finalflight | THIS IS JUST A PSL NOW I GUESS;

[What someone wants is quite unfortunately, and very often, the exactly opposite of what someone needs. Given Weir's demeanor and the sort of town that shaped itself around him, so contrasted with each other, one might be able to draw this conclusion on their own.

But good luck broaching that subject with him anytime soon.]

Ah, running off already? Not quite yet. [He stops his sharpening and waggles his dagger's hilt at her, and the gesture is casual, meant to indicate more than to actually threaten.] So you've decided to remain here despite what you've learned? Is that what I'm to take from this?

[With a small "Hm?" she pauses mid-step to take in his question.]

... I'll stay here for a little while but. Not much longer.

[After everything that's happened between them and what she knows now of Weir, anger and resentment ought to be inevitable. That's what a normal person should feel and act upon accordingly.

But she doesn't harbor hatred in her heart. She never even hated her own parents who now live, oblivious to her existence and their sin against her. Lucinda doesn't even hold anything against any enemies she's made over the years while working with the Collective. Being hated for enforcing the rules and exerting strength was unavoidable.

If she let herself overflow, she would drown. It had nearly happened in the forest. It was better to let her emotions be lackluster.]

We'll see what happens at the end of the week. I can gather information, prepare, and follow the merchants.

[And she'll shut the door on her memories with Weir, just like she has with the ones in Vietnam.]

[To him, she all but takes everything in so much stride. But there's plenty working in her mind, plenty she must be thinking but never says. Much kept close to the heart. In that way, they're alike, but that doesn't stop his questioning tone.]

You're going to follow the merchants? Out past the Vale?

[Back and forth they go, to the city and beyond and back. A routine unerring every few months or so.]

And what? Remain in the city?

As I said, we'll see.

[Lucinda leans against the wall, thinking.]

I need to know what they know of the city and make arrangements based on their information. From there on out, I'll have to look after myself.

[No Collective or any connections; just her and three ghosts under the skin.]

I'll see what I can carve out. If nothing else I can always find my way back as well.

[Will you be able to find your way back, Lucinda. That's a good thing to ponder.

Weir doesn't reply immediately, but then finally slides his knife back into the holster he was keeping in his lap.]

If you're hoping for magic to help you, then you'll be disappointed. I told you, no one is capable of powerful magecraft any longer, much less the kind that will send you back to your world.

[It's a good point. Her only counterpoint would be if there's a way the magic from her world could reach here but that's a stretch even when she says it to herself.

But she shrugs; it's a soft sound in the dark.]

I think it's worth taking a look. If anything, my current approach is less, "Get home as fast as possible," and rather... "Let's just see what this place is like." And if my stay is extended, so be it.

[Though she didn't show or express it to Weir, during the first few days in Turner's Vale, Lucinda had felt adrift with no higher power or group to belong to. And it had made her wonder...

What would she do if she wasn't part of the Esper Collective? Was she simply a nobody without anyone to recognize her?

But maybe that wasn't such a bad thing.

She starts to move to her bedroom. ]

"There's such a lot of world to see."

[He won't stop her. If that's her logic, then whether or not he thinks it'll be fruitful is none of his concern. Perhaps she'll stay in the city; live there, for all he cares. She will be beyond his concern, and permanently so.]

Very well. Then you might begin readying your things to leave sooner rather than later. The merchants and their ilk will make their way out of the Vale mere days after the Festival has come to an end.

[Just so she's aware before she drifts off to her bedroom.]

Mm. Noted.

... 𝓗𝓾𝔂𝓮𝓷? 𝓘𝓼 𝓽𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝓪𝓵𝓵 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓱𝓪𝓿𝓮 𝓽𝓸 𝓼𝓪𝔂 𝓽𝓸 𝓱𝓲𝓶?

𝓨𝓸𝓾'𝓻𝓮 𝓼𝓪𝓭.

[Lucinda doesn't respond to Flora and Feather.]

When I make it to the city, I'll make sure to send something interesting back to you.

You hardly need to.

[Ah, unkind. Cold as ever. If he senses his melancholy, he is never the type to try to ease it -- at least, not on a day like this one.]

Sleep now. It's been a long day for you. There's nothing in the morrow for you to tend do, so I'll not be waking you up.

... Yes.

[Soft footsteps move to her sleeping area.

If only Flora could work her magic on this man who has seen the vulnerable and pathetic parts of Lucinda. It was the petty part of her that wanted to hold the knowledge of his wrongdoings over him while he could be left ignorant of her. Weir wanted to be left alone to his easy life, didn't he? Lucinda would be doing him a favor, just like the mercy she showed her mother and father.]

𝓘'𝓶 𝓼𝓸𝓻𝓻𝔂 𝓼𝔀𝓮𝓮𝓽 𝓗𝓾𝔂𝓮𝓷. 𝓘 𝓬𝓪𝓷𝓷𝓸𝓽 𝓶𝓪𝓴𝓮 𝓱𝓲𝓶 𝓯𝓸𝓻𝓰𝓮𝓽.

[They both harbor entangled hearts. Only in the next few days would they know if it becomes strangled even further.]

Good night.

THIS IS JUST A PSL NOW I GUESS;

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