#narrativefoilwriting

“Like this?”

August slowly shakes their head, anticipating another exasperated sigh from her. Nayeli responds as predicted and rolls her head back to look up at the ceiling for good measure. 

“Can you show me?” Dark brown eyes meet their own when she asks and that now-familiar shiver begins crawling up their spine. If anyone else asked, August would think it was a line, an easy way to get August’s hands on theirs, but Nayeli is genuinely invested in their lessons and they know she hates not knowing how to do things more than she is flustered by them. 

(She is flustered by them pretty frequently, though.)

August nods once. They stand behind where she is seated at the drumset, catch the faint notes of her citrus perfume, and softly grasp her wrists. Nayeli’s breathing hitches and she audibly swallows—a small smug smile tugs at August’s lips and they’re grateful she is not looking at them—as they trail their hands down to cover her own. They adjust her grip, savouring how soft her hands are, and demonstrate how she should hold the drumsticks by moving her hands with theirs. 

“Like this,” they explain.

Nayeli takes an uneven breath. “Oh. I see.” She clears her throat. “Thank you.” 

They nod again. “Maybe you’ll be out-performing me in a year,” August offers offhandedly as they withdraw from her.

Nayeli turns around to look at them, searching their eyes for something. “No I won’t. You’re incredible—I still think about you during our first performance—and I’ll still need you as my drummer. And… I like having you around.”

It’s August’s turn to catch their breath. She is so earnest at unsolicited times it catches them off-guard, and they haven’t learned how to find their balance yet. 

Location:

The X tribe lives in the Fringes of Gyr Abania. Once a stationary group, X’rheni explained that they have been nomadic for years to avoid direct confrontation with Garlean forces as the latter expands its invasion of the territory. Many of their practices (e.g. minimising the number of personal effects each member has, and a deep concern over ensuring the longevity over said effects) are a result of the instability of this forced migration. Despite his sojourn to Gridania over two years ago, these practices appear to be ingrained in my friend; I often see him at night cleaning and mending his gear and weaponry (perhaps more meticulously than the average adventurer, though in this I am—unfortunately—no expert).   

X tribe’s nearest neighbours are the M tribe, yet these two rarely interact. I am given to understand that this is not from lack of interest on behalf of the M tribe, but rather that the X tribe has operated in a closed manner for many generations, since the Autumn War. It seems that beyond the occasional crossing of paths with the M tribe or confrontations with Garlean forces, X tribe does not engage with the wider populace of Gyr Abania, much less Eorzea.  

Tribal structure:

Somewhat similar to their neighbouring M tribe, X tribe is an outlier in its organisation of power. The nunh(2)—only one of which exists at a time, unlike in larger tribes—not only has a monopoly on fathering children, but also on political power. He is the head of the tribe and his word is absolute, which X’rheni bitterly recounted.

The power the X tribe nunh has does not, however, extend to other men in the tribe on the basis of maleness. Despite their small numbers in the tribe, the nunh and whomever he is grooming to take his place frequently single out and mistreat tia men and boys because their presence—according to X’rheni—represents a potential threat to the nunh and his successor(3).

Beyond the nunh, X’rheni said that it was the women of his tribe who held the most power, albeit in an informal capacity. Female elders, as well as adult women who had mothered children, oversaw the daily operation of the tribe. X’rheni’s mother, X’keza, was well regarded and acted as the collective voice of the women.

Tribal composition:

X tribe’s numbers have dwindled since the Seventh Umbral Calamity. Once 60+ members strong, many succumbed to injuries in the wake of the Calamity and others have since died as a result of Garlean invasion. When X’rheni left, his tribe numbered around 40 members. 

Due to these small numbers, a shift has occurred in the operation of the tribe: while larger tribes may have people occupy specific roles (e.g., healer, mender, hunter, childcare provider), all members of X tribe are now taught all the skills necessary for the preservation of the tribe, with older members teaching younger members, and members stepping into roles based on need on a given day. (X’rheni spoke of doing the following, all in one day: hunting, looking after his younger sisters(4), healing minor wounds, woodworking, and leatherworking.) It appears as though this collectivist culture sits alongside the aforementioned highly autocratic power structure, though X’rheni did not remark on the oddity of this. 

Intra-tribal relationships:

While there is a strong collectivist culture in X tribe, X’rheni noted that children stay with and are primarily looked after by their biological mothers, though other tribe members help as needed. Half-siblings are not necessarily treated as family unless the mothers are close with one another. 

What I found perhaps most fascinating was what X’rheni shared with me about X tribe’s approach to romance and sex. Romantic and most sexual relationships are expressly forbidden and have been since the Garlean invasion of Ala Mhigo approximately 22 years ago. Though I would speculate that such relationships were banned in order to keep the population manageable for a group forced to migrate and operating in scarcity conditions, X’rheni cited an incident in which a tia and a woman had an illegitimate child together as rationale. The banning of sexual contact extends to even that between members of the same sex as well as teenagers, and applies to everyone save for the nunh and the women he chooses to bear his children. Penalties for engaging in romantic or sexual relationships outside of these bounds include disfigurement(5) or exile.

I shall continue to add to these notes as and when X’rheni shares further information with me. Although not my area of expertise, I cannot help but find myself compelled to learn more about these practices(6), different as they are from what I remember of my own tribe in Corvos, not to mention other Eorzean tribes. 

Notes:

Should these notes become public, I feel it necessary to clarify that we are companions in the adventuring sense. X’rheni is my sword arm in the Crystal Tower, and is mentoring me in archery. 

I should also clarify that X’rheni is not a nunh of the X tribe as I describe: he never fathered children nor occupied a role of political power. (In fact, he responded rather hostilely when I asked upon meeting how his children were, though I meant no offence.) Rather, he adopted the title upon leaving the tribe allegedly to denote his break from it. I believe that ‘nunh’ represents a certain ideal he wished (mayhap wishes?) to embody.

He had a difficult time looking at me during that particular conversation. There may be something more to it than what he divulged.

He lights up when he mentions his sisters, several of whom are significantly younger than he, and I find myself captivated by his eyes. Never before have I considered the beauty in heterochromia—given the teasing I endured for mine own—yet it is increasingly difficult to look away from his purple and gold eyes. (4a: I must remember to keep this journal hidden well away in my tent at Saint Coinach’s Find; I do not yet know how X’rheni would react should he catch wind of such sentiments on my part.)

The long scar across X’rheni’s forehead and cheek is the result of one such penalty, though I shall not go into detail about the event that preceded this. 

When Utha had sought him out after liberating the Scions from Castrum Centri, he had been moved that out of all her friends and comrades, she chose to celebrate with him. She understood what this victory meant to him as well. They had made short work of undressing and losing themselves in each other, and now basked in the afterglow, brightened by each other’s company and the sweat on their skin. 

Cid wished to live in these moments. 

Yet Utha’s linkpearl chimed. Even before she finished her conversation, Cid knew she had to go; plans were in motion to topple Gaius van Baelsar and his Ultima Weapon, and Utha was once again key to their success, with Cid working as support. He knew with her on its side, Eorzea was sure to win. 

She looked over at him with an apologetic smile. “Sorry, duty calls. I’ll see you afterwards, yeah?” 

“Of course.”

Too soon she was dressed and leaving one final smudged lipstick kiss next to his third eye on her way out. 

They both had work to do. Yet Cid, already cold without her, yearned for the next time he could hold Utha in his arms. 

ii.

By now, Cid had learned to treasure what moments he and Utha managed to steal.

This one was no exception, though it was tinged with loss: Utha had shown up at his door following the attack on Baelsar’s Wall and Papalymo’s sacrifice. Wordlessly, he had folded her into his arms, letting her put down her grief and anger if only temporarily.

Though physical intimacy was a constant in their relationship—an unlabelled yet nonetheless significant one, Utha having triumphantly confessed her feelings to him after their shared victory over Bismarck and he in turn (in shock, in joy) expressed his—this time, they laid together chastely and quietly.

The cost of today’s victory was a palpable presence, a reminder that they were at the start of a revolution. It was an unspoken truth between them that their love for each other must yield to their shared love for the world—yet when they were together, they belonged to one another.

Cid held Utha until she was once again strong enough to face the world outside his arms. She dozed off as he stroked her hair, and he too felt more grounded for her comforting weight on him.

Finally, too quickly, Utha stirred. She heaved a sigh as she sat up.

“I imagine you will be off to Ala Mhigo now?”

Utha nodded. “We’re bracing for retaliation now that we’ve breached Baelsar’s Wall. We can’t let the people there face it alone.”

Cid gave her a kiss on her shoulder. “Be safe—and give them hell.”

Utha lifted his chin and left him with a lingering kiss. When she pulled away, that familiar resolve glinted in her eyes. She parroted his words—said ages ago, joking in tone then only because he knew she would succeed—back to him: “Don’t even think about dying on me.”

He did not know when he would see her again, yet he had faith that he would.

iii.

Perhaps the Ironworks office in Rhalgr’s Reach was not the best place for this particular victory lap, yet Cid could not find it in himself to care. They had defeated Omega, Zenos yae Galvus was dead, and Ala Mhigo was free. If ever there was a time to celebrate, to revel shamelessly in joy and in one another, it was this.

With a final cry, he collapsed against her chest. A low, smoky laugh rumbled from her, intoxicating in spite of—or perhaps because of—its (well-earned) smugness. Cid soothed his slightly bruised ego by kissing Utha’s knuckles, leaving her momentarily breathless in turn.

As he caught his breath, he took stock of the office: papers were strewn about the floor, gadgets were pushed to the side of the desk, and his desk chair below them now rocked unsteadily.

“Quite the mess we’ve made,” Utha murmured in his ear.

“Will you help me clean it up?”

“I don’t know… do you trust me to organise your files?” She wore his favourite of her smiles, a gently playful one, and he hid the way his heart clenched with an affectionate eye roll.

After sorting themselves out, they began straightening the office. They worked in tandem, in companionable silence, fluidly navigating around one another. So often in the past, their rendezvouses would end with Utha having to rush off and Cid left alone to clean up both himself and his space. To have her here in such mundane circumstances was thrilling.

Not for the first time Cid let himself picture what domesticity between them might look like.

He wanted it so badly his hands trembled.

—Then Utha’s linkpearl chimed, as if reminding him of this nigh impossibility. By now, Cid knew that meant their time together had ended.

When they emerged from his office, they had an audience. Biggs and Wedge made a show of waving goodbye to Utha, who laughed off their teasing, wished them well, and asked them to look after Cid for her. Her eyes glimmered as she mouthed farewell once more to Cid, who blushed like a schoolboy.

“Nice one, boss—” Biggs called.

“Get back to work.”

Cid turned abruptly on his heel and returned to his office. He was not yet ready to leave their moment, though it had already left him.

iv.

The longest months of Cid’s life were finally over.

Utha’s disappearance to the First was a test of his resolve like no other. Being unable to see her, hear from her, knowing she was likely in mortal peril—he felt like he had aged many years. This was not the first time he and Utha had gone so long without seeing each other, but it was the first time that he knew he could not see her. 

It made him weak. 

Helping her, G’raha Tia, and Alisaie now with the cure to tempering was a small salve on a wound he knew would take many moons to heal.

His struggle of course paled in comparison to what Utha experienced, which he was only beginning to understand.

Upon her return to Eorzea, Utha had not sought him out immediately. Cid had quashed the urge to run to her at Revenant’s Toll—to lay eyes and hands on her and verify for himself that she was okay—yet it was a near thing.

If he had made more excursions to Saint Coinach’s Find hoping to hear news of her and the Scions, well. That was his prerogative.

When he finally did see her during their work together on the supercomputer, she was turned inward; her familiar warmth he had loved for years was nowhere to be seen. He tried to rationalise this—she had been whisked away against her will to another shard, she had apparently averted another calamity at great cost, and she had just returned to Eorzea—but unease curled dark and oily in the pit of his stomach.  

She only appeared at his door after they finished their project. As always, Cid welcomed her in.

After an awkward, silent few minutes of Utha avoiding Cid’s gaze, Cid sat down on his bed. “How are you?” he ventured.

Utha fidgeted. She went to sit down next to him, then seemed to think better of it and opted to stand with her arms crossed tightly against her chest instead.

“Not…great. I don’t— I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Utha.” At this she looked at him. “Come here?” Cid opened his arms.

He watched her war with herself for a moment before she relented, though she walked towards him as if approaching her executioner. He tried to mask his hurt, even as the pit in his stomach yawned ever wider.

It took more restraint than he could muster to not embrace her with all the longing, all the desperation, all the relief he’d stored up since last they were together.

Yet Utha remained rigid in his arms. Her breathing ran ragged and she trembled from the effort of holding herself back from him.

Cid could not comfort her with his touch, so he changed tactics. “I’ve missed you,” he confessed into the crook of her neck. He could have said more but surely—surely, she must have known he’d been mad with worry, paralysed in the face of his own inability to help her; surely, she must have known he loved her regardless, even if she could not look at him right now.

Even this understatement was too much: with a choked sound, Utha stumbled out of his arms and towards the door.

“Utha?”

She hesitated at the door for a moment before she said, “I can’t do this right now, I’m sorry. I’ll—talk to you later.” Utha left without a backwards glance.

Left alone once more, for the first time in the course of their relationship, Cid was not at all sure that he would see Utha again.

The pit in his stomach swallowed him whole.  

v.

When Utha returned from Ultima Thule, it was one of the happiest days of Cid’s life.

When Utha later appeared at his doorway, not as the victorious hero but as the battered shell of herself, and gave voice to what he had already known (she needed space—she could not be with him right now—she could not be around him), it was one of the darkest days of Cid’s life.

He would live in wait for the next time his sun shone on him. Until then, he was consigned to the shadows to nurse his broken heart and hope that Utha would (could) do the same.   

vi.

The vast ocean between Utha and him was a blessing: on particularly difficult days, it was the only thing that stopped Cid from reaching out to her. He hoped the change of scenery that Tural provided would help Utha find her way back to herself—and eventually, back to him.

He understood and respected her wish for space, but that did not make it any easier to live without her. He missed her as a lover: his bed was empty, his sheets too neat and too cold without her there. He missed her as a friend: sharing his triumphs and breakthroughs, his petty grievances and daily minutiae, with anyone else paled in comparison to her.

He missed her in his marrow.

Still, he had work to do: their star had averted the Final Days, but many lives were still in tatters or irrevocably changed. What succor he and the Ironworks could offer, they did. He found several talented engineers among the fallen empire’s survivors whom he and his colleagues trained so they could build technological infrastructure for the new Garlemald. The work was meaningful and dulled the ever-present ache he had learned to live with.

In quiet moments when his mind wandered, though, he filled his sketchbook with Utha: her mouth mid-tease, her eyes watching him, her hands languidly twirling her weapons. Pages and pages of her until she occupied his sketchbook as much as his mind.

And so his life without Utha continued: bearable except when it was not.

—Until one day, many moons into their separation, when she appeared at his door.

“Hey Cid. Can I come in?”

It took him a moment to remember to breathe, for his heart to settle back into his chest from where it had lodged in his throat, but he ushered her in just as he had done so many times before.

“You look… great,” he offered when he could speak.

She did: She looked healthy and strong, her skin more freckled from time spent in the sun, and she stood relaxed and confident. He noted her temples had greyed more; this visible reminder of their time apart sat like a weight on his chest. 

No matter—she was here now.

After some tentative small talk, they caught one another up on their lives: her time in Alexandria, his time in Garlemald. He felt stilted, still caught off-guard, yet each time he stumbled, Utha was there with an understanding and quietly apologetic smile.

Gods, he loved her (still; always; forever).

They soon slipped back into a more comfortable dynamic, reminiscent of—though not quite the same as—their early friendship. The longer they spent together, the easier it was. Utha’s laughter and light teasing, which he missed even before their separation, was a balm; seeing her well again made the devastation of their separation worthwhile.

Like old times, Utha’s linkpearl chimed and interrupted them. Cid rose from where he had perched on a chair and said, “I take it you have to go?”

Utha smiled at him, eyes glimmering like they used to. “It’s not anything urgent. Would it be okay if I stayed for a while longer?”

…Truly nothing could have prepared him for this day.

“I would like that a lot.”

She patted the space next to her on his bed, and he eagerly took his place. Cid felt himself thawing, warmed once again by Utha’s sunlight.

Despite all the heartache she had put him through, he knew he would do it again.

from an unpublished oc x oc fic ft. mack and frankie's first meeting:

“That was fucking abysmal, to be clear,” Mack drawled.  “I don’t see you leaving.”  “I’m trying this new thing where I talk to people for more than two minutes before fucking them.”  Frankie gaped at her helplessly, mouth wordlessly opening and closing. She got the sense that he was used to having a comeback. [...] “That’s how you hit on a woman, by the way,” Mack added when Frankie continued gawking at her. She finished off her drink and looked at him expectantly.  “Uhh—Yeah, I—Yeah that uh,” —a choke disguised as a cough into his fist— “yeah I can see how that would work.” “‘Would’ work? I think it’s working just fine.”

tbf this is like half the fic but i love the dialogue LMAO mack's voice is always hilarious to write!

from "please don't tell," a reese x ava b3 ending scene rewrite:

In their combined desperation, Ava knocks Reese’s glasses off-kilter. A wounded animal sound escapes them when she pulls away, but is cut off when she gently removes their glasses and sits them atop their head. The action, so tender and domestic, makes Reese’s already bruised heart ache once more; from the quickly disappearing ghost of a smile on Ava’s face, she must feel it too. 

the domesticity kills me!!!!!!!!!!!!!

from "memory: in advance of mo(u)rning," a winter x mason mortality moment:

“I’m afraid I’ll forget the sound of your voice,” he finally admits, voice rough as sandpaper, speaking into the secrecy of her sleep-mussed hair.  “...I know.” And she does know. She has known. Maybe even longer than he has.  It’s what keeps her up at night too.  There’s nothing else to say so they don’t fill the silence. They continue clutching each other as the universe narrows to their kitchen, the circle of their arms. 

it's really that last line for me, i still feel wild when i reread it. a v short fic that grabbed me by the shoulders and wouldn't let me go until i wrote it down

and last but not least, from "such a living death," a convo about immortality btw winter and her bff adam:

“Please let me finish,” he broke in, voice hoarse, almost pleading. “I have accepted my situation; I chose this. I don’t regret it. I don’t long for humanity, not like others. But that doesn’t make being around humans—seeing the depth of their emotions, their capacity for life, their connection to others—any easier. I learned centuries ago that if I was going to live as I am, I had to become numb to my own humanity.” Adam finally met her eyes. His own green ones were glassy, radiating fondness and despair in equal measure. She felt the look tug under her ribs, hitching her breath. “Winter, you are so human it pains me.”

this fic is the longest i ever spent writing something and a lot of it was doing the internal work of figuring out adam's own relationship to immortality because he is OLD AS HELL and that compels me!

G'raha had offered to go with Rheni, but Rheni had declined. "They can be as awful as they want to me," Rheni had said quietly, mismatched eyes boring into him, "but I won't give them a chance to treat you that way." Instead of venturing deep into The Fringes with Rheni, they had agreed that G'raha would stay nearby with the M tribe.

G'raha only hoped that the intervening time had blunted X tribe's cruelty, yet he knew that even a dull blade could still cut.

Then: two undeniable sets of footfalls. The rhythm of one was as familiar to him as the beat of his own heart, and he turned inexorably towards it.

X'irah appeared first, looking no worse for wear and perking up as soon as she spotted M'naago, and Rheni a moment later. Even at a distance, G'raha could tell how exhausted Rheni was from the hunch of his shoulders, the curtain of hair hiding his face.

The sound of X'irah catching up with M'naago faded into the background as G'raha enveloped Rheni in a hug, his tail wrapping around Rheni's leg. He felt Rheni sigh against him and then G'raha, too, released the breath he had not realised he was holding.

"How was it? How are you?" G'raha murmured.

Rheni pressed a light kiss to G'raha's forehead. Up close, G'raha could see the half-moon bruises under Rheni's eyes; he gently swept his thumbs against them and Rheni hummed in quiet contentment, leaning into the touch.

"It… could have been worse. I— I want to go to bed."

In the relative privacy of their tent, they laid together. G'raha held Rheni tightly, face buried in the back of Rheni's neck, waiting to see if his partner—so talkative when they first met all those years ago, now much more reticent—wished to speak.

After what could have been a moment or a bell, Rheni offered, "Kinah had her baby. A little boy, Sani."

"I am so sorry you missed it." G'raha felt Rheni's unsteady inhale, and held him impossibly tighter. "Were you able to speak with her?"

"Only briefly. X'ozu still— He didn't want me near her or him." Rheni's voice broke, and so too did G'raha's heart.

He moved into Rheni's line of sight and gently cupped Rheni's face in a silent request to look at him, which Rheni—always obedient, despite his stubbornness—granted. His face was pinched, purple and gold eyes glassy, ears flat against his head.

"I cannot tell you how sorry I am, my love. 'Tis plain to everyone how much you love and miss your family, and I know how greatly you wanted to reach some form of peaceful accord today," G'raha said. "Yet I find myself feeling sorry for your family too, because they have denied themselves the opportunity to know you as you are now—the greatest man I have ever known."

Rheni dropped his eyes and G'raha tilted his head to capture Rheni's gaze once more. "I speak not of your innumerable accomplishments for this star and others, but of you: of your kindness, your capacity for care, even your humility, which was hard won." He wiped a tear from Rheni's face before continuing, "I am here for you always, though I can never make up for the absence of your family—"

Rheni's gaze turned diamond-sharp as he cut G'raha off. "You are my family. You've treated me better than they have, and if I am the man you described, it is because of you. I won't have you minimise how important you are to me."

Before G'raha could object to Rheni's objection, Rheni gave him a searing kiss, his tail wrapping around G'raha's waist.

(He would never object to that, of course.)

Their further discussions were muted, and soon they drifted off in a mutual embrace.

---

The next morning, G'raha awoke to X'irah's excited yelling.

"Rheni! Wake up, wake up right now!" she cried, bursting into their tent. "We have visitors, get up get up get UP!" She danced from side to side in an apparent fit of joy before running back outside.

Hope was plainly written on Rheni's face as he dressed, and G'raha too wished for a better meeting today than yesterday.

Before exiting, Rheni reached for G'raha's hand. Looking at their clasped hands, G'raha murmured, "Are you sure?"

Rheni nodded sharply once. He appeared to visibly brace himself as he did prior to entering battle, and led them outside.

Two women stood next to X'irah. Though Rheni's sisters did not share much resemblance with him, G'raha instantly recognised them from Rheni's stories: X'kinah, with her gentle eyes and a baby strapped to her chest, and X'meeko, with her auburn hair and charming impetuousness.

"Look who came!" X'irah said, bouncing lightly from foot to foot. X'meeko tweaked her ponytail playfully.

"Well yeah! You didn't stay long enough yesterday," X'meeko said with a pout. "We wanted to spend more time with you two. And you should have seen Kinah stand up for herself—and for you, brother—to Ozu yesterday after you left. I was so impressed!"

X'kinah blushed and looked up at Rheni through her eyelashes. "I'm so sorry about Ozu—"

Rheni held up a hand. "Say nothing of it. I am… so glad to see you both, I have no words." G'raha watched the emotion catch in Rheni's throat, and he squeezed Rheni's hand.

"And you must be G'raha," X'kinah offered, turning towards him.

G'raha did not miss the slight hesitation in her eyes when she saw their intertwined hands, but she had the grace to smile at them both. If she was willing to challenge the repressive dogma of her tribe to reach out to Rheni, he was more than willing to reach out in turn. G'raha returned her smile, and hers became more genuine.

After a round of introductions, they sat by the fire pit. Rheni interrogated his sisters on the extent to which they helped their mother, other sisters, and tribal elders, which they allowed with some exasperated sighs. The sisters then caught Rheni up on tribal news before turning their attention to G'raha, wanting to know more about him. He found himself drawn in by X'kinah's warmth, X'meeko's effervescence, and X'irah's brashness that so reminded him of the X'rheni he first met. Most of all, he was drawn in by Rheni's aching affection for them all.

Little X'sani finally stirred against X'kinah's chest, letting out a wail, and Rheni's ears and tail ticked up.

X'kinah laughed softly. "Would you like to hold him?"

Rheni took his nephew into his arms and soothed him with low murmurs and gentle rocking. The tension of the trip almost visibly melted off of him, his eyes and ears softening even as X'sani fussed. G'raha could not remember seeing Rheni more at peace than in this moment.

He was unaware of the smile on his own face until X'kinah leaned towards him.

"He has always been good with babies and little ones," she said. "I should know; he helped bring up me, Irah, Meeko, and our youngest sisters."

"Yes, he has spoken so fondly of that time. 'Tis a joy to see him so."

With Rheni absorbed with X'sani, G'raha lowered his voice to add to X'kinah, "Thank you for coming to see him. It truly means the world to him, and to me."

Her eyes became bright and glassy, and she patted G'raha's hand. "Thank you for taking care of him."

G'raha nodded his acknowledgement, not trusting his voice not to crack should he speak.

Looking around the fire pit—at X'irah and X'meeko excitedly gossiping, at X'kinah watching X'sani in Rheni's arms, at Rheni rocking X'sani—G'raha felt a familiar sensation rise in his chest: