Four years and eight months ago.
The flicker of candlelight greeted her as she pushed noiselessly into the room. Her heart beating into her throat.
Can was turned away from her, knelt in front of his desk, undisturbed, as he studied the glow of blue shimmering from crystal glass. Sanem stood for a moment, watching. As he let the key spin in place over the wooden surface with a speed that was more whimsical than investigative.
Gypsy noticed her presence first, and Sanem found herself halfheartedly frowning at the betrayal of it as she watched the tortoiseshell jump down from his bed, the reticent sound of her feet against the wooden floorboards before she butted the shin of Sanem's leg - as if in encouragement. And slipped out the door.
Sanem let it creak as she closed it behind her, holding her breath.
It was not nerves making her hands shake.
Can blinked as he noticed her. Light from the flame catching over the cinnamon of his eyes as he smiled, warm, welcoming, and Sanem melted a little.
It was not late, late, - not so much that he would be feeling any need to decipher her sudden appearance. Sanem wasn't sure if that impediment was going to make this easier or harder.
He stood as she walked towards him, her arms finding a home weaved into one another in an effort to subdue their slight trembling. Watching as he placed the orb back into the balance of a heavy set, silver cuff-band where it had been living to stop it from rolling away rebelliously.
"Any luck?" She asked, finding herself close behind him in a way that had begun to feel natural, instinctive. Noticing, as her eyes glanced upwards, that his broken window had been temporarily appeased by the fixing of a slab of wood over the ragged scar. It wasn't very attractive. But it was stopping the draft.
"None," He sighed, a taste of defeat in his voice as he turned to face her, the back of his legs resting against the table, easy, relaxed.
Sanem took the opportunity to pull the paper out of where she'd stuffed it into her pocket - ripped out of the final page of her sketchbook that had left it jagged-edged and crinkled. Flattening it out in her hands.
"I thought you might want this," She said, handing him the replica of his mother's handwriting. "In case you need to read it again."
It was a diversion, really, something to divert the blame of her presence in his bedroom should she decide that the thumping of her heartbeat was becoming too much.
He stared at it for a moment in her offered hand, forehead creasing.
"How did you-" He wondered slowly, before he shook his head, a fond smile lighting up his face. "Nevermind."
She handed it over, almost feeling bashful, before unknotting the second. She'd recalled the first without fault. But this one was riddled with missing pieces and white space where the unfamiliar words had turned fuzzy in her head, like trying to see the trees from the forest when surrounded by thick fog.
It joined the other in his hand as she passed it over.
"I'm sorry that it's not going to be very helpful. I don't think I understood any of the important parts."
"You don't have to apologise, Sanem," He said, assertive but gentle. "If you weren't here I'm pretty sure today would have ended up much worse. And anyway, my mother seemed to have worked out enough to think this was somehow linked to the key - so we'll just have to ask next time we see her."
His expression didn't seem very pleased with that idea though.
"She knows about it?" Sanem asked after a beat. "The key?"
YOU ARE READING
On The Wings Of An Albatross
Fanfic"It was pure luck, really, that this hadn't happened sooner. Two years of keeping out of his reach had really been testing the limits of fate, and the sane voice inside her head kept telling her she would have to face him eventually. The world was b...
