𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐑𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐞

𝐅 𝐎 𝐔 𝐑 𝐓 𝐄 𝐄 𝐍

𝐓𝐰𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐲-𝐎𝐧𝐞 𝐘𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬

 Outside her window, young mystics run and play in the fresh snow. There is one particularly gifted child that manages to animate a snowman they had made. Only for a few minutes, but it chases them around in circles before falling apart to nothing more than a pile of snow. The collapse of their snowman doesn't phase the kids, they only regard it for a moment before continuing on with whatever game they're playing.

Nearly all day, Briéa has kept herself holed up in her room. Periodically she would switch from laying on her bed and staring at the ceiling to balancing on the back legs of her rickety chair staring at the cracks in her desk. Around noon she spent over an hour in a hot bath. She mixed in salts that smell of lilac and nearly fell asleep in the tub. But she pulled herself out when she was only minutes away from becoming a dried plum.

Reihan visited earlier that morning. They didn't talk much. Mostly sat. Briéa rested her head in Reihan's lap while she brushed through Briéa's hair. She knows Reihan would've stayed all day if she could, but she had duties of her own.

An hour ago Briéa grew tired of lying on the bed so she sat by her window and watched the young mystics play in the snow. Half an hour ago that grew tiresome so she moved to the ground. Now she lays on the floor, scanning the marks on the ceiling from this particular side of the room. One hand traces the lines of the wood beneath her while the other turns Aesira's snake bracelet over in her palm.

The sun begins its quick descent and the room darkens. She doesn't bother with starting a fire or lighting any candles. Eventually, she might make her way back to the bed. But it doesn't matter. She could just stay on the floor all night feeling empty.

Feeling empty on the bed. Empty in a tub. Empty on the floor. It's all the same.

Her door creaks open. She doesn't move. The door gently shuts, there are footsteps, then Zaarin is standing above her, one bottle of mead in each of his hands. He doesn't say anything as he sits on the floor beside her, back resting against her bed frame.

Zaarin unstops one of the bottles and tilts his head back taking a swig. "Twenty-one today, yeah?" He asks, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

Briéa nods. Her hand clutches around the bracelet and she turns her head enough to look at Zaarin. She expects him to be looking at her, but he's not. She follows his gaze and realizes he's staring at a large chip in the mantel.

Surprisingly, that mark was Reihan's doing. Accidentally of course. She was drunk and got too enthusiastic playing with Briéa's dagger. Any other blade would've shattered to pieces after hitting the stone, but Briéa's, laced with magic, only carved a hole. The two laughed for nearly an hour as Reihan tried, and failed, to pry it from the stone.

Briéa sits up, setting Aesira's bracelet on the floor beside her, and reaches for the bottle in Zaarin's hand. He takes another quick drink before handing it to her.

"This is exactly the kind of thing Sira would've wanted." She motions to the bottle in her hand. "She never had a taste for sweets, which meant no birthday cake." Briéa slides herself to sit next to Zaarin. Another drink of mead. "She would've liked a fire though."

Zaarin doesn't say anything as he points towards the hearth. It comes to life with flame.

Briéa shivered but made no move to pull her cloak tighter around her. A fire would have given away her position far too easily. Besides, she didn't plan on being out there much longer.

Captain Itorok was flanked by two officers that had been closely trailing her for the past few hours. Neither of the two wielded a sword, but rather a heavy black axe strapped across each of their backs. The captain however had a traditional captain's sword attached to her hip. Briéa had one to match at her own side, one she stole from a lower-ranked captain a month ago. Of course, she broke off the bear that ornamented the hilt, but other than that it was a handy companion for the Reaper's Shiv.