III. Warm Breakfasts
Morning light shimmered into the room, softly casting its fingers across Vahn in an attempt to rouse him and he saw no reason to deny it. At least he wasn’t waking from a fright. A sudden image bright and brilliant despite the dregs of sleep. Reminding him sleep was only a respite from the reality he sought to ignore and made nothing inherently better.
For once, however, it felt like it was truly better and Vahn breathed in deep. The smell of sunshine had gone, leaving the ghost of it against the pillows and sheets, and he blearily opened his eyes. Hawke was not there. Someone had slid a pillow below Vahn’s head in lieu of his chest. The heartbeat Vahn had counted until numbers held no meaning as he’d drifted off in time had gone with it. Honestly, he hadn’t known it would work, but giving him something to focus on that was not everything else in the room was exactly what he’d needed to let go. Yet that very same focus was now absent.
As Vahn propped himself up, searching for the bard, he caught the smell of something delicious wafting from somewhere distant. Roasted coffee beans was the first one Vahn picked out with surety, and then maybe sausage of some kind? Meat. Definitely meat. There was more, all drifting together, and Vahn allowed himself to breathe it in deep as he dropped back to the bed and rolled over.
All rolling over did was remind him of the magician he’d left last night. Carefully hidden behind the screen Vahn moved aside with an outstretched arm. The sun made the crystals sparkle, glinting the light right back into the sky like sunbursts.
“Is that why you sat there?” Vahn asked despite knowing no answer was forthcoming. He lay on his side and faced the magician anyway. “So when you finally went, you were watching the stars? Or perhaps it was the dusk or dawn you sought? Maybe simply the blue of the sky as it rolled by with the world?” He sighed and closed his eyes. “I would have done the same, I think.”
He supposed it was time to get up. Rise with the day, move on somehow. Ignore imagining himself like the crystallized magician, although it was so easy to put himself right there. Where the world he coveted forgot all about him too. They already had, in a way. Crowning a new Wayfarer Magician had been a large ceremony of so many faces he hardly recalled now—it had gone by in a blur because he had admittedly gotten himself a little too drunk to soften the nerves—and after all was said and done and he was down here, no one had tried to contact him. The first month, he’d stayed near a Spire City just in case, but even when he sent postcards up to old friends and acquaintances, none ever came for him. He wandered away when it became evident he was on his own and part of him wished he hadn’t tried.
No one would care for him, just like the magician here. As soon as the thought took hold, however, Vahn ran his hands down his face, groaning. No. That was a lie his fear had weaved together. Citrine was up there and if he literally did disappear, she’d know. Even if she had no way of coming down here herself to find him. Even if she was busy with her actual life with her cozy little shop.
He ached to visit her. Just to talk to someone, especially now in the face of Elwick. His own mortality right here in the room he was trying so hard to ignore. Except he wasn’t supposed to return to the Floating Worlds until his wandering was done and who knew when that would be. His gaze drew back to the crystallized skeleton. That magician had given up right here in this tower.
Maybe the Wayfarer Magician title was a curse.
Vahn sat up sharply, wanting to cease the thoughts running through his mind uninvited, and the act reminded him of all the aches he’d been ignoring from his fight with Elwick. Staying up too late—much too late—hadn’t helped one bit and his back especially protested the way he’d scrunched over all the books that had told him nothing.
Goddess, Vahn wished he had a name so he could call the magician by something other than magician. They deserved that much at least. Maybe if he’d slowed down enough and asked the guards, he wouldn’t feel this way, and there went the thoughts all over again.
The guards. He and Hawke would have to tell them the magician they relied on to fix their magical contraptions was dead. Had been dead for a while. It was a wonder nothing had broken in the interim and no one noticed sooner. Sure, the magician was clearly a hermit with their whole tower being able to satisfy their every need, but still.
Vahn wasn’t even sure if the guards would be able to do anything about the magician’s body or the tower. Everything was too steeped in magic and would be for quite some time. Another magician would be able to do it, but not Vahn. By the time the guards figured out what they wanted to do, he and Hawke would be gone.
Vahn desperately wanted to return to the bliss of waking. He let himself fall back into his pillows and closed his eyes. This was too much thinking already.
The door opened and with the motion came everything that smelled divine from below. Hawke came in, already dressed, with a tray in his hand. He tried to walk quietly all up until he noticed Vahn propped up on his elbows. Then his posture deflated and he gave the magician a lopsided smile of someone caught.
“Ah.” He chuckled. “I meant to wake you up with breakfast. Not have you already awake and ruining the surprise.”
Vahn sat up properly, famished and eager for food. “Oh, fret not! I am fully surprised and willing. Not often I get breakfast in bed.”
It was rather touching, actually, and Vahn couldn’t help but smile as Hawke settled the tray on the bed. The tray even had little legs to stand on its own! Plates held an assortment of breakfast goodies from fluffy eggs, toast smothered in strawberry jam, sausage links glazed with syrup, and a small stack of pancakes. Two cups of coffee sat side-by-side and near them was a small pitcher of cream, a dish of sugar, and a small bottle of syrup. A veritable feast leaving Vahn’s mouth salivating for where to start.
The coffee was as good a place as any.
“Between you and Josie, I think my tea is going to be jealous.” Vahn took a sip. A lighter taste than what Josie had shared with them and this had hints of clementine, reminding him of the sun. “Although, I think I should be treating you, given everything.”
Hawke waved his hand dismissively and reached over for his own cup. “Once having purple eggs was enough for me.”
“Hey!” Vahn laughed, nearly dropping the dish of sugar. “That tasted fine!”
“I couldn’t get magic off my teeth for days!”
Vahn pouted, trying to hide his smile. Cooking was so nebulous to Vahn, he needed a little magical help. So what if it left… lingering aftereffects. It never hurt anyone. At least never hurt Vahn.
Definitely never tasted as good as this. Everything was perfect, the tastes smooth and expected, and Vahn couldn’t help himself as he dug in. As he ate, complimenting the cook between each rather full mouthful (and Hawke did his best to hide his grin, but Vahn caught it enough times to know the compliments had the desired effect), he watched Hawke move about the room. He was collecting books. Odd. Vahn then noticed the small stack on the side table near the couch. Certainly hadn’t been there last night. Even odder still.
Vahn slowed on his next mouthful, letting some of the food settle, and tilted his head. Hawke had grabbed another book, holding it but a moment before he either returned it to the shelf or, like with the next one, added it to the pile.
“Are you dissecting me?” Hawke asked without looking.
Vahn laughed. “Hardly! I’m curious. What have you been up to beyond cooking? I’m surprised I didn’t notice you get up.”
Hawke glanced back and winked. At least he was in good spirits. “I can be sneaky! Trice was a light sleeper.” He added another book to the stack. They were mostly smaller ones, reminding Vahn of journals. “So if I wanted to surprise her with breakfast, I had to learn pretty quick how not to wake her up.”
“You still think very fondly of her, don’t you?” Vahn asked without thinking and disliked how the comment made Hawke’s back tense as he went for another book. “I’m sorry. I won’t pry.” He finished off a pancake and snagged some toast. Strawberry jam was absolutely divine. He hoped Hawke put that jar aside to take with them when they left.
“What are you up to though?”
“Some of the books make noise.” Hawke waved his hand toward the stacked books. Vahn had to concentrate to hear it, but he wasn’t wrong. Soft little trills, especially stacked together. The more he stared too, the more he saw the outline of magic upon the pages, almost gilding them in a multi-color sheen.
“I think they have actual spells in them—I don’t know if you know them yet—and I thought picking them out would be helpful. Less… overwhelming.”
Once more, Vahn was touched. He struggled on words, especially when Hawke grabbed one of the books and brought it over for Vahn to look at. “You… You didn’t have to.”
“I know.” Hawke settled on the bed beside Vahn as he handed the book over. “I’m also sorry for what I said before.”
Vahn paused from opening the book. “What?”
Hawke fiddled with one of the worn bracelets on his wrist. “When I said you didn’t care beyond learning magic. When you went to confront Elwick without me.” He swallowed and exhaled. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. I was wrong.”
Vahn let himself lean back into the pillows to catch Hawke’s gaze. He smiled softly once met and pressed the book to his chest. “You don’t have to apologize. I knew you didn’t mean it. Not deep down. What you’ve done for me now is more than enough apology.”
“Letting you use me as a pillow, you mean?”
Vahn whacked his shoulder with the book, making him laugh. “Yes, but everything else too. You could have just left me to do whatever magician-y thing I was going through, but you didn’t.” He settled the book back in his lap. “You’ve been immensely helpful and I’m glad I am not alone.”
The smile Hawke gave Vahn was so infectious, Vahn had to look away lest it grace his lips too. Turning away, unfortunately, left him open to having his last sausage nabbed and he couldn’t stop Hawke from eating it in time.
“Hey! That was my last one!”
“Aw come on—you weren’t even eating it!”
“I was saving it for last!” Vahn was laughing too hard to really enunciate the words and ended up burying his face in a hand out of the absurdity. Hawke’s laughter joined his and it wasn’t long before a breeze pushed its way inside as though to join them.
Once they had it out of their system and Hawke made away with the tray, leaving Vahn with only his coffee, he settled in to look at the book. Hawke rejoined him against the pillows, leaning over his shoulder, although Vahn wasn’t sure how much of it the bard would understand on his own.
The book was filled with diagrams and incantations—complete with sketches of the proper wand motions—of all sorts of spells, but all of them were suited for battle. Not bad by itself; Vahn had a lack of battle-ready spells. He could do raw power, but anything requiring finesse like a duel wasn’t something he’d quite mastered up there and so, he certainly didn’t have a handle on those spells down here. Hawke seemed perturbed at the idea of battle-ready spells and grabbed more books for Vahn, but many of them detailed similar notations or had nothing inside at all yet, just pages primed for the magician’s ink. Some were even texts too dense for Vahn to read himself or in some cipher only the original magician would know.
Vahn transplanted as many spells as he could understand into his own tome, fattening it up with new pages and bookmarks for what to study in further detail later, and once he’d exhausted all the books Hawke could hear (they were ignoring the ones Hawke couldn’t for the sake of simplicity), Vahn picked out a spell to try.
The magician’s sure and exact script referred to it as the Flame Arrow. Solar spell that worked best with the sun at its zenith. The basics could be applied to about any element and went into exactly how, but Vahn focused on fire for right now as he understood it the easiest out of them all.
“Want to give it a go?” Hawke asked after Vahn had finished explaining it to him in detail. The bard was clearly mystified, but it was endearing he let Vahn talk and talk until he exhausted himself.
“Yes!” Power coursed through Vahn on excitement alone and Hawke quickly stopped him from setting it up.
“Wait—wait! Not inside!”
“I suppose you’d also want me to get dressed...”
“Wouldn’t hurt. Don’t need anyone coming by looking up and getting an eyeful.”
Vahn paused. “Hawke!” he said, louder than he meant to on sheer embarrassment alone, and Hawke jumped. “I do wear underclothes when I sleep!” To prove it, because Hawke was biting his lip to cease his laughter, Vahn lifted up the hem of his shirt to reveal the small shorts covering anything indecent. Hawke barked a laugh and looked, but then immediately turned away again as though the sight was still too much for him.
“I didn’t know that! All I see are legs!”
Vahn dropped his shirt and shook his head. “Honestly!” He turned for his bag to find actual clothes—couldn’t offend the delicate sensibilities of possible passersby with little indecent shorts, after all—and a teasing smile worked across his lips. “Would you prefer it the other way, then?”
The flush came to Hawke’s cheeks so fast, reaching even his ears, and he walked away as though pretending he hadn’t heard that. Fair enough. Vahn snickered to himself and headed into the bathroom with his clothes to get properly dressed.
After that detour, he was out on the balcony. Maybe he didn’t need to balance on the balcony railing and maybe he could have done it safely from the ground, but he felt bold today, greeting the morning as the sun reached its highest point above the tower. Sunshine pressed against his skin and he breathed it in as deep as he could to fill his bones. Hawke stayed behind him—much less flustered—and looked ready to catch Vahn should he fall. Endearing, but Vahn ignored him so he could focus.
The sun’s heat ghosted across Vahn entirely, especially his arms. He knew the sun. The way it wove itself through the sky to bring light. And he knew it required devotion above all to cast. He raised his arms, one outstretched fully as though holding a bow, and had the other with fingers flexed to grasp unseen end. Air kissed Vahn’s fingers, insistent, and he realized it wanted him to readjust the way he held himself. His hands molded into the position the air wanted him in and the sensation ceased, allowing the spell to bloom in his mind. Magic raced through his body in preparation and he guided it into his fingertips to bring life to the spell aching to be cast.
“Oh sun, I command thee to form thy fire”—the magic ignited as flames licking his fingertips—”and fly true as an arrow of flame!”
He drew one hand back and in the space between, fire raced across the air. It shaped itself into a sparkling arrowhead first and then came the shaft and fletching. The trail of fire grew brighter the more Vahn pushed power into it and before long, the tips of his fingers began to burn. He released it and the arrow chased into the sky as far as it could on Vahn’s power alone until it dissipated, becoming twinkling embers against the sun.
“Wow,” Hawke said and shielded his eyes so he could look up at the sun. Not the brightest move, but Vahn didn’t blame him for trying. “Look at that go.”
Vahn smiled. “I think I could do real damage with it.” He let Hawke help him down, being just a little lightheaded from the exertion. Not the falling over of last night, at least. “Next time we’re in trouble, I’ll use it.”
“As long as we aren’t in the woods.” Hawke paused and grimaced. “Or inside. Or near anything flammable—you know, maybe—”
Vahn shoved him, laughing. “I will make it useful and I won’t burn us to a crisp in the process! Trust me, Hawke!”
Hawke grinned, clearly knowing he was being difficult on purpose, and Vahn shook his head in exasperation as he came back inside.
“Gather what you think is useful,” Hawke said and nodded toward the door leading back down. “I’m gonna hike back and let the guards know about all this. Stay here.”
Before Vahn could suggest he come with, he was alone again. Hawke’s footsteps reverberated through the tower as he went down, becoming softer and softer until they had gone altogether. Vahn wasn’t quite ready to be as alone as he suddenly was, despite all the smiles and weightlessness of new spells, and it led him to peering at the magician once more.
He shouldn’t have. He’d been doing his best to ignore the obvious, but there they were still. The silent magician. Vahn touched his hands where the ghost of the air had kissed during the spell. Maybe it was in his head, but it would be remiss of him not to at least thank the magician for all they’d done.
“Thank you,” he said quietly. “I’m sorry I cannot do more for you at present.” He paused and glanced at the tome of spells still on the bed. He retrieved it, curious, and watched as letters glimmered across the cover. They folded out of the leather in a deliberate sequence, and when it all faded, Vahn smiled. It was the magician’s name—it had to be. “Maxima, huh?” Vahn glanced back at the unmoving body. “I like that name. I’ll remember it.”
A soft breeze took the magic away, dispersing it into the air around the tower. All the while, the skeleton continued twinkling against the sunshine. Little stars bursting into colors.
Though the draw to spend another day and night here occurred to Vahn, he shook his head and continued through the room. Staying would lead to obsession and magicians were woefully predisposed to it. Better to depart and cease disturbing Maxima’s tomb. They’d chosen to die here for a reason and Vahn would let it be.
As he waited for Hawke, he grabbed all the books he thought were interesting and the ones Hawke had already grabbed, and assigned each one a magical moniker before slipping it into his bag. Calling forth the books with “bring me the spell book!” would be disastrous given how many books Vahn already had somewhere in there. One day he’d have to take stock of what all was inside, but that was not today. Maybe next time they had an inn room.
Each book went in softly, no friction between Maxima’s and Vahn’s magic like he’d been expecting. Maybe it was a way of passing the torch; Maxima could no longer use the spells and now they were Vahn’s. A kind way to think of it. Better than a body being ripped apart for magic power alone without a care to the knowledge within.
When he finished and Hawke was still not yet back, Vahn washed up to grip some normalcy back to his routine. Looked less tired, at least. Nails were still a mess and he fixed them the best he could. It’d been so long since he chewed them down so far; he hadn’t even realized he’d been doing it until it hurt. Soft healing magic ghosted across the tips from the file until he was sure they’d be fine.
Hawke still had not returned by the time he finished and so, Vahn settled cross-legged on the bed and drew his arcane cards free.
Arcane Magic was the act of touching the cards with reverence. An understanding of the powers at work as the cards shuffled from hand to hand, blurring the images between his fingers. The deftness of the glide between cards, each smooth and right, the edges made with Vahn’s own blood mixed in silver. Each card had been created by him in a trance he could hardly recall now. Allowed the cards to simply be without much conscious thought, making them deep and raw. Not all magicians could do the same—the ingredients for the trance and all the prep work therein was not for the faint of heart nor for someone without a university backing the process—but that didn’t make another Arcane practitioner’s spreads any less true. Just… fuzzier.
Vahn’s cards were as true as he was. Every one he’d painted with different colors alloyed with precious metals and magic. Each edge stained with power and intent. They simply breathed his magic and if any other magician tried a spread with them, it would not work at all.
The cards told him to cease and he stopped shuffling. He set the deck before him on the black alter cloth he’d drawn out for the occasion. Power oscillated around him, touching his fingertips and his lips, waiting for a question to be asked. He waited until the right one remained as all the others eased away like the tide.
“Am I on the right path?” he intoned, feeling the magic take hold of his words to shape an answer for him.
Then he drew his simple spread. Three cards arranged in a line before him, denoting the past, the present, and the future. What was, what is, and what could be. Vahn exhaled, letting the question settle upon the cards, and turned the first one on the left. The past. There was a lone figure painted there, colorful hues cresting the background like the halo of the sun. Beginnings. Where he was alone, but new and vibrant to the world around him. Apt, if a little on the nose.
He moved to the next card: the present. The coupling card Vahn had drawn the morning after he’d met Hawke. Two bodies walking side-by-side. The world behind them still shimmered, but had dulled from the days gone by. The world was no longer new, Vahn was no longer vibrant, but the companionship brought him new opportunities he would never have had on his own.
Now the last card. The one that could change meaning to everything before it. As he pressed his fingers against it, magic traced it, urging him to flip it. He did so and sought his future. Two figures were entwined together, inside one another at one angle, but distinct at another. Behind them, the colors turned bright as a splash of watercolor and oscillated through the card of its own volition.
“Hm.”
Vahn drew the spread again, but ended up with the same cards. Thrice he did it and received the same cards. Every time the Entwined card came back, it seemed brighter as though mocking the way it sent a jolt through Vahn’s stomach. He couldn’t deny that it made him flustered, but it also didn’t mean anything like it was insinuating.
Their fates were intertwined, that was all. He thought to ask the dice for further advice but refrained. Too bold. He was flustered and any attempt to find a more concrete answer would be skewed at this point.
It wasn’t as though he disliked the outcome, even if it partly vexed him. He stared at the card, hoping for more clarity, and bit his lip. Most of the card creation ritual were hazy memories at this point, each one connected to an ecstasy fueled haze, but sometimes gazing upon the cards helped him recall the intent he placed in each card. This was decidedly more… intimate than a simple entwining of fates. The ritual had given him visions of so many different bodies he’d entwined himself with and it was what guided his hand to draw the forms on the card. And now, against his better judgement perhaps, he was imagining himself in the card’s image with Hawke. The visions rolled together, reminding him how it felt. The warmth. The high. How it—
The door creaked and Vahn slapped the card down, face hot. Hawke eyed him as he came inside, immediately suspicious.
“What?”
“Nothing.” Vahn would not have believed himself had he been Hawke and gathered his cards before Hawke could make any guesses. “Just consulting my cards. Magician things. Oh!” He straightened and smiled at Hawke with the perfect distraction. “The magician told me their name—it’s Maxima.”
Hawke threw a suspicious look toward the skeleton. Still gleaming bright in the sun, as though mocking Hawke’s skepticism. “How exactly did they tell you their name?”
Vahn wiggled his fingers and stuffed the deck of cards away. “Sorcery!” He cackled and fell over into the pillows as Hawke released a long sigh. “I’m serious! The books told me.” He belted his card pouch back to his sash and stood. “Did you get the guards situated, then?”
“Yeah, thankfully Abbie was there.” Hawke scratched the back of his head as he headed toward his things. “She was sad, but figured as much. She said she’ll deal with it. However that is. I think we should head off before they get here.”
Sensible enough. Hawke didn’t seem like the mourning type and neither was Vahn, if he was being honest. “Where are we headed, then?”
The question made Hawke pause as he knelt at his bag. He drummed his fingers on his chin, thinking. The bath had done wonders on his skin. Back to its honey gold and the scruff lining his jaw had been softened. Even his hair shone brighter.
“Well, you know I’m full of shit now with the whole listen to the wind schtick.”
“Ah, yes.” Vahn pulled his bag over his shoulder and watched Hawke gather up his lute to do the same. “It’s still nice, though.” The wind trickled inside, blowing a soft breeze around them as though in agreement. “If the wind truly did call, where do you think it’d take us?”
A moment’s silence became longer than it truly was, Vahn was sure, but he loved it all the same. Being there beside Hawke, their fates entwined from their chance meeting. Hawke ruminated on the question as Vahn watched him and an answer worked its way along his face when he gazed into the sky.
“You know… let’s start walking and find out.” He smiled at Vahn. “Still think it wants us across the lake.”
“Are you going to toss me in?”
“Maybe if you tease me again.”
Vahn wasn’t sure if that was an invitation or a warning and bit back his laughter. “Oh, I’m sure that won’t be too hard to avoid.”
Hawke eyed Vahn suspiciously before he chuckled. “I don’t hear Elwick at any rate.” He fastened the lute’s strap across his chest and picked up his bag. “As long as we get away from here, I think we’ll be better off in the long run.” He looked over Vahn and a flash of worry crossed his face. “How’s your magic?”
“I’ve more of it,” Vahn said. “I am eager to be on the move, though. I can handle it.”
“You ever do a card spread for me?”
The question took Vahn by surprise and he halted, confused. He quickly shook his head at the earnest look Hawke was giving him. He must have been working up to the question because of course, Vahn’s attempt to distract him away from the offending card did not work. “No and you wouldn’t want me to, believe me.”
“Aw, why not?”
“You would accuse me of fixing it.” Vahn knew what the cards would do should he do a spread for Hawke specifically. Between coupling and entwining, there was only a few ways to read it and Vahn did not want to fluster Hawke that much (his legs did a good job doing that all on their own).
Hawke rolled his eyes. “All right, all right. You ready to go?”
“As I’ll ever be.”
Before they left the room, Vahn wrapped the skeleton—Maxima, he corrected—in blankets from the bed. It would do them no good if they caught a cold from watching the sky they loved so much. Vahn lingered after doing so, wanting to say something worthwhile and meaningful, but nothing came.
“I’ll carry on what you began,” he whispered instead. “Thank you.”
It almost seemed like the skeleton smiled, crystals twinkling as it did so, but that was rather preposterous even through the lens of magic. Vahn left Maxima be and followed Hawke down through the tower. They fit all the supplies Hawke had found (even some of the jars from the work room and thankfully, the divine strawberry jam) into Vahn’s bag. Vahn even got Hawke to show him how he’d pulled a blanket free last night.
Words suffused with magic, the power beneath Vahn’s fingers simply overwhelming, and Hawke had simply asked nicely. Intriguing. There was a desire to study it further, have Hawke repeat the process over and over again until he could replicate it each time, but Hawke waved Vahn off, smiling.
“You just want to touch my throat.”
Maybe that was part of it. Vahn did like his skin up against Hawke’s, the way it was soft and tingled, and he gave Hawke a coy smile instead of admitting it aloud.
As they left, Vahn remade the wards simply, so if the guards chose to bring another magician to see to Maxima, they would be able to undo them. All their secrets and power, however, were already gone, so Vahn doubted anyone would disturb their resting place beyond an attempt to mourn the magician in the tower. He gazed upward at the structure, taking it in, and smiled. Even though the Floating World had forgotten about Maxima, even as they’d given up wandering and planted roots, they had made a home here and protected it well.
“Goodbye, Maxima,” Vahn whispered.
His voice fluttered up with the wind and the golden leaves rustled. They kissed the building, shuddering as the branches moved, and then all was silent. Vahn and Hawke were on their way, continuing the trek to Lakewatch.
“So,” Vahn said, giving his arms a much-needed stretch outward. “Can you sing and walk at the same time? I know you can dance… but walking’s different, right?”
Hawke snorted. “I can play and do all that too.” He pulled his lute out in front and ghosted his fingertips across the strings. “Why? Wanna hear something?”
“Perhaps.” Vahn tilted his head toward Hawke. In the distance, hills and foliage returned, but right here, the road was smooth and long, rocks as waymarks of magic. He still wanted to study each and every one, even knowing what they were for now, but his desire to listen to Hawke won out. “I would like to hear something. Maybe not anything raunchy.”
Hawke strummed a few starts, thinking, and moved his fingers across the strings as easy as breathing. After a few different melodies, his face brightened. “Ah, I know. You ever hear about the Queen and the Goddess Moon?”
“Not that I can recall.”
“Well, it has adventure. A daring princess who becomes queen of the moon with her crystal heart.” The beginning notes came out delicate, but sure. Vahn wanted to lean into it, feel the vibrations himself as Hawke’s fingers moved. Even wanted to feel the magic blooming in Hawke’s throat. The way he made the voice his, all hard edges softened until it resembled honey somehow.
“I think I remember most of it,” Hawke said, breaking the spell. “How about it? Want to listen?”
Vahn smiled up at Hawke. “I’d love to.”
🙡🙢
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