Even since she first stepped foot upon the Land of Echoes, she had been in awe of a land so deep in faith compared to the land ruled by science that had been her (former) home. Ever since Rinacita’s long night had been vanquished by lantern’s light had the recovery efforts been in full swing. Efforts which had brought her here in the first place, sent to aid on behalf of the Black Shores and thus had her days consisted of tasks where she could apply her talents where needed.

Of course, even with many contributing to the recovery of the land in the aftermath, it did not erase the issues that lingered in the land to begin with, from crimes that struck in the dead of night, to the Order that still held so much influence, to the whispered rumours about the Filsalias.

As her thoughts focus on the Fisalia family and the rumours circulating them, Soren is reminded of the apothecary that she’d sighted a few times in her stay here so far. The rumours didn’t mean too much to her, thinking that surely if such a store was allowed to exist then the rumours can’t have much stock in them. No, she cared little for the falsified tales and would much rather seek the truth out for herself.

The trail of thought did also remind her how quickly she was depleting her pain management supplies, side effects of past overclocking surfacing much more frequently than before. She can't help but wonder if the apothecary would stock anything that would bring her some relief. Through such thoughts she’d find that she’d been subconsciously making her way to the store, only stopping a short distance away once she’d dragged herself out of her thoughts. Well…perhaps now was as good a time as any to try and obtain something for her pain. 

This time, she fully takes in the appearance of the small store, eyes glancing over the many bottles in the back, all varying in size and color. Next, her gaze is drawn to the counter, noting the lack of the one that the apothecary was named after, instead seeing the other alchemist she’d sighted working there. After she takes a moment to steel her nerves, Soren finally approaches the counter, noticing  a calming and pleasant scent in the air. Now that she’s face to face with the alchemist is she able to fully take in the other’s appearance, focusing mostly on her face and eyes. 'Cute.' The thought startles Soren so much she momentarily forgets why she came here in the first place. Not even the aroma in the air would be enough to calm her nerves now. "U-um…" O-oh right, pain relief, that’s what she was here for, not staring at cute people. What a great first impression she’s sure, looking like a stumbling idiot to the other. Soren takes a breath and starts again, hoping to sound less like a fool. "H-hello there, I was w-wondering if you stocked anything for pain relief, and if so, anything you’d r-reccomend?" 

The priestess’ eyes blinked slowly, drawn out of the comfortable silence they had found themselves in following a lengthy discussion, one of hopes and dreams for the future. Even now, there was some disbelief that she, someone who's fate was death, could be shown that she could have a future at all. Oh, what a lovely hope it was.

Now, she could see that the campfire was not the only faint illumination upon the deck of the gauntlet runner, but the beginnings of a sunrise, a signal of the birth of a new day. “O-oh, so it is…” How easy it was to lose track of time in Will’s presence. Never before had she felt so comfortable around someone else who was not her brother. She had never once felt the need to wear the mask around him, or the others. 

It is this comfort and peace that brings a small flush to her face, remembering that handshake he had offered after that grueling trial, even if he did not realize the implications that it held to the mustari tribe.

Soren wasn’t lying that night when she said she sleeps well in Mana’s presence, she had truly meant every word, even if her actions suggested the opposite was true. Her inability to sleep had nothing to do with her beloved, she had been wanting to open up about the thoughts in her head, her struggles with sleeping, the ever worsening nightmares, but with everything leading up to Evie’s birth and the aftermath, she had struggled to find a good time. She had fallen asleep easier laying next to Mana and had almost slept the whole night this time if it wasn’t for yet another nightmare violently tearing her from her slumber. Soren’s hand clamps onto her unnatural eye, the memory and pain of her nightmare still lingering. 

Her sudden awakenings would always worry her that she’d also wake Mana up as well, or even worse that she would lash out while she was trapped in a nightmare and hurt Mana again, like she had early on into their relationship. 

So, normally she’d get up and busy herself with work to try and prevent that from happening, then to also try and clear her head. It was, in the end, nothing but a distraction. 

This time, she could not bring herself to do so, instead rolling onto her side to gaze upon Mana’s slumbering form. Soren can’t help but think that she looks so peaceful and moves the hand she’d had on her eye to brush some of hair out of the other viera’s face before resting it on her cheek. No, she can’t bear the thought of leaving her, especially when she’d had to come and find Soren in the first place. Guilt claws at her as she becomes lost in thought, that once again she isn’t telling Mana everything even in spite of all the disagreements they’ve had over it. How many times had they hurt Mana by not being open, by keeping very important things hidden? How many times did Mana have to ask her to let her in? She felt ever so guilty that the main way her beloved found these things out is by either being drunk or being caught red handed. Soren had never ever intended to hurt her but…not being open was doing so, wasn’t it?

A sense of desperation clouded her mind as the dangers of the South Horn only ever seemed to grow deeper the further into unknown terrain they ventured. The setting of the sun only ever added to that, ashkin rising once again, their eternal slumber once again denied to them. No matter how much they both fought, it felt as though there was no end to them and thus her desperation grew. She had to get stronger, she needed to. Neither of them could fall here, not to some godsdamned walking tin cans. Even if it left her drained, Soren had to try something. A deep breath is followed by the manipulation of aether within the air, grasping onto the signal of the other viera’s aether, using that connection to rush to the other’s side, seemingly teleporting. Soren pulls the scholar behind her as glowing ley lines appear at their feet, the surrounding air starting to feel uncomfortably hot as Soren channels her magicks, all to unleash one her her strongest spells into the approaching hoard of the undead, an overwhelming blast of fire, seemingly shaped like a star. The fiery blast consumes the ashkin and when the flames settle into mere embers, does the sight of melted metal meet them. Perhaps now, those cursed undead can finally be at peace. Exhausted, she risks a glance back at Mana, a pointed look telling her that yes, that was extremely reckless, though soon, the scholar’s eyes lock on her cheek, bringing attention to an unnoticed injury, just above the edge of her mask. Initially Soren wants to protest it being healed, that it is so minor that it can heal by itself, that it’s fine. The mentions of being unable to risk infection in a place so unknown, combined with the look in her eye shuts her up instantly. 

Weariness from a work trip away from home sets into her bones, a trip that had taken longer than she would like. Even if her family were only a simple linkpearl call away, she still didn’t like to be apart for too long. There’s relief in seeing lights in the windows of their home as she approaches (always worrying about what could happen if she were away). 

A smile tugs at her lips as she slips inside, surrounded by the sights and sounds of her oh so precious family that means the world to her. Soren snickers at the sight of their daughters playing, plush animals once again at their mercy. Soon her gaze comes to rest upon Mana (her moon, one of her lights in the darkness) who had by now noticed her return, warm smile on her face, a sight that Soren will never tire of. How loved it makes her feel.

It takes her a moment, too mesmerised by the warmth the other viera radiated, to realize that Mana’s arms are raised in her direction. There, Soren wastes no time in crossing the distance, sinking into an embrace that is equally, if not more, warm than her smile.

She will never tire of this, she will never forget this feeling. How much she loves and is loved in return, of how much the Mana’s presence, her touch, her warmth, her scent, how it all brings comfort to her, even in the darkest days. This feeling, and more, is what makes Mana home to her. Mana is her home, no matter what happens.

"Are you quite well?" Hulkenberg's tone was quiet, cautious in tone as she approached the comparatively-diminutive form of her captain. It was clear that Will was deep in thought as he leaned upon the railing of the gauntlet runner that had become their base of operations during their pursuit of the crown--a fairly common sight. The Elda bore an unimaginable weight of responsibility upon his shoulders, she knew, and that meant a great deal of consideration. 'Twould only make sense that he needed to withdraw into his own thoughts often.

However, the slump to his frame, the way he was showing signs of weariness...

A familiar pleased shudder runs down his spine in response to those words and the hint of a promise of hearing it more. A quick glance to the clock upon the wall shows him that it was several hours past the point of when he said he would be taking a break with his project, perhaps he had become a bit too engrossed with the mechanical parts on his workbench, ones that by now, were very much forgotten as soon as those words had left Mana’s lips.

Guilt does tug at him even if he is more than familiar with the tone of the other viera. “G-gods, I’m sorry. I did not mean to lose track of time like this.” He turns in his seat to face Mana fully, reaching out to gently pull him into his lap, to hold him close in quiet (further) apology. 

There’s a mix in what he feels, from the guilt of his mishap to the lingering pleasure from such simple words. He can’t get enough of being called that, or any of the other words of praise that may be gifted upon him. The desire to hear such more drives him to further enthusiasm, anything to hear more praise spill from the other’s lips.