Some nights, the ghosts still find her, undaunted by their graves.

In Gridania, the nightmares lessen, hidden away by towering trees instead of being
framed by stone and spire at every turn. Rielle blooms brilliantly - flowering with
a bright smile and sharp tongue under the snatches of sun through the sheltering
canopy. Conjury comes to her easily, and the tittering of the Elementals is only
matched by her new friends at the Fane.
Though he was never one for the forest, Sidurgu doesn't mind staying if it means
watching her flourish. (And yes, that includes his near-daily routine of slaying
ground squirrels and chigoe like any other adventurer, his experience as a
mercenary be damned.)
But tonight, in the comfort of their temporary accommodations, he is reminded that
mercy never found a place in Halone's repertoire.
Rielle wakes with a start in their shared bed - a harsh gasp, pulse racing like a
rabbit's, eyes wildly scanning the corners of the room, thin form curling into
herself should something, anything try to hurt her. The aether about Rielle shifts
and Sid stirs, faintly aware of the way she's squirmed away from him. He sleepily
opens his eyes, limbal rings glowing faintly when he adjusts to the dark between
midnight and dawn. He was a light sleeper, never falling too deep into the abyss of
unconsciousness lest he break his constant vigil - a trait he picked up out of
necessity, born from a fitful youth of running, running, running-
...Oh. His eyes widen in minute surprise. The gleaming wetness staining Rielle's
face does not go unnoticed, nor does the trembling of her shoulders when she bites
back whimpers.
Sid never knows what to say when this happens; he's no stranger to nightmares
himself, but the soothing words from Fray are lost when he feels something inside
his ribs twist at the sight of her. She is just a child, they said. They were
right, when she seems so terribly small in that moment.
So he waits, watching Rielle from where she barely peeks out of the covers.
"Another nightmare?" He finally asks, voice too rough and loud for his own liking
in the room.
She nods. He silently slips out of the covers after letting his gaze linger for a
moment.
He is familiar with the motions now, mentally recounting the steps Ser Ompagne
would take for him when he was young. The dying glow of a dim lantern illuminates
the room - just enough for him to pick his way around the small house without
tripping and banish the dark from Rielle's head. Anything to keep from reminding
her of her incarceration.
Sidurgu scours the kitchen, lets a low flame warm his hands over the stove while he
waits for water to boil, and inhales the scent of dried herbs as it fills his
corner of the house.
"Here." He holds the mug of fresh tea towards her, and watches as she takes a sip,
her frame shuddering slightly when relief travels down her spine. "Better?"
She nods again, the same demure, despondent motion that she made a hundred times
over after being plucked from the streets. There is a frozen sea in her faraway
eyes, like a bird with clipped wings, still locked away in her mother's cage.
Hot rage would be callous when the air feels as fragile as glass. Sidurgu sits at
her bedside, simply letting her breathe and counting the seconds with each rise and
fall of her chest until they become steady.
The wisps of steam between her hands eventually dissipate into nothingness. She
sets the mug aside.
"...Do you think she would have forgiven me?" It is little more than a whisper when
she breaks the stillness, half-choked and watery. In the emptiness of the house, it
echoes in the confines of his horns.
"The way I see it, there is naught to forgive." Sid replies plainly. Nothing wrong
with wanting to live, Fray would say.
"She called me a monster." Rielle says, her voice thin under the smell of herbs.
Her cup sits otherwise untouched on her nightstand, growing cold.
"They called me a monster, too. Though I suppose I am in the business of proving
them right." Sid sighs, then frowns, because he's no good at this - Fray was always
the one malms better with children. Any pithy comfort he could offer stuck in his
throat like thick tar - but then he sees himself in Rielle's place, when the aether
swirls and flickers with sparks from the past.
( Ser Ompagne by his bed, a gentle timbre reading passages from the Enchiridion to
lull him to sleep, a boy begging for forgiveness from those he left behind - their
voices were muted, blurry echoes that he soon forgot, because ghosts couldn't
speak, no matter how many times he engraved their names upon his lips each night.
Not even Nhaama deigned to grace him with her presence when he gazed upon the full,
ivory moon, and he could only wait in the cold, in the dark, for something that
would never come. )
He thinks about that boy, and what he wanted to hear, during all those nights both
alone and haunted.
"For what it's worth - while you may not have family anymore, you have me." He
says, taking her hand in his from where it rests atop the covers. "And no matter
what happens, I'll be there to forgive you."
Her fingers close around his hand, tentatively, deliberately, hesitating -
wondering if she deserves this kindness.
"Thank you." She murmurs, the ice around her thawing slowly. He exhales in relief,
letting her take solace in each scar and callus in his palm.
Sid watches the sunrise with her when it filters through the window, and lets it
chase away their memories.