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“It is extraordinary that nobody nowadays under the stress of great troubles is turned into stone or a bird or a tree or some inanimate object; they used to undergo such metamorphoses in ancient times (or so they say), though whether that is myth or a true story I know not. Maybe it would be better to change one’s nature into something that lacks all feeling, rather than be so sensitive to evil. Had that been possible, these calamities would in all probability have turned me to stone.”
— The Alexiad, written by Anna Komnene, the daughter of the Byzantine Emperor Alexios I Komnenos, c. 1148.
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i cry a little thinking about sloane being a siphon. signets are what your dragon's see at your core and i think about how hers must've seen all the pain & loneliness & wanted to give her the closest thing he could to life so she can start healing herself as well.
It's late evening, and you’re sitting by the parapet of the Riders Quadrant, the vast sky overhead fading from a soft purple to deep blue as the last hints of daylight slip away. You’ve brought your sketchbook with you, taking advantage of the peaceful view to capture the mountains and the stretch of the parapet in the fading light. A lantern beside you casts a warm glow over your hands as you carefully sketch the landscape.
You hear the soft sound of footsteps behind you, and without looking up, you know who it is. Bodhi has a way of finding you when you least expect it, and tonight is no different. He walks over quietly, settling down beside you with that familiar air of curiosity.
“You always manage to find the best spots,” he says, his voice quiet and relaxed as he watches you sketch. “What are you working on this time?”
You glance at him briefly, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Just the view,” you reply, lifting the edge of your sketchbook so he can see the delicate lines of mountains, parapets, and sky coming to life on the page.
Bodhi raises an eyebrow, genuinely impressed. “You’re seriously talented. I didn’t know you were such an artist.”
You shrug, feeling a bit shy under his gaze. “It’s just something to do when I need to clear my head.”
He tilts his head, studying you more than the drawing now. “It suits you,” he says, his voice softer. “You’ve always got this calm about you, like you’re thinking ten steps ahead of everyone else.”
His words make you chuckle, though there’s a blush creeping up your neck. “I just like having something to focus on, I guess.”
There’s a comfortable silence as the two of you sit side by side, the night growing darker around you, and the stars slowly starting to appear overhead. Bodhi’s eyes drift back to the view, then to you again.
“I’ve been thinking a lot lately,” he says, his voice quieter, more thoughtful. “You know, with everything going on. But being here with you... it makes it easier to forget all that, just for a while.”
You meet his gaze, feeling the weight of his words, and something shifts in the air between you. The closeness, the stillness of the moment—it’s peaceful, yet charged with something deeper.
“Maybe that’s why I come out here too,” you admit, feeling the connection between you two grow. “Just to forget, even if it’s just for a little while.”
He smiles softly, his expression more serious now. “I get it. But you—you’re different. You make it easy to be around you.”
You blush again, and this time, you don’t bother trying to hide it. There’s something comforting in his presence, and you feel a warmth spread through your chest as he reaches out, brushing a loose strand of hair behind your ear.
“I like this,” he says quietly, his voice carrying the weight of what he doesn’t say. “Being with you like this.”
You look up at him, your heart racing a little faster as his eyes search yours. The world seems to slow, and for a moment, it’s just the two of you, sitting together on the parapet under the starry sky.
“I like it too,” you whisper, feeling the truth of your words settle between you.
And in that quiet, beneath the stars and the vast night sky, you realize just how much this moment with him means.
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