An uncomfortable silence filling the cramped room, Chiri leaned against the wall. Impassive towards the man who glared at her from the opposite side of the wooden single bed, she merely continued to monitor its occupant restlessly. His complexion pale and expression warped into a grimace even as he slept, Chiri could press herself into the bare boards more rigidly as she became increasingly unsettled by the motions of his irregular breathing. Another crackle of static felt amongst the confines of the dingy boarding house longing. The other persons’ presence was impossible for her to dismiss completely. Glancing up to acknowledge their mildly disagreeable company, Chiri finally broke the oppressive stagnancy within the room, “What brings you both here?” The casual query made with mild disinterest, Chiri soon returned her attention to the infirmed Allen lying on the bed between them. “Never mind that,” Tristan replied, agitated by the attempted small talk, “how did this happen?” Arms

The wood of the door bowing as another violent pound came from the other side, Tristan prepared himself for its inevitable breach. The attack beginning shortly after Horus and Chiri had left their meager lodging. Several men had begun to encroach on where he and Allen were made to wait for their partners’ safe return. After seeing Horus and the Banshee off, Tristan paced outside. Confident that the two siblings were powerful enough to not be defeated easily, he worried more that they might end up quarreling with one another instead. Remembering their tussles in the Alliance, Tristan’s fretting was interrupted by the slow progress of the group of men that approached. Their vacant expressions and unnatural movements making their procession more conspicuous Tristan had barred their entry into the inn. His interference met with immediate aggression as one swung a large fist at his head. Tristan had ducked and landed a hardy punch directly into the aggressor’s abdomen. The counter land

The room and its outturned chairs falling silent once more. Chiri sat, curled in the lap of the man at the head of the table. Her feet swung playfully over the arm of the chair, she fiddled absentmindedly with open buttons of his shirt. Sighing as she pulled at the tiny loose thread she found there, Chiri rested her head contentedly on Cazer’s chest. His embrace, the closest place she would ever be able to call home, she relaxed now as she returned to it. The imperfect and broken pieces of themselves fitting together, to create something stronger. Chiri knew that it was flawed and fragile, but even if just for this moment, it was hers. Not the light and airy sensation that she thought love might be, it sat heavily on her chest as the ends of the thread she had been fingering frayed. Knowing this attachment to only be temporary, Chiri let the thread slip through her fingers. Unable to communicate her contentment at finding herself to be back in his company, her slender digits wandere

A few fluffy clouds present on the bold blue of the sky, Chiri heaved a heavy sigh as she watched them lazily drift overhead. Their soft forms bobbing far above the tall white spires of the steeples, she envied their freedom from the matters of the humans below them. Some priests and other members of the clergy eying her suspiciously as they shuffled through the entrance, Chiri stood unmoving from her post. Their hushed conversations humming as they passed down the narrow stone corridor, which led to the inner sanctum of Crosson, they gradually faded away to intermittent silences. Shifting uncomfortably on the opposite side of the arched entryway, Allen pulled at the neck of his collar again. His bright and honest appearance in stark contrast to her foreboding demeanor, they stood like contradictory bookends at their sentry post. Her eyes crinkling from the intensity of the light refracting off the city’s pristine white buildings, Chiri shielded them with a hand as she remarked on h

A mild summer’s day in Ineset, Chiri flicked through the pages of her tome idly. The book held above her nose; it shielded her eyes from the sun as she lied in the luscious carpet of grass in the courtyard. A mild breeze rustling the pages and a few strands of her dark hair, Lance paused long enough to tuck the offending strands back behind her ears. Chiri’s head resting on his lap, her eyes did not remove themselves from the text to acknowledge the gesture nor did she mind it. Their companionship mostly circumstantial, neither felt the need for words to be spoken between them as they engaged in their separate pastimes quietly. Lance continuing to tinker with whatever new artifact had fallen into his possession at the time. There was only the sound of metal clinking and leaves brushing against each other in the wind to distract Chiri from the lines of her book. Chiri and Lance, both trainees at similar times, they were alike in the regard that they had no aspirations for their career