Hymn of the Elder Gods

Memory Remains

Arman's fingers twitched incessantly - opening and closing, threading, pinching. He leaned against the cool stone of the house, and stared at the sky with the hatred of a thousand lifetimes.

Samir stepped out next to him, flame flickering dimly as he lit up a cigarette. "Light?" He offered.

"Trying to quit. Smoking is an unsustainable habit during the apocalypse."

"Fair enough," Samir shrugged, the crimson of the embers catching against the slate gray of his gaze. He blew out a mouthful of smoke, and it dissipated into the cold night. Above, the sharded tear of the sky was only distinguishable by the lack of stars. But through the thick cloud cover, they could almost pretend everything was normal. A long, careless exhale, cigarette dangling by his side, and then, flicking ashes to the concrete, his lips curled into a tiny smile. "You settle things?"

"With the client? Yeah. Who do you take me for?"

"Knew you would," Samir grunted.

"You've given me a fucking weird role to play, boss. S'all I'm saying."

"I need her to trust me. Trust us."

Arman slid his hands into his coat pockets and hummed. "Well. I suppose it's not too hard to pretend. Though I don't agree that it's strictly necessary."

"If we offered to support her from the start - gave her unconditional support - don't you think she would have been more suspicious? Even now, she doesn't know what to do with me." Samir took one more drag and dropped the cigarette, stomping on it firmly. "I can see it in her eyes. No. It needs to be gradual."

A snort from Arman - one of disbelief. "Yeah. This will be fun to explain someday. I'll leave that part of the plan to you."

"You worry about your part and I'll worry about mine."

"Wasn't that the original premise of your agreement with Eve?" Arman pushed off the wall, shaking his head disapprovingly. "I suppose I can't complain. I should be grateful enough that you regained some of your memories."

"Must have been frustrating for you, huh?" Samir ran a finger along the wall of the house as he turned to face the man. Beneath his touch, the building crumbled, carving a deep crevice into the rock.

The door swung open.

Kernels of sand danced amongst their feet, the only evidence of what he'd done, and Eve slipped outside. She seemed calmer now, more steady, her flaming hair neatly braided and hanging over a heavy black backpack. Catching sight of Arman, a soft scowl laced her mouth, but it was gone as soon as it had appeared, replaced with cruel disinterest.

"Still not here?"

"He's late," Samir replied, glossy leather shoes hiding the flattened remnants of his cigarette. No doubt she could still smell it.

"And that doesn't surprise me in the slightest." Her skin was damp from a shower, still blooming with rosy blood just beneath the surface, curls of wet baby hairs stuck to her neck and brushed back from her temples. "But if this meeting is as important as he's made it out to be, he'll be here soon."

"Do you even know who we're supposed to meet?"

"No." Chewing at her bottom lip and ignoring Samir's prying glance, Eve scanned the misty road. Han was always late. It was a bit of a relief that this aspect of their relationship, at least, had not changed.

She heard him before she saw him. The sound of a horn, long and low, followed by wheels, skidding down the asphalt. Then, from the curtain of white, the yellow glare of headlights, twisting up the mountain road at a pace that was entirely unsafe.