#zayneth

When she stepped inside she looked around. She’d always thought Cael’s bedroom was beautiful, with silk curtains hanging from the walls in rich blues and purples, gauzy cloth softening the light streaming in from the large window next to his bed. Unlike Lydianah’s, his bed was large; big enough for three, truth be told, though it was only in the last year or so that he’d had anyone in it besides himself. She smiled for a moment. She liked her; she was nice, she made Cael happy, and more importantly got him out of the general vicinity of the shop when she was home. A large bookcase was along the wall at the foot of his bed, a wardrobe near the door... and Lyandiel Silverstorm was nowhere to be seen.

She heard a sound coming from his bathroom. Shhhh-shhhh, shhhh-shhhh…

When she rounded into the bathroom and saw her mother, she sighed. Cleaning. Lyandiel had a stiff-wire brush in her hand and she was scrubbing down tile on the shower wall. There was a crutch that she leaned on, and she was up on her good toe as she reached. “You know he’s meticulous about keeping clean, right?” she asked, striding into the room and standing right behind her mother.

“I know,” Lyandiel replied, continuing her rhythmic scrubbing motions. “Lydi-bean, I have to do something. I’m going a little crazy, and the sooner I’m done with all of this the sooner I can get back to life, and the sooner Jericho can stop feeling so guilty.”

“It’s not his fault,” Lydi said with a sigh. Maybe she sagged a little more than she should have when she leaned against the wall nearby. She was so bone-tired, as she had been for months. “Why don’t you stop scrubbing an already clean wall, go sit on the bed, and let me look at your ankle? You know I can help speed it along.”

“I do. And I also know you’re dead tired from speeding it along for two weeks,” she retorted. Regardless, she stopped scrubbing, lowered onto the flat of her good foot, and tossed her scrub brush into the bucket she’d carried over, where it landed with a sploosh.

“And the sooner you’re healed, the sooner I can rest,” Lydi said stoically, watching as her mother carefully picked her way out of the shower. “I love you, Minn’da, and I want to see you get on with your life as much as you do.”

“I love you too, Lydi-bean, and I will.” Andi leaned in with a smile when she was close enough to her daughter to give her a short kiss on the forehead. “But you’re not going to kill yourself for me.”

“Let me look at it, at least. And I bought you your favorite scoo-oone!” She practically sang that last word as she ducked out of the bathroom and waited for Andi to join her. That, at least, made her mother move a little faster.

“Fine. I’ll let you look at my ankle, but only if you share that scone with me.”

“Deal.”

The pair moved to the common area and Lydi deviated to grab the treat and plate it. By the time she got to the couch, her mother was already perched there, her legs up on the cushions. Lydi set the plate down on the tea table. “He’s worried about you, you know,” Lydi said softly, seating herself just beyond her mother’s feet and taking a look at the casting around her foot and ankle.

“I know. And he thinks it’s his fault, which it is not,” her mother replied, sighing. “I wish… I don’t know. He’s been distant, and I don’t know what to do for him right now. You’ve been distant, too.”

“Excuse me? I’ve been up in your face every day!” Lydi protested, settling one hand over Lyandiel’s toes and one hand on her calf, just above her cast. She closed her eyes, settling into that focus that she’d developed and feeling her way through the injury. It was getting there, but there were a few places that were questionable… and so, before her mother could protest, she fed part of herself into it and guided bone and tendon to repair itself.

“Stop, stop, stop!” Lyandiel half-shouted, suddenly leaning forward and peeling Lydi’s hands off of her.

“Minn’da!”

“I told you I don’t want you spending yourself like this! Why won’t you go out and live a little? Call that cute guy you told me about! Unwind a little bit!” Her mother’s voice was fraught with concern, her eyes almost pleading. “Lydi, you’re hiding.”

“I’m taking care of you,” Lydi protested.

“You’re hiding.”

“Trust me, I’d call that cute guy if I thought he was even remotely interested in getting a call from me. I screwed that one up before there was even anything to screw up.” She huffed a bit and looked over at the scone she’d brought with her. She’d have to wash her hands before she even thought about touching it. “I’m doing much more good by helping you recover. Minn’da, you have a life, a man who loves you, and you’re going stir-crazy in here!”

“And you need a life, and people who are not related to you who love you.”

“I have Arandoros. And Se’lysona. I should call them.”

“Yes!” Andi said, throwing up her hands. “Call them! Call anyone! Get out there and live; I want to see my daughter happy and thriving, and right now you’re pushing yourself too hard for me and wilting. I’ll be on my feet again before you know it, and I promise I’ll be careful while I’m working myself back up to full speed. But you need to go out. Have fun. Figure out what you want out of life.”

“You already know what I want out of life.”

“And you’re not going to find it in this apartment.”

Mother and daughter stared at each other for a long time. There were so many things that Lydi wanted to say to her, like, I can’t, I’m afraid, I just don’t have it in me anymore… I’m broken. Instead, she just sighed. “You’re right, of course. I’ll… call someone.” Reluctantly she got to her feet and started toward the kitchen sink to wash her hands and find her com. Then she went and retrieved the bag she’d left by the door, put away groceries, and deposited a pair of books on the table. “For you.”

“Ooh, thank you! Oh! The two most recent Sunspell novels! I’ve been wanting to read these.” Andi grabbed one of them and began reading the back of it. “A human man and his elven friend with a complicated history. There’s something more there, for sure. Oh! Love Eternal, Part 2! It’s out!”

“You and your romance novels, Minn’da,” Lydi teased, and then broke off half of the scone held it up near her face to speak to it in a theatrically sultry voice. “Oh, Master Scone, you are everything I’ve ever wanted! I’ve been so afraid to give you my heart, but none could ever measure up to your baked goodness. Say you’ll be mine forever!” Her mother tossed a pillow at her and she almost dropped the scone, giggling as she snatched it up from certain floor-death. “No, my love! You cannot leave me like this!”

“You’ll be reading them next,” her mother chided as she grabbed the other half of the scone and took a dainty bite.

“Oh, of course! You’d better finish Eternal Love first, though, because I want to find out what happens with the San’layn.” With that, Lydi bit into the scone and hummed her appreciation. “Mmm. I’ll go make that call now so you’ll stop bothering me to do it.”

After parting words were shared, Lydi made her way downstairs and outside of the shop, plopping down on the nearest bench. And thumbing through her comm. She could call Arandoros—she had no clue what he was up to these days and she missed him. She could call Se’lysona—they needed to meet and catch up, and she missed her, too.

Zayneth’s name popped up on the screen and she hesitated. She’d left things on a semi-good note with him… maybe. And they had talked about going on a friend date that had never happened. Oh, what the hell.

She pressed the call button. Waited. No answer. She very nearly disconnected, but something stopped her, and when it came time to leave him a message, she hesitated there as well. “…Hey,” she said, after a couple seconds of silence. “It’s Lydianah. I hope you’re doing well. I know you’re probably busy and I’m sorry I haven’t reached out, but I… well, I suppose I am now. Get in touch if that friend thing is still on the table.” She’d tried to sound cheerful about it, but exhaustion was creeping up on her like a second shadow, and the tiredness was there in her tone. “Be safe,” she said before she hung up, and then leaned forward with her elbows on her knees.

What are you doing? That little voice inside her asked.

“I’m trying to make a friend,” she responded aloud, closing her eyes. If she let her mother see how tired she was, she’d never get her out of the apartment.

Several years ago...

Vy’thanis still had cat hairs caught in the coarse fur on the lower half of his face. Beard. The word was beard. He rubbed the back of his hand against his beard as he unlocked the apartment door with the other hand. Miss Dewblossom’s house on Elder Row had fourteen cats outside this morning and Vyth had to greet each and every one on his way back from delivering newspapers. It was only polite.

He scrubbed at his chin again as he closed the door behind himself with his hip. “Good morning, Zay! I brought oranges and the paper and three stories to tell from the morning walk.” It was still dark in the apartment, but it often was if Vyth had left before dawn to deliver papers. The other occupant didn’t care if there were lights or not. The young man crossed the living room to pull the curtains open. “Hey, I know you don’t think much of it, but you really need to open the curtains in the morning. The warm sun on your face feels good, right?”

The curtain in his hand came tumbling down on his head at a touch. Sputtering, Vyth fought his way free of the curtain and turned around in the room, his teal-green gaze searching the usual spots in the morning sunlight: the chair next to the window, the kitchen floor, the bed and next to it... Where the hell was Zayneth?

Something in the bathroom thumped. The door was closed, but Vyth hadn’t yet been taught about closed doors and bathrooms. He opened it without a thought, hoping to find his roommate on the toilet.

Zayneth was there, but he wasn’t on the toilet.

“ZAY!” His shoes squeaked on the tile as he charged into the room, reaching into the shower. Tawny fingers scrabbled and slipped as he grabbed at the rope which was tied to the shower-head. When he couldn’t get it free, a singular draconic-enhanced heave tore the faucet from the wall. Water sprayed unchecked over both men as Vyth caught his roommate’s body up tight against his chest and lowered the blonde slowly to the tile floor. The familiar damaged face was bright red, like Zay had been holding his breath for a while - but even being new to this mortal business, Vyth knew he hadn’t been holding his breath. It was the curtain rope tied around his neck.

The man in his arms was limp at first, until Vyth started working at the rope to get it off Zay. Then, shaking fingers scrabbled and slapped at his hand, trying to dissuade him from unknotting the loop.

“No,” Vyth growled, slapping Zay’s hand back much sharper. Stunned, Zay stopped fighting as the young man freed him from the sloppily tied noose. “What the hell were you thinking? No! This is not okay!” It was words he usually heard when he’d done something impolite or against house rules, but he didn’t have any more effective words to speak yet. “You can’t do this! This isn’t okay at all!” Carefully, he turned Zayneth as he pulled the rope off, letting the water that had been gathering on his burnt face drain off to the side.

The man in his lap braced his feet weakly on the edge of the shower and tried to throw himself against the tile wall. When his attempt at dashing his brains out was stymied by Vyth putting his own body in the way, Zay fell into Vyth’s lap and sobbed, “Why won’t you let me die?!”

“Because you didn’t let me. Now come on, let’s get you dried off. I’ve got stories for you today.”

“Stories are all I have now,” Zay choked out, his voice cracking on the last word. “I’m useless. Let me die. Let me die...”

“Stories. And the scent of oranges. And the sunlight on your face. And the notes of your guitar. And the touch of my hand. And if you’re not careful, the taste of my toasty-cheese sandwiches.”

The blonde curled in his lap hiccuped on a sob. “Your grilled cheese is awful...”

“See. You have to keep going because there will be bad grilled cheese if you don’t.” Shifting under the cold spray, Vyth did his best to shelter Zay with his body. “You owe me, Zayneth Shadowspite. Life for life. As long as I’m alive, so are you.”

Zay whimpered. “You’re a dragon. That could be forever.”

“Won’t that be an adventure... C’mon. Let’s get out of here. It’s cold and I’m going to start spooning you if this keeps up.” He liked the word ‘spooning’ ever since he learned it; he liked spooning too, for that matter.

“Why...?”

“I said why. If you won’t live for you, then you have to live for me. You owe me.” Vyth stroked back a strand of soaked wheat hair and watched the water puddle against the burnt-out ruins of Zay’s eye sockets. He wanted to dab the water away - knew he would, eventually - but to do it when his roommate was this upset would only spur worse fighting. Instead, he just kept stroking Zay’s hair back. Even as the cold water started to affect his body temperature, Vyth stayed where he was until his roommate’s hiccuped cries stopped, then he guided the blinded man back to his feet and out of the bathroom to dry off.