It wasn’t uncommon for him to leave the hotel after dinner.
Of course, never without saying goodnight to his mother—he knew better than to sneak off without a word. Not because she’d truly be furious, but because she’d make a point of being disappointed, and that was somehow worse. Still, tonight she seemed well distracted by her fascinating new guest.
He doubted she’d miss his usual goodbye half as much as she normally might.
Regardless, he left as he often did—his steps measured, his coat collar turned up against the evening breeze—and wandered through the streets of Morrow’s Hollow toward familiar ground. He didn’t live at the hotel. He had his own apartment tucked above a quiet row of storefronts near the main square.
But before that, there was always the coffee bar.
Routine. It was a comfort he didn’t question.
The scent of roasted grounds met him before he even reached the door. The soft clatter of ceramic mugs, the hum of conversation, the occasional hiss of milk steaming in silver pitchers—he preferred this over any loud bar or crowded lounge. Public, yes. Busy, a bit. But warm. Predictable. Human.
He lifted a hand in a gentle wave as he entered, the host offering him a bright “Evening, Blue,” and a nod that his usual would be brought over shortly.
Drifting his way to the booth near the window—his booth—and slid into the seat with the ease of someone well known to its corners. Outside, the sky had deepened into a sweep of lilac and distant stars, glimmering above the curve of Aelora’s skyline.
From his coat, he retrieved a compact device—sleek, foldable, about the size of a palm—and laid it onto the tabletop. With a soft flick of his fingers, it unfurled, unfolding like living paper into a thin translucent panel that settled across the table’s surface. A glowing crossword projected itself with crisp white lettering, waiting patiently.
Blue smiled faintly and began to play.
He didn’t speak. He never did. But his ears were open—to the laughter behind the bar, to the rustling of the evening crowd, to the rhythm of a town that didn’t ask questions it didn’t need answers to.
This was how he closed a day.
With noise. With peace.
This may have been truly the best place to ease Joslyn into a world of technology without it being such a sharp shock to her senses the way the flying starship had. Once she’d left the walls of the hotel and stepped out into Morrow’s Hollow of the world Aelora, there was so much that felt similar to the villages in her own home, simply… different. As if they’d seamlessly blended the natural world with the metallic and technological. The main area of streets where there was the most foot traffic seemed to be made with cobbled stone for ease of walking pushing carts or…! Floating carts! Motorized bicycles that moved without needing to peddle. Street lamps that were slowly starting to blink on in a dim cozy glow as the skies shifted hues towards night time.
Many shops were getting ready to close for the night. Places like a grocery, a tailor… familiar spaces. Places to dine, places to drink… Joslyn watched people going up the street, taking note of the items they wore and what they carried. Some spoke into bracelets on their wrists, some were poking at glowing tablets in their hands.
Common things she was going to need to learn the names of, else she was going to be discovered as one of those uncharted off worlders.
Virelya may have suggested she get to know and talk to locals, but… Joslyn wasn’t quite ready for that yet. Mentally tired, over stimulated, these could be the reasons, she knew. Hopping straight into bed would’ve been the smarter move for certain, only she couldn’t help but want to at least have a look first. To really take in what this place was made of before she had to focus on learning it all.
In her own world she may have even looked for a little trouble, but this was not her world and trouble was the last thing she wanted to get into!
So Joslyn stuck to the public street, making mental note of every shop she passed. Finding the places she could get books, where a library might be. Place she could sit and study without being distracted or in someone’s way.
…thoughts wandering and wondering how long it was wise to stay in this single world. How much did she need to learn in order to travel unnoticed? She’d need money to travel. At least not so much to buy an entire starship of her own, but there must be traveling ships. So then she needed a skill that was useful and in demand.
That’d be a problem. Joslyn was a scholar. Of magic. No one was going to pay her to read books and recite incantations! And manual labor? She’d rather run screaming naked down the street.
Maybe someone would pay for the show.
She did not like this feeling of going from someone oh so important, to now feeling like a teeny tiny fish in a great big sea. Hopefully it would fade fast as she got her footing. Until then she wandered and walked. Watched. Observed. Admired, even, all those little things that seemed to be universal even across great distances.
The café was half full—just enough chatter to create a soft wall of sound, a steady rhythm of voices and clinking glass, laughter tucked into corners and drifting through steam. The walls were brushed steel softened by reclaimed wood, old beams threaded with subtle lights that glimmered like fireflies just overhead. A screen above the bar played a quiet loop of planetary weather updates and regional news, muted and half-watched.
In the booth by the window, Blue sat with one leg folded beneath him, having taken to unfastening coat but not removing it entirely, steam curling from the mug nearby at hand. The scent of roasted chicory and nut-sweet crema curled around him like a shawl. His coffee was light—sweetened with a touch of blossom syrup and something nutty that lingered in the back of the tongue.
He sipped it slowly, not because it needed to be savoured but because he liked the pace of things here. Familiar and comfortable. The kind of place where time didn’t rush you out the door.
His eyes wandered down to the spread of his compact device unfolded across the table like living parchment. A crossword pulsed softly in pale blue ink across the surface, its letters blinking patiently for input. He had four clues filled. One he disagreed with on principle.
He was just considering erasing it when a flicker in the corner of his eye pulled his attention up.
Outside the rain-speckled window, moving at the edge of the footpath and taking in the world like someone measuring the weight of it, was Joslyn.
She didn’t look afraid. Just… braced.
Like someone used to walking into storms. Well she said she was a storm mage. That might actually be common to do!
Her head turned slowly, taking in street signs, the glowing tablet in a vendor’s hand, the way a passerby whispered into their wrist cuff like it was a spell. Blue saw the calculation behind her eyes—the way she catalogued everything with silent speed—and for just a moment, he believed he saw her shoulders lift with the quiet gravity of someone pretending not to be out of their normality.
And then she passed the window. With easy thought, he tapped the glass once. Soft. Enough to hopefully catch her eye. Oh he was aware that he was probably more of a irritating nuisance but that didn’t really matter. He was more than willing to be a known face. Someone she seen and knew even if she’d sooner wish him away. Just having even one person as a familiarity could make a world of difference!
Whenever she turned, Blue was already looking at her—not intruding, not expectant, but with that quiet steadiness.
He lifted a hand in greeting, then tilted his head gently toward the empty seat across from him. A slow, open gesture followed—a palm turned upward, not summoning but offering. An open invitation.
Steam still curled from his mug. The seat was warm. The space was quiet.
And should she step inside, there’d be no questions. No pressure. Though he wasn’t insisting either, leaving it to her whim.
A tap. A single tap on glass, so soft and so subtle that who could have possibly noticed it happened at all. But then, maybe it was that simple single tap that stood out amongst everything else that managed to catch her attention. For it didn’t fit with everything else.
Joslyn paused, taking a single step backwards to find herself peering through the glass at the ocean eyed man with the silvery hair. Blue sitting there as serenely, gesturing his hand. Her own eyes followed the motion, taking in the booth seat covered in worn leather. A table set with some strange glowing paper, a steaming brew of something she could smell wafting strongly from the business’ doors. With a tilt of her head she peered past him into the place itself… a tavern! A coffee tavern, which was surely an unusual blend of things, but delightful none the less.
It suited him too. Better than a raunchy bar that smelled of hops and full of boisterous noisy drunks.
When she straightened back up, she rest her hands on her hips – an imperious sort of look, especially in they way a slow smile crept across her lips. As if to say I knew you would be here all along, when that couldn’t possibly be true. With a little bit of her lingering there, posturing like she was still deciding whether or not she was going to join him, even though she knew she would the moment he gestured the offer.
After a beat she did indeed backtrack to the doors of the establishment, stepping inside to pause with a deep breath. Oh, that was a heavenly smell. Warm and deeply comforting. Familiar. From there she crossed to his booth without hesitation, sliding into a seat like she’d belonged there all along. Mist clung to her hair and she didn’t seem to mind a whit, like wandering around in the rain was something she did everyday. Folding her hands on the table to then curiously lean and peer at the glowing marks of his not-quite-paper contraption.
“Do you not drink and chase women?” she asked, with a quirk of a smile because she already knew the answer to that. It wasn’t meant as anything more than a gentle tease, not a criticism or an expectation.
That look he received was almost worth a broadening grin. For there was no way he could know what she’d do when noticing him behind the glass. For all intents and purposes, she very well could have just walked away. Pretending not to have heard the tapping or even just given him a glare before flipping an obscene gesture.
Instead she just gave him that look. Expressive and controlled. The one that said she owned everything and anything with just a single glance. A powerful, never out of sorts, existence.
It turned a gentle amusement in him. Sure he’d never met anyone thus far that had the same feel.
When she turned to step back towards the entrance, he sorted the booth. Not that it was dirty, but no less he made sure nothing was out of sorts. Merely looking up when she slid in as though she had always belonged. Glimpsing at his game before settling her bright clear eyes on him.
Asking a question that maybe should have stunned him, but hadn’t.
It did make him think. Before softly shaking his head. “I don’t really make a very good playboy.” Blue laughed at himself, “There’s something probably very creepy about a man’s voice in another’s mind trying to ask to buy a lady a drink. Or try a cheesy pickup line.” Shoulders shrugged indifferently, unbothered in the slightest.
Just giving her a gentle consideration, “I can offer to buy a cup of coffee, if you would be comfortable with it. And thanks for coming to sit with me.” the man smiled sweetly, “Hopefully mom was able to make you feel a little more comfortable.”
It had not even occurred to Joslyn that his telepathy would likely send a lady jolting in her own skin, which was funny because it surely had startled her when they first met! She should have known! Which brought in a whole new understand of just why this man seemed to be moving about his life all on his own, when otherwise – at least to her – he seemed like someone that would thrive with good company. Joslyn was a mage, so she adapted to the unusual like it was second nature. Average people? That must feel invasive having someone speaking in your mind, even when it was as gentle as a moonbeam.
She decided not to comment about it, he was already well aware considering he had to live his life like this.
Instead she rest her chin in her hands, reading the meanings behind his words like any scholar would. That insistence that she were comfortable. Thanking her for sitting with him, as if it was an inconvenience to her to sit down be present and get a free drink. Joslyn wondered how often he had a chance to sit with people.
…then she wondered why she was even wondering in the first place! There were so many more important things she needed to be thinking about!
“I cannot yet buy my own drinks, so I will certainly take advantage of you while I can,” she answered with a sudden grin that absolutely spelled out trouble behind it. The sort that suggested she’d be having him buying the drinks even if she did have her own money.
“She is a woman of exceptional character. It seems she cares deeply for you as well,” was her following reply, and for a moment there might have been a flicker of something there. A doubt. A thought. Appearing in an instant and gone just as quick, when she shifted to tilt his little device and see what sort of game he was playing. A word game! …maybe not something she could help tackle, when this realm had such a huge vocabulary of unfamiliar things. Nonetheless, she filed this tidbit of information away about him along with the other silly little details.
There. An easy nod—accepting, understanding, even if he’d clearly noticed her choice of words and the way her lips curled around them. She didn’t hide the fact she was willing to take advantage of kindness. Not cruelly. Just practically.
Fortunately for her, Blue was not the type to mind. He found no reason to bemoan small acts of need, especially when they were spoken honestly. If anything, he seemed quietly content to be of use—his gaze drifting toward the coffee bar’s counter where a pair of clerks were at work.
To anyone unfamiliar, he might’ve seemed to be daydreaming. Staring off into the middle distance. But those who knew him—really knew him—would recognize the expression.
He was speaking. A moment later, one of the clerks caught his eye and lifted a hand, thumb and forefinger forming a silent okay. Blue returned the look with a soft nod and turned back to his cup, fingers finding the handle with easy familiarity.
“They’ll bring it right over,” he offered, setting the mug down gently, “With a few condiments so you can dress it however suits you. I thought it safer to offer variety than guess your taste.”
As he spoke, he turned the unfolded crossword device around so Joslyn could better see the glowing puzzle spread across the surface of the table. It shimmered faintly under the café’s overhead lights, white letters on soft graphite grey, with numbered clues nestled neatly along its edges. He hummed softly—an echo of thought, not quite sound—as if smiling at something internal.
“You’re right, by the way,” he said after a beat. “About mom. I’m incredibly lucky. I know that.” His fingers laced loosely at the wrist, arms folding as he rested more easily into the corner of the booth.
“This is called a crossword. I don’t know if you’ve ever seen one, but it’s a kind of puzzle—thoughtful at the best of times, infuriating at the worst.” The ghost of a grin tugged at his lips, revealing white teeth and a kind of boyish tilt to his smile. “You get clues for each line, horizontal and vertical. It’s simple in theory. I’m terrible at it, of course—but it stretches the brain in ways I appreciate.”
Then, as naturally as breathing, he gestured slightly toward the screen—an open invitation if she wanted to try. Almost on cue, the clerk appeared ready to serve. A fresh mug of coffee was placed on the table alongside a small caddy filled with cream, syrup pearls, pressed sugar tablets, and spice sprinkles. The young man set them down with a practiced hand, his gaze flicking curiously to Joslyn—not in judgment, just quiet surprise.
“I’ll pull it from your banked credits, Blue.”
Blue inclined his head. “Thank you, Dolin. Please take a tip from the account as well.”
Dolin gave a half-shrug and a polite bow between the two of them before slipping back into the bustle behind the counter. The booth grew quiet again—but lightly so. The kind of stillness made richer by background chatter and the hiss of steamed milk somewhere near the back.
Blue turned to look at her directly, expression soft. “Has everything been… alright so far? To your liking, Madam Joslyn?” And then, as though realizing what he’d just said, his expression shifted into a wobbling grimace—nearly a wince, but far too good-natured. Stirring the soundless laugh to follow. “You’ll have to forgive me. I’m not very good at this whole socializing thing. If I say anything strange, please just let me know.“
Naturally her attention to the puzzle was immediate, tapping it a few times just learning how it worked before eyes were scanning down all the clues and examining the formation of the boxes. With a flicker of seaglass eyes glancing up when he mentioned knowing he was lucky to have a mother like Virelya, no shame there, no awkwardness. Just a genuine affection for his parent.
A teeny tiny part of her believed he had that freedom because he was adopted, for blood parents were different beasts entirely. A bitter little piece of her that she didn’t really need to look back on and examine it, for her life could not be compared to another’s.
More interesting was the word puzzle, where she’d poked in three words off the bat by the time the coffee and accoutrement were set on the table. Glancing up to at least give a smile of acknowledgement… seeing that faint, brief streak of surprise on the server’s face and only smiling all the wider. Mysterious, even, with oh so mischievous intent, whether she realized it or not.
Guests at Blue’s table was not a common occurrence, then.
A fourth word done quick as a whip and then she was at an impasse – to the limit of her knowledge, due to far too many words and history she was unfamiliar with. Still, four words was not bad at all. That should give him a nice head start. Joslyn pushed the thing back in his direction with a single finger, then setting her focus on the arrangement of cafe treats she’d been presented with.
“You have been an interesting blend of formal and casual, to which is not a problem for myself as I am in fact a Lady and should be treated with a certain level of respectability. I’d not say that you are having difficulties, though? Maybe I am biased because I threatened to kill you and you were quite passive about it, but I find you almost uncomfortably pleasant. Endearingly unproblematic when I am used to conversations being a battle of will and wit.”
Through this entire declaration Joslyn was taste testing each of the vials set before her, cream to pearls, to sugar, and sprinkles. Only then did she start on creating her own preferred blend. A little cream first, a drop of the sugar. A testing sip. A few syrupy pearls and a sprinkle of spice with a little stir and a taptap of her spoon. Another sip followed by a satisfied hum.
It was probably for the best that he couldn’t read minds.
Not only would it be an uncomfortable invasion of privacy—far beyond his already peculiar gift of speaking directly into someone’s thoughts—but he imagined it would feel downright ghastly. To hear people unfiltered, to know what they hadn’t chosen to say aloud… That was never something he wanted. He already learned more than enough from simply listening.
Besides, if he had been able to read thoughts, he might’ve realized that some of the regulars in the coffee bar were already whispering to each other. Not about Joslyn, not really—not yet. No, the surprise was that Blue had company at all.
It wasn’t Celes, after all. That much was obvious.
Still, he appreciated that Dolin had brought her coffee as requested, and that Joslyn, in turn, had handed the crossword back with four lines filled in expertly—a small, but revealing triumph that told him two things.
One: he was, in fact, terrible at crosswords.
Two: Joslyn was clearly brilliant.
It wasn’t why he felt the brief hitch of awkwardness, though. That discomfort came from his own admission—a quiet confession that he wasn’t all that socially skilled, that sometimes he said things in the wrong way or offered help where none was wanted.
He liked people. Loved listening. But being present was easier than being clever.
And here was Joslyn. Poised, self-assured. Confident enough to refer to herself as a lady and speak as if respect was owed simply by nature of who she was. A behaviour that might’ve felt pompous on anyone else, but on her—a declaration that truly did declare, she had a self importance that likely was above everyone else. He wasn’t sure yet if she considered others inferior or not?
Blue didn’t begrudge it. He never did. People were allowed to carry their importance however they needed. So long as they weren’t cruel.
Still, to be called “uncomfortably pleasant” and “endearingly unproblematic”?
He blinked once. Slowly. The way someone might if you told them the rain was lovely just as lightning took out a tree next to them. He watched her choose from the coffee condiments—tasting, testing, selecting her preferences like a noblewoman choosing silks—and took the moment to reflect. What she said… it wasn’t mean. It was just her. Her thoughts. And she was entitled to them.
“I’ll be mindful,” he said softly, “For any future interactions, if given.” Earnest. Unbothered. The words weren’t said with hurt or sarcasm. Just the simple grace of someone who genuinely meant it. He smiled—still—and turned the crossword puzzle back around, his fingers resting at the edge of the display as he studied the clues she’d completed. Thinking. Quiet. But not idle.
And then, like someone putting down a rook in a chess match not to win, but just to see the board better, he asked— “What was your work like—before all this? Before you were fighting the demon?” The question was steady. Curious. Thoughtful, but not indulgent. A gentle invitation figuring out somewhere that she was likely a person that preferred to talk about herself, her work. Her. “You mentioned your Order. You must have been important to them. Respected?” He didn’t lean in. Didn’t pry. Just waited—open, sincere—willing to hear her world as she chose to tell it.
“You do not need to adjust yourself for those who are naught but a leaf in the wind of your life,” she told him with a soft laugh, wiggling are fingers as if to demonstrate that very fluttering leaf. “You make me uneasy, but it’s not because you are you. It’s because I am me. I am not used to gentle behaviors.”
Maybe it was downright rude to tell him straight to his face that he made her uncomfortable, especially considering there was nothing he could do it about it. This was a sensation that was coming from somewhere deep inside herself, for reasons unknown. Simply, she didn’t have time for mincing words and wasting her energy on things. She wasn’t going to pretend to like someone if she didn’t, nor was she going to behave all weird and squirrely around him without at least giving him the decency of knowing why. Even if that why was a small as her just… not knowing what to do with kindness.
He’d ask about her life before that moment of fighting the beast – a moment that was not a few hours ago, surely – and yet now it already felt like an entire lifetime away. Prior to that oh so dramatic moment, Joslyn wasn’t sure her life of books and studying would be all that interesting of a tale, even if she took a lot pride in her accomplishments.
Then he’d mentioned the Order, assuming that she was someone respected and there was an unintended expression from her. That soft dubious wrinkling of her nose and faint air of frustrated annoyance. Not aimed in his direction in the slightest, just… feelings were tricky sometimes.
“Most of my time at the order was spent studying and practicing my craft. That is hours upon hours of reading, and then putting what you learn to practice. In the Order I was… Well. I am a prodigy. I learn quickly and have ambition, and such a combination does not make you many friends. I was respected enough to be given title of Master, while they’d whisper there goes the hurricane when they thought I wasn’t listening. Others do not appreciate clever mages surpassing them, and most especially do not like being proven wrong. It does not really matter, but frustrating at times.”
Well. That was good to know.
A first, really—at least to his face. He was fairly sure others had felt the same before. Maybe not exactly in those words, but similar in meaning. Joslyn, though… she had the courage to say it out loud. That he made her uneasy. Not because of anything he’d done, but simply because of who he was. His presence. The shape of him in her space. It wasn’t something that meshed well, he supposed.
He wouldn’t argue it. Wouldn’t even be offended.
But it did mean, at least for him, that after this—no more invitations. No gentle gestures she might only accept out of politeness. No looks across rooms or motions to join. He would take this night for what it was: a lesson in not imposing where you are not wanted. And that alone would be a thing that he could give in return. Not to further impose where he’d prickle at her nerves like a bad sound. While he would never consider himself particularly intelligent -just smart enough to know the circle object went into the circle hole- he did know how not to be an annoying pest.
Still, she answered his question.
She spoke of the Order, her place in it. A prodigy, she’d said. And ambitious. Not the kind of person who made friends easily—but one who was respected, even if spoken not terribly favoured in hushed tones. Even Blue, with all his quiet gentleness, knew what that meant.
Every story had three sides: hers, theirs, and the truth in between.
But he didn’t need the whole truth to listen. He nodded slightly to show he’d heard her—understood enough, at least not to press. His fingers found the warm handle of his mug again. He sipped. Thoughtful. Maybe a bit hesitant now, and certainly careful. She was someone who liked to speak of herself. And he wanted to give her that—not out of flattery, but respect. But how to ask? How to not feel like he was dancing along the edge of something too easily tipped into insult?
The silence grew awkward. Just a little. Enough to stir him into action. “Thank you for sharing.” The words were soft. Completely heartfelt. Nothing in them pressed. And then, with a breath drawn quietly through his nose, he dared one more question.
“What drew you to magic in the first place?” His eyes remained on her. Open and curious. “Was it something you were born into? Or something you chose for yourself?” The warmth in his tone made it clear: it wasn’t a challenge. It was honest interest because to him, her world was fascinating and new! Different but unreachable to just read about casually.
There was a strange lingering, awkward silence and at first Joslyn assumed it was her own. Her place in the Sidus Order always did come with a bunch of complicated feelings, and even if she did take insult sometimes to being referred to as a hurricane, how could she deny that she had a tempest of a personality? Joslyn didn’t set out to trample others. It wasn’t her intention to hurt feelings. The whole of her was just abrasive, combative. Placing herself first, as no one else was going to do it. She was never cruel, though, and never deliberately tried to hurt someone unless they were asking for it. Nor did she ever feel need to feel bad about it.
Yet here she was, feeling that slight bit of regret that maybe she was too candid with him. Joslyn had known very quickly he was someone soft of soul, she ought to choose her words a little more carefully.
This was going to be tricky. Much in the same way she did not know how to accept kindnesses with the correct amount of grace, she also did not exactly know how to be nice without seeming disingenuous. Pretend. That horrible, fake pleasant voice so many people used when they were being patronizing and condescending.
So she leaned a little closer to at least show she was invested in this conversation, a willing participant. Not afraid to be close and listen, or to speak. Trying to match that warmth he always seemed to give with aura, with her own dead earnest attempt of returning it.
“I have magic in my blood but it did not manifest within me until necessity struck.” She gestured faintly with a finger towards the line of scar across his neck, likely the reason he could only use telepathy now, even if he’d been born with it. “I have marks like that and I wish I could say it was from a war because at least it would have been from something I stood for. Instead I was born into a life that looked charmed on the surface and was cursed underneath. Then there came a day where it was do or die – so I did.”
It was more vague than it was telling… part of it was because these things were not something you just shared with a man you met only hours ago. Most of it was that she was afraid she’d flat out terrorize him. He could not be so calm and understanding about everything, and the truth about Joslyn was that she was a killer. A killer without regret.
Joslyn pause there to give a quick glance around at all the patrons in the small shop, still only half full so there was no a big bustling crowd. It was quiet enough. A foxlike squint followed and a pursing of her mouth when she reached out to take his hand and turn it palm up. Shielding it carefully with her other so that no one in the place was liable to see what she was up to.
With the lightest tap of her finger she pulled out a teeny tiny spark and let it hover there above his palm. A sparkling star the size of a pinprick.
“We’re all made up of those, you know. Billions of little sparks. It’s why you feel tingly when you hug someone and why there is magnetism between soulmates. That’s my natural magic. The lightning that makes us living.”
Magic in her blood. Something that had remained dormant until a moment of desperation—when need carved open the door. She bore scars from it, she said. Whether they were physical or not, Blue didn’t ask. He didn’t flinch either. His gaze didn’t flick away in discomfort, nor did his expression tighten in the way others might when confronted with the intimate proof of someone else’s pain.
He just smiled. Steady, gentle. The kind of look that didn’t shy away from people, even when they tried to hide the parts of themselves that were jagged.
She spoke of necessity. Of power born from survival. Of being misunderstood, misjudged. There was something heavy in her voice, though she kept the details vague.
And maybe she didn’t expect him to remain so calm. So unfazed. But Blue had never once assumed the universe to be simple. He believed in differences. In unexplainables. In extraordinary things living quietly in the everyday. And she—Joslyn—was simply one of those extraordinary things.
When her fingers reached across the table and turned his palm upward, he didn’t resist. There was no suspicion. Just a soft tilt of his head, curiosity writ plain in the brightness of his eyes.
And then, she summoned it: a spark. A pinprick of living light, hovering above his hand like a star caught between breaths. Blue stared, astonishment didn’t twist his features—it softened them. As if wonder could be worn like a shawl. He took it in, breath held as if the moment itself might collapse if he exhaled too soon.
She told him it was magic. That it was what lived in everyone. That those sparks were why you tingled when someone hugged you, why soulmates felt pulled toward each other. It wasn’t nerves, she said. It wasn’t chemistry.
It was lightning. It was life.
And while he might have known—anatomically—that what she described could be explained by mechanoreceptors and electrical impulses, that skin and pressure and oxytocin made the body respond with tingles and shivers, he didn’t correct her. Because maybe both things were true.
Maybe it didn’t need to be magic to be sacred. He looked at the light again. Flexed his fingers gently. Let the wonder sit where it belonged—in his chest. “I didn’t know that,” he said finally, voice hushed and sincere. Not disbelief. Not dismissal. Just quiet acceptance.
Then, after a pause, his thoughts brushed softly into hers—words shaped not by sound, but presence. “You’re not just impressive, Joslyn. You’re formidable. And you’re a very amazing person.” There was no awe in his voice to flatter her. Only truth. And the deep, unobtrusive respect of someone who saw everything she was trying to carry, even if she didn’t say it aloud.
Once it was safe to do so, he gently withdrew his hand. No rush. No awkwardness. Just the smallest, lingering curl of fingers that had known warmth and wonder and chosen, still, to smile. “Thanks for showing me, you didn’t need too. But I appreciate it. That was special.” he added. And he meant it. Every word.
For a moment there was her full and honest smile, broad and proud. Preening with pure joy that she’d gotten to show him something new in this great big realm of his where so much was far beyond her understanding. That she could share something perfectly unique and spectacular in only the way that she could.
Then he did that awful thing again, where he spoke with such a simple genuine truth. Said things she knew to be true and would scream from the rooftops gladly, that was indeed impressive and all manner of amazing. Only when he said it, it made her insides turn inside out and that damnable embarrassed flush crawl it’s way up her neck and into her cheeks, to have even her ears burning. Just to hear it. How could something be so welcomed to hear, and still feel so wholly undeserved just because one soft and silly man said it!
“Of course I am,” she said, having to fight back the urge to refuse these compliments. Or point out that it was strange, or weird, or potentially hurt his feelings or discourage him from continuing to be someone who was kind. Reaching for her cup to wrap her hands around to immediately take a large swallow. Giving herself the time to scramble for anything that she could blabber out to throw focus away from herself.
“Your mother said she found you in a turnip cart,” she adeptly shifted subject. “I believed her for a good minute before I saw the twinkle in her eyes. Is it safe to ask where you yourself came from? You don’t have to tell me, if you don’t wish to.”
A soft chuckle lifted from him. Because of course she was. Naturally. That wasn’t flattery; it was just fact. Like saying the sky was blue or gravity pulled down. She gave no grand thanks. Only the satisfied hum of someone who already knew.
He didn’t mind. Honestly, it made him smile. She wore pride like a perfectly tailored robe.
Blue picked up his mug again, sipping through the last of the heat while trying to think of another subject she might like to hold court over. But before he could offer one, she mentioned Virelya’s story—the turnip cart tale.
That drew a proper boyish giggle from him. “Oh, that’s a new one,” he grinned, muffling the sound against the rim of the mug. “I’ll have to compliment her later. She’s expanding the legend.”
He set the cup down again, letting it roll lightly along its base across the tabletop. The motion was idle, thoughtful. Then his eyes dropped briefly to the surface of the coffee, expression softening—not solemn, not sad. Just honest.
“Mom was a midwife for many years. She delivered me from my birth mother. Right here on Aelora. Little village, out past the southern ridge.” He let the words sit. The blue in his eyes deepened faintly, reflective as still water. “I cried too much as a newborn,” he said quietly. “She dug me out of the trash.” It was said as simply as a weather report. No anger. No bitterness. Just… fact. A small shrug followed, and then a smile that should’ve been out of place but somehow wasn’t.
He didn’t explain the rest. Didn’t need to.
The scar on his throat had never come from war. Not in the way most understood it. It came from someone else’s breaking point. A woman who’d been overwhelmed by life’s tide and had drowned with a child in her arms.
Only he’d survived.
And Virelya—goddess, ghost, guardian that she was—had reached into the wreckage and pulled him free.
He offered another light laugh, breaking the pause like sunlight through fog. “So no turnip cart. But that does sound whimsical. I wonder how fun that would be.” Lips pulled into a faint grin, curling his fingers once around the now-empty mug. “Guess I’ll add it to my bucket list.”
It seemed Virelya was a mischief maker and story teller, one who took joy in spinning tales around how she’d adopted her child into her life. Joslyn was glad for that too, as it meant he’d had a parent who wanted him and loved him. A blessing to be certain that he could sit here and chuckle about it.
The truth, though? That made her pause, seaglass eyes going wide for a moment in a simple blink. It wasn’t horror that crossed her features, though, nor was it even shock. Not sympathy or even discomfort. The way her eyes looked him over and her mouth twist ever a slightly to the side – that was a look of deep understanding of something most never ever had to experience.
To jump through a rift and land on his ship, of all the places in his realm. Joslyn could’ve been lost to space, landed on a different world, a different ship. But it’d been his.
In her world they would call that fate.
Most would have only seen the surface of his words. That his mother hand abandoned him. They’d not have heard the unspoken in the way he swallowed. The subtly in the words that he cried too much when he bore such a scar across his throat. A cruelty given to him by the one who should have loved him… and here he sat as someone so shaped by that one moment in ways he likely didn’t realize.
“Then we have one very grizzly thing in common,” she finally spoke, still a bit marveled by it. Marveled by he himself, for here he was this gentle soul able to still give softness to the world. Maybe Virelya was to thank for that. “She tried to drown me. My mother. I was no wee babe, though. She might have lived if I were, and yet I am glad that she didn’t. Sometimes I wish I had someone like Virelya, but I suppose if I had, then I would not have had the chance to meet you.”
Truthfully, once upon a time, the tale bothered him. So severely that if asked for the truth, he’d pretend he didn’t hear the question. It was likely one of the reasons his adoptive parent had started telling wild tales such as finding him in a turnip cart. A thin attempt to spare him from the reliving recollection that a person that bore him had been so overwhelmed, that she snapped. It happened. There were enough stories of birth mothers that couldn’t take it. Some that were able to get help. Some who didn’t.
Virelya had explained it professionally as a midwife. Knowing how post partem really was a hard thing to go through. Unfortunately for him, the birth mother hadn’t gotten the help she needed. And he had been lucky that Virelya had grand timing to both find him buried in the trash like yesterday’s garbage to keep him alive. Just forever voiceless in the typical sense.
He had many great other things that now, he didn’t feel upset about the truth. Merely understanding that these things happened and Elessa had been unwell.
There was no searching for sympathy from Joslyn. She’d asked, he told. An exchange of information is all it was.
However, he was certainly more emotive when the brilliant prodigy suddenly seemed to tag on to the story of truth. To find alignment in it that she spoke of similarity. Her mother attempted to drown her. Older than an infant.
There wasn’t a need for deep details. He understood. This had been her means of necessity previously spoken about. The reply of stormy magic that was amplified he guessed by the conduction of water. The woman that was Joslyn’s mother had died because of both her cruelty and Joslyn’s survival instinct. One couldn’t judge such things honestly. Doubly so when one wasn’t the one who had gone through such a fight.
When ones drive for survival was strong enough, it would do everything possible to live. Joslyn’s was stronger than the will of a mother who was trying to kill that of child. Honestly he preferred his own truth. At least he wasn’t truly cognizant as Joslyn was. He didn’t know any differently. She did.
His features weren’t judgemental. They weren’t even sad or horrified by this reveal. Just easy understanding. Of course he was a tender hearted person, but he understood the need, the will, the desire to fight.
So? So Blue gave his head a tip. A soundless motion that he appreciated her honestly but held no ill will or delusion about her. A silent, you did what you had to.
Leaving more of a voiceless statement of, “I’m glad that meeting each other is of good chance rather than not. Now you have a bunch of new worlds to learn about and add to your ability of being amazing.”
Generally when one admitted they killed their own parent, there was a wild serious of facial expressions followed by a whole bunch of questions and accusations. Even in her own realm, when disasters of awakening magic could be a common thing, if you did not carry this brooding weight of guilt with you, people considered you callous and even villainous. Especially about a parent that ‘gave her life’. Well, those people did not know the life she lived, and while the death had not been intentional, Joslyn was glad the woman died. If that made her a villain, so be it.
This man, though? Beyon Vayne of the casual name Blue. Who faced a threatening intruder with a calm that was bewildering. Who helped a stranger with a wild tale not having a second though about it. Someone gentle of heart and pure of soul, did not even blink. There was no judgement or fear in his eyes, no sense that he now felt her something to be wary of. Only acceptance.
And she smiled, free of that usual elegant poise that was oh so practiced. Something cheery and almost giggly with a scrunch of her shoulders and a soft laughing breath before those seaglass eyes were turning down towards her mug and pulling it close to have another swallow.
“You are truly some remarkable,” she said simply, no airs, just truth. “Sometimes one can discover extraordinary things when they get a little lost. I was worried that I might have made a poor decision to come through the rift, but I am thinking now that I might enjoy it.”
It would’ve been natural—expected even—for someone to flinch at her words. To recoil at the thought of survival bought in blood. But Blue only sat quietly, not a single line in his expression twitching with judgment.
He didn’t react with horror. He reacted with understanding.
Because what good would pearl-clutching do? What justice lived in pointing fingers when you didn’t know the storm someone else had stood in? Whatever had happened to her—whatever she’d done—he understood this much: It wasn’t his history. He wasn’t there! And if he wasn’t there, he had no business making himself the narrator of someone else’s worst day.
The paper crossword, still unfurled like a map of forgotten thoughts, was folded neatly with the grace of practiced fingers. Compacting itself with each smooth press of palm, it was soon returned to the pocket of his coat—no different than someone tucking away a memory, handled with care.
Then she said it—that he was remarkable. And he blinked. Once. Twice. As if uncertain whether she meant it. As if the word didn’t quite belong to him, though he held it gently in his hands anyway.
Still, the corner of his mouth pulled faintly, and there it was again—not just sweetness, but curiosity. Joslyn wasn’t just the cold brilliance she projected. That grin of hers—it wasn’t noble or regal or practiced. It was human, and terribly adorable. It made her real in a way she might not have intended.
With the folded game tucked away, Blue paused to consider her words, her admission, her fire. Then his voice came softly—without flattery, and without comfort. Just truth, spoken like a steady flame that didn’t flicker, even under wind: “You’re on a vital mission no one’s ever done before.” He tilted his head, thoughtful. “I don’t think that could ever be a poor decision. No matter how or why you came through the rift. It’s noble.” A beat passed between. “It’s selfless.” The nod he gave was small but solid, like a post driven into earth.
Then, a quiet hum—a tone that warmed like tea on a grey day. “And if you enjoy learning, well… there’s much here to uncover. You’ll be brilliant at it.” His smile returned. “All while being heroic in helping your world rid itself of a living disaster.” The way he said it—”that demon”—wasn’t mocking. He already believed she’d win.
“Noble and brilliant indeed… though, not selfless.” She said this with that quirk of a smile, something mischievous and youthful, like a sibling that knew they were being a pain in the rear and weren’t the least bit sorry about it. Shifting in her seat to rest her elbows on the table and lean forward, glad to move on to chatter about things that were not so full of hurt and gloom.
“I have every intention of going back to say a dozen I told you sos, to accept their begrudging accolades, and preen about a task they could have joined me for but were too cowardly to attempt. And look what wonders I have found! Multiple worlds worth of intrigue, and it will be dangerous for certain, but anything worth doing has come with a little risk, I have noticed.”
Joslyn did pause for a moment, eyes going to the window where the sunset of this world had shifted the colors to even softer hues. Frowning a bit when she tilted to plop her chin in her hand.
“I’ll have to rest to start a new day, I suppose. That’ll be difficult where there is so much to do just to even prepare for proper learning. I’ll have to find a library, get booklets for taking notes. Virelya said not to worry of a place to stay, but that cannot last forever, so I will need to learn a skill that pays money. Most of what I know is magic and world history, only that is history of my world, it won’t do me much help here. …except I don’t wish to do manual labor things, I am not built for labor.”
Maybe it wasn’t entirely selfless.
To the people of her world, Joslyn’s leap through the rift would no doubt be recounted in breathless detail: a lone mage, daring what the others feared. A prodigy who defied the stagnancy of her elders to strike out against a centuries-old plague. She would be praised. And then—quietly—resented. A catch-22, if ever there was one. But not one Blue would ever speak to, even if he understood it. He knew better than to offer sympathy where none was asked for. And Joslyn certainly hadn’t asked.
Instead, he reached for his mug, preparing to return it to the counter like the helpful creature he was. His gaze landed on her again just as she commented while the fading light outside gave life to the glow of lamps flickering on through Morrow’s Hollow. Sending the day into evening.
She was already thinking ahead. Calculating what she’d need to study, what tools would keep her sharp. What would maintain her edge in a world that didn’t yet know her name. Blue hesitated a moment. His lips parted, as if to say something grand. They didn’t. Instead, they curved with thoughtful calm.
“There’s a library in town,” he offered. “Small one. Doubles as a research facility.” There was a subtle note to his voice. Like the information carried a footnote—something important but left gently unsaid. “The head librarian is Celes Anivare. But she’s away right now. Genvare colony. So the place is closed until she returns.”
He stepped out from the booth fully now, rising with easy grace. A pillar of soft presence and practical consideration. “When she’s back, I’m sure Mom could introduce you. Celes would love what you’re doing. And…” he paused, smiling faintly, “She’s always open to someone helping with the archives. No heavy lifting. Just good old-fashioned research.“
Any town worth being called a town would have a library, but she wisely kept that quip to herself as to not trample upon someone that she decided should be treated with a special amount of care. What caught her by surprise was that it was also a place of dedicated research.
“There are jobs for researching? Paid ones?” Of course that caught her attention immediately, for who could’ve thought there was the most perfect job in the world for her! Granted, life in the conclave had been like a job, and she knew of universities and academies where people took the knowledge they studied and then turned around to teach it to others. But she hadn’t though there were dedicated specifically to the work of gathering and collecting all of that information from limitless tomes and scrolls.
Joslyn had achieved her dream of becoming a Master, mostly just out of necessity, but she had so much more life to live. So much more she could do if aimed in the right directions.
Through this new discovery she almost missed that subtle hidden something in his spoken voice. If he had said the words out loud, surely it would’ve slipped right passed her never to be noticed at all. Only with his voice gently spoken in her head and the way his aura felt so strongly present, it was like having this secret window of peering at feelings unsaid.
What it meant, though? Joslyn was not sure now was the time to ask. He’d already revealed one hard thing today, just because she was curious didn’t mean she should start being nosy and hammering down into his business simply because she didn’t know when to stop snooping.
“Then that is what I will do,” she agreed easily. “I’ll be a library researcher until I’ve gathered enough information to travel without stirring up any undue trouble.”
“I think so?” Blue replied, his head tilting with the honesty of someone who didn’t pretend to know what he didn’t. “Celes pays people for their tasks, far as I know. But I don’t work at the library myself, so… I can’t promise it.”
Though, quietly, he had no doubt: if Joslyn told Celes even a fraction of what she was doing, that curious little whirlwind of a librarian would find a way to not only help, but pay her for the honour of doing so.
If she’d caught the subtle tone in his earlier mention—something knowing, something gently fond—it wasn’t a secret. Celes Anivare wasn’t a mystery lover, a secret sister, or anything scandalous. She was simply his best friend. Had been since childhood. Since long before Joslyn and her lightning had ever graced this part of the galaxy.
It was Celes who called him “Blue” first, in fact. And it had stuck. He smiled now, soft and certain. “I’m sure you’ll be amazing at that too. You and Celes will get along certainly.” A brief pause. “Well,” he added, eyes dancing a little, “As long as you don’t mind answering ten thousand questions.”
Because Celes would ask them. Curious as a kitten and twice as fast. “I think she’s supposed to be back soon,” he went on, picking up his mug again. “Though what she’s bringing back with her… that’s always a surprise. But you’ll know she’s in town even without Mom telling you. She’ll show up at the hotel.“
He held a hand level with his chest. “She’s about this tall. Short blond hair. Big colourful glasses. Talks a lot. Great storyteller.” He didn’t say it aloud, but it lived in his expression: She was my voice when I didn’t have one. A pause stretched—quiet, easy. Then his head tilted again, gaze gentle as ever.
“Is there any particular research you’d want to do?” he asked, motioning with a nod that he was heading to return his cup. “I’m just curious.” The question was light, but sincere. Like everything about him: low pressure, high presence.
Joslyn was already plotting on how she could best make use of her time as a paid researcher. She was ever so good at collecting information, and if there was a little coffee tavern right here within easy distance, she could stay up for ages cramming down piles and piles of notes!
This Celes, though. Every time he said her name it was with such a deep fondness. Was that the subtle note she heard? An important lady in his life that he spoke with reverence about, who also seemed to have a good relationship with his mother? She decided in an instant that had to be affectionate love. Perhaps one he longed for, that he hadn’t had the courage to speak up to, when he was such a gentle thing. Maybe simply didn’t have the chance if the woman was a traveling researching.
That smile that crept along her face was so mysteriously pleased. Joslyn would help, then. Because he had helped guide her into the right direction, then it was only fair that she helped him as well. She’d weave a nice little web of romance for the pairing so they could finally make that connection. At the very least she could sing his praises, so his small lady (that from the gesture was likely just as short as herself) would realize the love she’d been waiting for was right there all along.
Joslyn was a genius, after all, she could use her gifts for things beyond magic.
“I hope she is prepared for as many questions to be asked. I’m bound to have more to ask than she can answer.” As for what specifically she would want to study? There was that wry turn of her smile and a shrug of her shoulders. “Magic always. But in this case, I might just need to start with the common vernacular so I can actually understand all of the content I am going to be reading.”
This might have actually been a stroke of rare, true luck. Joslyn had no idea—not yet anyway—but if anyone was born to handle a prodigious, sharp-tongued lightning mage with a touch of grandeur, it was Celes Anivare.
Everyone in Morrow’s Hollow knew Celes for what she was: curious to a fault. The kind of woman who asked ten questions just to answer one, and then circled back with twenty more. Blue could only chuckle softly at the thought. They might be exactly what the other needed. Both scholars. Both wildly intelligent. Where Joslyn wielded magic with precision and pride, Celes spun logic and wonder like twin threads. She’d devour theories on ley-lines and arcane constructs like sweet bread. She lived for the unknown. And more than that—she wasn’t afraid to chase it.
“Common vernacular?” Blue repeated with a wry lilt, not mocking but honest. “Better question for someone less dense than me.” He said it with the kind of humour that came from self-awareness, not self-deprecation. With the comfort of a man who didn’t need to prove his cleverness to anyone.
Reaching the counter, he set down his empty mug, nodding to Dolin and the others as they offered their customary goodbyes. They had, of course, taken his cup as the sign he was leaving. They weren’t wrong.
Straightening his coat collar, Blue turned back to her. “Starting with language makes sense,” he said, voice warm. “I hope it’s everything you want it to be, Madam Joslyn.” Then, as was proper—and as she had reminded him she preferred—he dipped his head in that old, courtly way she seemed to admire. “Goodnight. And good luck with the challenges ahead.”
His smile was soft. “You’ll meet them well.” And just like that, he turned, the bell above the café door jingling faintly as it closed behind him.
“Common as in most widely used, not common as in a commoner,” she corrected, even with a lift of her finger. Just in case there might have needed to be a distinction. But as he was taking his mug away to set on the counter for the clerks to deal with (he seemed to like to make things easier for others, she’d noticed), he bid her well wishes and a goodnight. Complete with the slightest of dip that could have almost even passed a courtly goodbye.
Her grin was immediate. What a silly and delightfully charming thing to do.
“Goodnight Beyon Vayne~!” she chirped as she turned back to her own drink. Still grinning when the door closed and she took another sip.
Maybe she was a singular one within this realm, but unlike the conclave where mages all saw her as a threat and a competitor, here…? She was a no one in the most perfect of ways. While it was going to be difficult starting behind everyone else in terms of what she knew, Joslyn would catch up. And when she surpassed them, who was going to care? There were millions of worlds and thousands of cultures! Joslyn was but another star in the sky! Something beautiful in her own right, and not even a little bit special!
Something about that was kind of freeing. Like a weight being pulled from her shoulders.
…except for her mission, of course. Joslyn would not forget her mission, in fact, this newfound freedom was going to allow her to pursue it in ways she’d never have dreamed. They’d said the demon she was hunting was potentially a creature of pure myth and legend here. She wouldn’t doubt it. How easy it would be to hide and get lost amongst so many worlds.
After savoring her drink in this quaint little place, she felt it best to head back to the hotel. Tomorrow was going to be a new day in a new life.
Where she would begin her journey of going from Master of the Arcane, to Master of the Rift.