Sevastyan
In the stairwell below the Residency, Sevastyan adjusted the hoodie around Rei’s face.
Rei’s eyes met his, framed by the black fabric and the fringe of his dark hair.
His mask covered everything below his lashes.
Ache spread out from Sevastyan’s chest. They could do this.
They were doing this. Something planned so long and it had come down to this.
A quiet stairwell on a cold, overcast day felt too muffled, too mundane.
The door on the floor below opened. Ellisandre flowed up the stairs, white cape rippling around their knees as they climbed. Turning to face them was pure instinct and need. Rei squeezed his hand.
Ellisandre searched his face. They would never ask.
He lifted his head. Whatever his goddex needed to see, they saw.
Their stride brought them to the landing.
For a moment their bodies were close. He could smell their soap and the cedar from their closet.
Eyes closed, he drew the sense of their presence in.
“Last time I was here, I was answering your call,” Ellisandre said. They were speaking to Rei.
There was no mark left of that day now. No bodies. No blood. He’d searched.
And yet the drums were rolling, thudding in the deep.
Rei squeezed Sevastyan’s hand. Ellisandre’s shoulder brushed his, lingering, then moving. It was enough. He opened his eyes.
Ellisandre mounted the final flight of steps. Sevastyan followed, Rei’s hand in his.