Trevean's first reaction to the sight of Dante as they passed in the hall was to think that another attack had happened. The darkness had gotten inside to get at Kaden, so why not Dante?
His second reaction was a double take with the realization that what Dante was covered in was human blood.
Seconds later Trevean had taken off running, not to Dante to stop him, but the opposite way towards where Dante had come.
The path was easy enough to follow, the blood droplets marking a clear line, growing larger closer he got to the scene of the murder, if it was murder. Trevean didn't know, and he was afraid of what he would find.
His footsteps rang in the corridor only to stop suddenly when he entered the courtyard and saw for himself.
Had he been a man unfamiliar with violence, Trevean might have found himself unable to cope. As it was he forced his face blank, as near impassive as he could manage anyway, and tried to feign confidence as he strolled into the yard in search of answers.
Unfortunately there were none to be had. Lilith had been claimed by the healers, and no one else had seen the event.
It was just as well. Trevean hadn't been planning on sleeping anyway.
Kaden stood stunned for a minute as the rain started. He tilted his face up the the sky and held his hands out, not perceiving the danger, fascinated. It ran in cold little streams down his face and neck before he understood what Nadia was saying. Her grip on his hand and urgent pulling brought him to.
It all happened so fast and by the time Kaden realized they'd never make the house Nadia was pulling him to the tree.
"This is like when Shola . . ." he didn't even need her to confirm it. Kaden wasn't sure which would be better, if it were Shola this time as well or not.
But just when he thought they were relatively safe Nadia was gone again.
Kaden shouted to her repeatedly as the walls of water swirled around them. It was just as well she couldn't hear what he was saying, but the sound of his voice was evidently enough to give her some guide back, and when he saw what she held Kaden understood.
"You idiot," he sighed with plain relief before looking up and out as they burrowed trough the roots to a place as near the center of the tree as they could get.
"It's like a sandstorm, but this kind won't bury you alive," he breathed.
The sudden sight of flying debris gave him a sudden very real understand of how dangerous the storm was in it's own right.
A moment later he had shifted so his back was against the opening, shielding Nadia and her tiny charge from the weather with his larger bulk.
"Will it be all right?" he asked after the kitten, hoping for a distraction.
Boreas listened intently to everything Shola told him, chuckling softly as she explained.
"Sounds like the stories he spun when he was drunk," he murmured before coughing a bit, swallowing some water, and digging into the next root piece she gave him. Surprisingly Boreas ate it without complaint. "I liked those stories. It's nice to think there's some truth to it."
He smiled slightly at her. "I'm too old, and too close to death, my dear, to quibble over what is or is not logically possible anymore."
Another drink of water and another bite of root and he was talking again. "As for the ball, I can't say I'm not relieved. Oh not because of you, it's by no means an insult. The dear boy seemed very happy with you and I was genuinely glad to hear he had good news. But, between you and me, I was a little hurt I hadn't been invited to the wedding. We are on good terms you see, as much as we pretend otherwise to the outside world. It was all show, giving me the property in exchange for an apology to you. Don't get me wrong, Violet did owe you an apology . . . there's too much of her mother in that girl . . .
"What was I saying? oh yes, We needed an excuse to make the transfer without drawing too much notice and your ploy did provide a perfect opportunity."
With a satisfied smirk he took the next offered piece, leaving only one remaining.
"You've almost finished it, and your color is improving greatly. How do you feel? If you're up to it, I would like to see the flying machine; we have nothing like that at home."
"You know . . . I do feel better, Let's hope it takes." With a groan of effort Boreas pushed the blanket from his lap, stood with a slight grimace, and made his way over to the desk. From the top drawer he withdrew several sheets which he handed to Shola for her perusal.
"Engineering was a hobby of mine," he explained as she unfurled them to display a series of complicated cross sections for what was very clearly an airship, had Shola known what an airship was. "Imagine if, instead of the islands, or in addition to them, we could live on one of these. Whole cities, some devoted to raising crops . . . we could fly around and avoid the hurricanes entirely . . . Speaking of which . . ."
A moment later Boreas had stepped over to a small radio in the corner and after he had fiddled with the dials a low voice came over the crackle of the static.
" . . . . Hurricane . . . in progress . . . All trains . . . grounded until further notice . . . Residents . . . advised to stay in . . . . shelter . . . ."
"hmm . . ." Boreas mused, "I'm afraid, my dear, that that makes you my guest for the time being. Never fear, it'll clear up to safe levels by morning. They usually do."
Boreas proved to be a gracious host, and while he remained in his flannel pajamas, it was clear that his health and energy were improving every moment. He quizzed Shola on her favorite foods, and ordered supper for them both, the cook was quick on congratulating Shola for convincing him to eat, and while they supped he filled her ears with all his plans for how to make water world a better place. True, the man was a crime boss, but he, like Trev, had gotten that way from necessity. It seemed the government had a tendency to forget who it had been created to support, and Boreas preferred to bypass the red tape where possible. He was no saint, and certainly wasn't a hero, but then neither was Boreas a total villain as, misguided as he was, the man still possessed a vision and a hope for the future that benefited a great deal more than himself.
At the end of the night, and after confirming that no trains would be running until morning, Boreas led Shola to a little room in the guest wing.
"I'd offer you better, but they all have such large windows and considering the storm . . ." He broke off painfully. "Besides, this was the room Trevean chose to stay in himself, the nights when he was here. And, it might be an awkward suggestion seeing as how you are not wed, but I believe he left some old clothing in the wardrobe if you wanted a change. I don't believe Violet has anything that would suit, or anything you'd want if it did."
It was with a fond and much more energetic goodnight that Boreas left Shola to her rest.
It was a simple room with wide twin bed, a plain wardrobe, and a small desk under a small shuttered and bolted shut window. But all the furnishings were well crafted and the upholstery plush and soft. Inside the wardrobe there was indeed a pair of shirts cut to Trevean's size and some older grey trousers.
The desk had a few scattered pages on it, one blank, another in Trevean's hand with something that looked like a faded grocery list on it.
On the floor wedged between the desk and the wardrobe where it had fallen some time past and been forgotten was an old notebook. When Shola retrieved it she found several half torn out pages, also in Trevean's hand, with what looked like a half finished song. The pages were blotted with old wine, the ink run in places, but she could make it out.
My Prayer
Verse
It starts out just surviving one day at a time.
Watching, observing, setting my own bar.
Pushing against the mob's rhythm and rhyme,
And finding I still just don't quite make par.
Broken dreams shattered in a million pieces,
Reflecting my life with a razor's edge.
Cut loose silver linings, all joy ceases,
Dark voices whisper. "not good enough." New line, need rhyme
Chorus
So I'm reaching out to grasp your hand.
There has to be more but I've nothing to give.
I'm reaching out, please hold on tight.
I'm begging for help. Teach me how to live.
Verse
No place to turn, nothing to bring you,
But a broken mind, broken heart, broken dreams,
No use in living, no hope to cling to,
Useless, unwanted, unworthy, unseen.
As I slowly descend into the deep,
Dark water closing in over my head,
Suffocating, yet too afraid to leap,
Into the light, and the clear path you've led.
Chorus
And I'm reaching out to grasp your hand,
There has to be more but I've nothing to give.
I'm reaching out, please hold on tight.
I'm in need of your help, Teach me how to live.
Bridge
I need you with me, need to hold your hand.
I don't know your will, or even your plan.
Please give me the hope to keep moving on.
Remind me you're with me when all else is gone.
I want to learn how to love, Learn to forgive.
Please show me your mercy. I don't know how to live.
I don't know how, but I want to live.
Chorus
So I'm reaching out to grasp your hand.
There has to be more but I've nothing to give.
I'm reaching out, please hold on tight.
I'm begging for help. Teach me how to live.
I don't know how, but I want to live.
It was beyond the reasonable hours of the night when Trevean at least, exhausted, made his way back indoors.
The scene had been gone over, the healers relayed what little info they had gotten out of Lilith, and a search for Dante had begun. No one yet knew why what had happened had, only that Dante was responsible for the death, and not just any death, a brutal one.
Once Trevean had realized the truth of the situation, or what he could piece together the truth to be, he desperately tried the bond, but he knew it was a long-shot. There was no clear reply. The Nack had wondered if Shola trusted him to handle something like this, but then it wasn't his first time in the ring, not even his first time this side of it, and if she was displeased, well she wasn't exactly here to object.
But as he made his way back to his own room, weary and resigned, he noticed a shadow slipping out of Lilith's.
"Dante?" he called softly. "Dante, it's all right. She's safe." Considering the circumstances that seemed the right thing to say.
"I won't ask you what happened," Trevean continued in a low tone as he slowly approached, "But this is a mess of things right now. And with Shola not here to smooth the way . . . I've done the best I could." He vary carefully did not lay any accusations. . He could tell the state the other man was in, too far gone for Trevean's soothing tactics to be any use.
"But I need you to stay quietly in your room until Shola returns and we can sort this all out. She should be back in the morning."
He was surprised when Dante calmly obliged.
Trevean spent the rest of the night camped in a chair just down the hall from Dante's door pretending to read a book. He wasn't playing guard exactly, but Trevean made the very picture of a concerned friend keeping vigil.
He hadn't been planning to sleep anyway.
