even falter at the moment of evasiveness. "I liked every time I got to visit there. I actually went to Stephanie Cruiser a couple times for my job. And there's the Italian restaurant near there, uh, Franco's. Really good."

She nodded her head. "It seemed different from Fall City. Uh, calmer, I guess?" she ventured, tilting her head to the side. Fall City had been an adjustment for her, too, really, but for entirely different reasons (and at an entirely different stage of her life). "Did you play any sports in high school?"


"Ah! Yeah, Franco's. Had my first job there bussing tables after school. Used that money to start my sleeve on my right arm-"

He reached down to unbutton said sleeve, rolling it up. Water-themed all the way up, across and over, but most of what could be seen was waves and the beginning of koi fish.

"Quiet? Yeah, I guess. More a place to live than a place to work. Dad has his own workspace, computer and gadgets and workbench- ah, he's a carpenter," he added by way of explanation. "My brother Nathaniel's apprenticed to him..."

He fell quiet again, having gotten into the swing of talking about his family. He paused to take a glance around, unsure if he trusted their surroundings.

"...but yeah, sports... not really. Photography. Art stuff. Music. But you can't do skateboarding for gym. Biking either. I did a lot of both out of school."


"That's cool!" she exclaimed, quite professionally. She resisted the urge to grab his arm and have a closer look at the tattoos. She still beamed down at them and nodded her head, cheerfully, and had to use a bit of effort to make herself look back at his face. She realized he wanted to discuss his family -- and really, she didn't mind that -- and it was sort of public here. She opened up the door, leading into a hallway.

The kitchen was almost here. She could just steer the conversation back to family once it was a little private again. "You didn't strike me as an American football player," she said, with a small grin on her face. "That all sounds fun. I like biking--ah, when I got back to Fall City, I was hoping I could live close enough to bike to work, but the rent was out-fucking-rageous."

She walked down the hallway, peering about. No guards here, but that was to be expected. It was the locked side entrance to the kitchen. "Did you ever go ice skating? I did it a lot, especially when I was younger."


He found himself suddenly biting down the urge to say do you want to see the rest of it, biting his tongue by accident in the process. He rubbed his chin in an effort to cover it up. Now was definitely not the time for those kind of shenanigans.

He grinned a little. "No, no football. I could do it now, but I broke too easily before."

Having guards, not having guards... he was never quite sure why to or why not to have them in any given place. Finding none in this hallway seemed especially strange to him, distracting him to the point of not quite hearing her question, though his head turned back around after a brief glance backwards.

"Huh? Oh, yeah, of course, when it wasn't raining." He sounded cheerful saying that, taking pride in the rainy nature of where he lived. "I was pretty good at skating. Anything that makes you go faster- that was what I was looking for. Except cars," he said thoughtfully. "Never got into cars. Probably 'cause I could never afford one.

"Where did you grow up, anyway?" he asked suddenly, curious.


"We have to do that!" Lera exclaimed loudly. She flushed, then, partly because it was nighttime and people should be sleeping, and partly because she chirped a little when she said that. "I mean, um--I can actually freeze lakes. With my sword. So we can go ice skating basically wherever there is a lake. Even if it's summer."

She did that in Omghan, after all.

She kept walking, until she got to the kitchen door. She pulled the key out of her pocket while she talked. "Saint Petersburg." She skipped a beat, remembering. "Russia. Not Florida. I was there until I was four--ah, you know, Russia. Things weren't so good, so Mom got a job in the States and we moved to Fall City." She trailed off a little, thinking about that. It was a mix of confusing memories. "But... you know, even if I wasn't there long, I remember parts of it really well. It's where I learned to skate!"

She spoke of it fondly. It was clear in her voice that she was sentimental.

She looked over her shoulder and flashed a smile at him, while she turned the key. She opened the door into the darkened kitchen. Morvarid had wiring installed; it was dark in there, but there was a hum of the refrigerator. "I grew up in Fall City after that. Foggy Harbor High School."


"What, really?"

Man, spellswords were so awesome. He felt another brief flash of jealousy aimed at that very issue, but let it pass.

"Yeah, sure. Sometime. We should try that." He wanted to be more excited about it, but the past was easier to get caught up in than the future, and he just couldn't guess enough of the days ahead for him to feel more comfortable planning things. Even ice skating.

He stepped into the kitchen with her, automatically casting an orb of light to bob around, forgetting at times things like light switches and lanterns. "Fogey Harbor?" he asked, almost cheerful again. "Worst basketball team in the county, am I right. It was like watching a bunch of old people playing."

Ah, he really was hungry. Best to take advantage of it now. "Any bread?..."


"After the war," Lera clarified. Everything had to wait until after the war. Even if she had forgotten about it, for a moment, and she was content to try to forget about it again. She flipped on a light switch and walked into the kitchen all the way. The light orb was neat, but she didn't want to stumble around too much. She looked at him and flashed him a grin.

"Yeah, our basketball team sucked. I guess we weren't so bad at baseball, though," she mused, cheerful again. She let the door to the kitchen close. They had real privacy, now. She pointed at one of the cabinets. "Bread's up there. I think they haul it in from one of the bakeries."

There was also a fridge. It looked out of place, really, with the Zenderean technology.

Lera went to the stove and activated an alchemical heating element. It crackled, a few golden bursts of light appearing to her eyes, and she started filling the kettle up with water. "You said your dad was a carpenter?"


"Mm, bread." He'd have to bring Rhys over for celebratory grilled cheese... the girls could come too, this time. Something about the idea sat well with him. Wordless, he made his way over to the cabinet indicated, opening it up and pulling down a loaf, forgetting about the orb for a moment and letting it trail behind him as he found a cutting board and a knife. Not a small task in a kitchen this large, meant to feed so many people.

"Ehhhhh, baseball." He shrugged a little. "I got no patience for it. I always got picked for left outfield or whatever and I'd just fuck off or nap in the field or something." The running part, that was okay. Not so good at hitting the ball, though. Altogether? Really not worth his time.

Bread cut, he went to the fridge to poke around there, too. Cheese, cheese... bananas? Not in the fridge, but just to the side. "Is there peanut butter here?" he asked out of the blue, before thinking to answer her question. "Oh, uh- yeah, he is. Still is. He ain't that old yet." More comfortable, more slips in his enunciation. "Tables, chairs, crown molding. You name it, he does it. Family trade for ages. Nate'll carry it on. What about your dad?"


She looked over her shoulder and grinned at him, before she went back to getting the tea started. She assumed he wanted some -- it was why they came here, after all -- so she had two mugs out. Neither matched; they were handcrafted wooden ones made by someone before the worlds started to merge.

"Cabinet on your left," she said. She didn't have to look for that. "There's nutella up there, too, if that's more your speed." It was her favorite, but Lera had a sweet tooth. She came down here for late night snacks, sometimes. Something about making her own food, rather than having a chef prepare it, felt right to her. Maybe it grounded her or reminded her of where she came from. That and asking one of the Amber Gaze cooks to prepare a peanut butter sandwich would have been silly.

The carpentry thing was cool, she decided. There was a slight note of jealousy, but she laughed it off. "My dad? Something between professionally unemployed and a homemaker," she said. "My mom totally wears the pants in the relationship."

She skipped a beat. "She's pretty scary."

"Nah, nah, I'm not much for chocolate... peanut butter's fine." More poking through cupboards, even the ones she hadn't pointed to, because sometimes it was good just to poke around in cupboards.

He pushed his glasses up as he looked over to her again while she spoke about her family, though it seemed in much more clipped terms.

"My mom is everyone's mom. She loves people. Dad usually just fades into the background. It seems kinda like she's head of the household but they're pretty even on everything. They talk everything out, even what to have for dinner. Well, he usually loses that one, but they talk about it, at least."

Peanut butter down, he grabbed a banana and went back to the cutting board. Peanut butter on, banana peeled and sliced, he fussed putting the pieces on so that they covered the whole of the bread. "What's your mom do?"


"She's a chemical engineer. Did you hear about the big oil pipeline Russia had, about twenty years ago, that got shut down?" Lera asked. "She was doing work associated with it and when it went down, so did her job. She moved to the States and brought us along, since she could speak English. She works in this firm in downtown Fall City. But she seems like she should be the villain in a spy movie."

She left the water to boil. Everything else was prepared, including the tea bags, which were laid out. It meant that she had nothing particularly pressing to tend to. Lera walked across the kitchen, to his side, and peered around him at his sandwich.

"That... looks good," she said.


Chemical engineer? That sounded extra fancy. Had he heard about the pipeline? Possibly? History wasn't his strong suit. Especially Earth history. Especially now. But he nodded a little, vaguely, not wanting to turn her off of talking.

He couldn't imagine his mom having a mysterious side to her. She was insanely practical and open at times, and a terrible liar to boot, and loved her office job and database programs more than any sane person should. What was it like to have a mom that was anything else? He couldn't even imagine it. "Is she hot?" he asked suddenly before he could stop himself, a lightning quick grin and blush spreading across his face. He looked back to his sandwich. Why had he said that.

"Ah, well. I lived off of these and grilled cheese sandwich, so." He cleared his throat, not looking up again, simply grateful that his voice hadn't cracked. Twenty-four, the new thirteen. "Want one?"


Lera's mouth opened and she stared at Ezra's back.

It took her brain a few moments to catch up with that. She nodded dumbly, before she realized that he was not looking at her and all of the nods in the world would not communicate that. She sounded flustered when she spoke. "Yeah, uh, I'll eat a sandwich. That sounds tasty. I mean. Great."

It took her a second to calm down. Clearly, it was an error. But an error that could still come with a price! She shook her head. Then, she smiled slyly at his back.

"My mom looks like me, except older," Lera said in a chipper voice. And innocently. "So you tell me."


"Sure, sure," he said, moving away from his unfinished sandwich to grab the loaf of bread again. Don't comment on the question don't comment on the question don't commen- damnit Lera don't comment on the question!

He made a noise, looking over at her sharply at the statement. He stared at her a moment, eyebrows drawn in, before saying slowly, "well... that means you've still got some time, I guess..."

No, don't grin at that Ezra, don't- damnit, no- Amos you are not that funny don't flirt with your comrade damnit full grin engaged.


"Oh, somebody's into older ladies, huh?" Lera giggled at that. She blushed, too, and walked up next to him.

She figured she could cut up some bananas while they talked. Or flirted. She grabbed a knife and a plate, then she cut down into a banana with a chop. She looked sideways at him, grinned, and then looked back down at the banana.

"I got a tattoo, too, you know," she said She could spare him a little bit and give him something else to talk about (that wasn't about the attractiveness of her mom, because that would get weird fast). She still sounded cheerful about it.


Oooh, that was low. "N-not as a rule." Ah, there was the stutter. He jumped at the solid chop and fell silent, chastised, determinedly looking down at the loaf of bread as he cut two slices off. It didn't quite taste the same as it did back home- a little closer, now that they were adding Earth ingredients in to their baking- but it was like eating any new kind of food, and he'd given up expecting anything to taste like something from Earth months ago.

The bananas, they were definitely how he remembered them, though. Thank God for bananas.

"O-oh. Oh? Yeah, really? What? Uuuh. What?" The next question was going to be 'where' but, red as he was, decided to venture away from it.


She kept chopping, if with a little less force than before. She put the knife down after she had a few banana slices, though, and held her arm out. She wore one of her sleeveless, form-fitting black shirts on that she slept in sometimes (and wore underneath her armor). It meant her arms and shoulders were bare, so she stuck her left bicep out in front of him. Not quite close enough to invade his space.

Two things stood out. The first is that she was, clearly, of Northern European extraction. Lera was pale. The second was the lack of a tattoo.

She pointed at a small mole.

"The needle hit me and I shrieked," she said. "Most expensive dot ever."


He arched an eyebrow, watching her set up for whatever grand event was about to happen. A long pause, and he looked down at her arm, clearly confused.

...

"Are you serious!" he exclaimed suddenly, with a short burst of disbelieving laughter. He stared at her arm, then back up to her. "Those guys charge eighty bucks minimum at best- are you serious?? You actually paid up, too?"


"Hundred and fifteen bucks, up front," Lera sighed. "Totally serious."

She grinned up at him despite the sigh, looking sheepish. "It was right after I got out of Basic and a bunch of us went to get those cool tattoos showing our unit!" she said. "And then the needle hit me, so I jumped up. And that's how I became Private Prissypants for the next six months."


He'd started laughing a little, but after a brief silence while she spoke, he started up again, more in earnest this time, trying to stop only to snort and start again.

"Oh my God," he sad after a minute, out of breath for laughing, "oh my God." He had to push his glasses up to wipe at an eye. "That happened? That really happened. Fuck." He sniffed, picking up the knife again to dig inside the peanut butter jar. "Gotta admit, doesn't sound as good with your new rank. Admiral Prissypants."


Lera looked at him, eyes rolling. Her attempt to appear disaffected failed, though, as she finally broke into a smile and she started laughing along with him. She wiped at her eyes, putting her fingers on the counter, and looked back at him. Admiral Prissypants!? She wasn't a prissypants!

Mostly!

"Admiral Prissypants, huh." She kept giggling and playfully smacked him on the arm that did not have a knife in hand. She put her other hand over her mouth, before she looked back at him and grinned. She looked down at the sleeve that was partly rolled up, at the fish, and what she could make out of his tattoo sleeves.

She started giggling again, which made it hard for her question to be intelligible. "Did you ever find Nemo on yours?"


"Ow," he said, not hurt at all by the smack to his arm, grinning still but turning back to the preparations. He closed up both of the sandwiches and cut them in half, sliding her two halves over.

But she started giggling again and he looked over, head tilting in question. Did he-

"Wait, fuck, like the Disney fish?" he asked and laughed again. "Yeah, I think I do, but they-"

And he paused suddenly, his ears going red again after a brief moment. He rubbed at his collarbone. "Well, I'm not gonna go takin' my shirt off in the kitchen. So it'll have to remain a mystery." He took up half a sandwich and bit into it to keep his mouth shut.


She turned redder before she could really stop blushing, this time. She looked away from him and laughed nervously. She hadn't meant it that way, but now she was left thinking that it wouldn't be so bad to see. She had to try to stop that particular line of thought quickly. She looked back at him, smiling sheepishly.

"I was kidding. You really have the fishy from that movie? That's awesome," Lera said cheerfully. "What else do you have? I suppose I can settle for being told about it."

It came out more flirty than she intended. She needed to get a grip on this. Maybe drink a glass of cold water, which was like a cold shower. That might do the trick--except then the kettle's whistle blasted. She yelped in surprise and spun on a foot to dart to the other side of the kitchen.


"Well, I mean, a clownfish or three, yeah," he said, his voice jumpy. "Not, like, not Nemo specifically, come on." He shoved more of the sandwich into his mouth, ears still red.

"So, it's like... squid sinking a ship up here," he said once he'd swallowed, going up one arm, "then it's just like, fish and water and shit, all across here, and then down- fish and cogs like you already seen-" and he rolled up the sleeve a little higher, where the cogs started to become more visible, with the koi fish swimming in and out of the gears. "Been working on it since my first at 16, but my money's had to go to other stuff the past ... uh the past year." Past year... it'd been six months he'd been in Fall City, and five since he'd come to Zen... almost a year.

He had to think on that a moment. "But yeah," he said, softer, "lot of work's gone into it."


She poured the tea. It needed to sit for a bit in those mugs, which she left them to do. It was a black tea with berries on it (and French text, but it was hard to make out from across the kitchen). She was back in time to watch the display.

She tilted her head to the side. It sounded intricate; she wanted to see it for other reasons, now, but the thought of asking made her nervous and she decided to put it off. She almost asked if he would finish it, now, but that seemed unwise and she realized it before she said it. They had a war to get through before they could start thinking about the future. She looked up at him, saw the reddened ears, and thought about the jokes, laughs, and smiles earlier.

Putting the future on hold sucked, she decided.

"That's really cool," she said softly. She was smiling again. "How did you think up the design for it?"


He considered the question, thinking back to when he was a teenager. Not that long ago, but even a couple of months felt like a long time ago now. "Uh, well- water baby, I guess. I love bein' in the water, I always loved stuff like octopus and fish and ships and shit like that. Just all about how stuff comes together, I guess."

And the girl that broke his heart in high school when she moved to Africa. Well and the whole time they were in high school and she was too embarrassed to be seen with him, that sucked too. Symbolism. Terrible grade school level symbolism.

"Got outta control after a bit, I guess. Dunno if I'll add on when this is done."


She thought he said something about a lot of outdoors activities when he was younger. She guessed that included some swimming, now. "I don't know," Lera said. "It doesn't sound that out of control. It sounds really cool. Uh, I'd like to see it one day." She flushed. "Not, um, in a--I mean, obviously, you'd need to take your shirt off or... something--um." She laughed, nervous again, and looked across the kitchen at the brewing tea. She stammered the rest out. "But not as an excuse to get you to--the design sounds fantastic!"

She stopped sputtering, held up a finger, and took a second to collect herself. Lera walked back across the kitchen and brought both wooden mugs back, having regained a little bit of her coomposure. Lera extended one of them towards him. Steam rose off it. The tea was dark, with just a hint of a red color to it. It smelled a little like berries.

Lera lifted hers and sipped it. "I like this flavor. There's sugar, too, if you need some."


He was strangely quiet while she ranted. He did find it funny, but he was thinking, too, or trying to think, and ate instead because it would occupy his mouth, hopefully, from anything else it wanted to do, like blurt out inappropriate things, and let her run herself out without interruption.

What did he think of Lera? He felt increasingly terrible, but not in a way he usually did. He knew he could have treated her better. How she acted wasn't her fault, and lashing out at her hadn't been the answer. He'd certainly been raised better than that. And he was trying, now, trying to sort himself out, trying not to let himself get bogged down by all the bad things.

He chewed, swallowed, took the mug from her when she came back. He took a sip- sweet enough without anything in it, and just hot enough to make him swallow quickly but not burn his tongue. Ah, he wasn't drunk enough for this. His fingers drummed along the side of the mug.

"If you want to see it, you can."

He took another drink.


It was confusing on two levels. Lera started to realize he was getting quiet; maybe she had crossed a line and offended him. That made her feel a different kind of nervousness, but she mostly kept it to herself, while she sipped that tea. It was a familiar confusion: that concern that she had offended him or hurt him. She tried to say that it was unlikely, that they were past that, but her feelings did not always match her brain on that matter.

The other confusion was newer. They had settled into being something that wasn't just camaraderie and necessity. The old, uncomfortable feeling that came from guilt and feeling unable to help were in the past. The attachment and caring remained, though, and she wasn't what they were. They were both things to fret over.

Before she could start fretting in earnest, though, he said that. She swallowed her sip of tea before she spat it out on the sandwich he made.

"Sure," she stammered nervously. "Th-that'd be nice."


He looked at her while she answered, then away, to the space ahead of him, raising his cup again to his mouth. He wasn't blushing like before. He even felt calm when he said it.

But it was a kind of testing, one he wasn't sure even he knew the answer to. "Not here, though," he said, his voice still level, reasonable. His nervousness showed in how he drummed his fingers against the side of his mug. "Probably my room. Or yours. Someplace like that."

Tap tap tap. He looked back to her, hesitant.


She turned bright red now. "Yep," she practically squeaked. "My room. I think it's closer. Closer is good. Great, even!" She needed to stop talking before, somehow, she said the entirely wrong thing and blew it. She knew she was capable of that. "Uh, let's... finish our drinks and sandwiches first?"

The sandwich did look really good. And, besides, what would the kitchen staff think if they found two prepared banana and peanut butter sandwiches that went mysteriously untouched. Lera had no desire to explain that it was not a hungry poltergeist possessing the kitchen; instead, she was just incompetently hitting on a fellow guild leader.

That reasoning was why she started eating.


"Yeah," he said, automatic, "sure."

His neutral tone seemed the complete opposite of what he appeared to be asking her. Ezra had never had the greatest luck asking anything from women. Usually it was a waiting game, to see what they wanted, to see what they did. To see if they would be the ones to ask, as though that was the validation.

But he didn't want to wait. Impatient and selfish, maybe, knowing they were going to march tomorrow. To war. The concept was still distant to him, no matter how greatly anticipated. It occurred to him he could have asked Jordan, but- well, the time, the distance, the circumstance. None of it seemed right.

Not looking at all bothered, he went back to his tea, taking up the other half of his sandwich. Too easy? He chewed twice as many times as he needed to.


How did he manage to be neutral and look calm! Lera boggled at that quietly while she ate. They were having the same conversation! He had to know what they were getting at, unless he didn't, in which case, once again, her life was over. Forever.

She took a deep breath between bites. She had to calm down and try to approach this rationally. It had been two years since she had done anything like this. This sort of situation hadn't come up since then, partly because she had always broken it off before it could. Life in Fall City had been one long game of trying to match the expectations put upon her, which meant being calm and professional and reasonable.

These sorts of things were never calm or reasonable, though. She gave up. She decided to go with her instincts, act on an impulse, and take a chance. They were marching to war tomorrow. It might be her last chance. More soberly, she realized, it might be their last chance.

Somehow, despite eating slowly because of nervousness, the last bite of the sandwich came without her realizing. She took a long sip of her tea and then glanced at him. "Um, well," she said, almost stammering. "All done. I'm good to go, if you are?"


He was patient. He was patient because he wanted her to think about it, which she was clearly doing. He didn't want her to feel pressured. He didn't want her to think this had to be done. He'd be just as fine going back to his room on his own as following Lera to hers. He was patient because he was nervous, too. This wasn't a drunken decision (not that the last one had been a bad decision, or at least not because of the drunkenness). This was something he was turning over the ramifications of in his head, sober and clear.

And unless they were going to get ambushed on the way there he couldn't see any downsides. Especially if neither of them were going to get to sleep anyway.

"Hm?" He looked back down to her, head tilting slightly. "...yeah. Lead the way." He sounded surprised that she'd decided on this. He took another quick gulp of tea, trying not to choke on it, and set the cup down extra-carefully so as not to topple it by accident. Having been leaning against the counter, he pushed away and fell into step beside her when she started off. (If she started off.)


There were things to fret over. What it meant now and what they would decide it meant tomorrow came to mind immediately for her. They weighed on her mind.

She stood up, nodded, and tucked the chair in. She locked the door after them. She had talked the whole way to the kitchen; the walk back, which was longer thanks to her quarters being deeper in the fortress than his office, was quiet. She worried she could send the whole thing spiraling off into awkwardness if she opened her mouth. It wasn't until she got to her room and got it open that she said much. It wasn't even well-furnished; while the room was large (she was the Mazda), it only had a desk, a chair, and a bed.

"I, uh, should probably got some more stuff," she said, dimly. "Maybe add a sofa. Or--or something." She was rambling nervously. Two years, she thought. She looked around the room for a moment. "Anyways, um, I suppose--" She kept talking while she closed the door. "Maybe like a bookshelf or three, and maybe a dresser, and maybe--"

She closed her mouth, then looked at him. She laughed at herself. She was rambling again, when they both knew exactly what the other was thinking about. She smiled, then she stood up on her toes to close the distance between their heights. Her hand slid behind his head, she closed her eyes, and then kissed him. Those same things were still on her mind. Those things, she started to realize, weren't things she could decide on now. They could find them out later. Working them out would probably be nervous, scary, exhilarating, and maybe even wonderful.