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[indent][indent][indent][indent][justify][color=808080]By the time the two of them made it back to Rae’s cabin, the worst of the arena’s grit had finally begun to lose its grip on the day. The walk there had been quieter than the obstacle course, but not empty, filled instead with the soft sounds of wet shoes against packed earth, the occasional breathless laugh over some shared indignity, and the strange, delicate comfort of simply [i]being[/i] in one another’s orbit after everything. Rae had disappeared upstairs not long after, armed with the kind of single-minded purpose only someone dusted in half the arena could possess. Zelia had been left in the lower level of the Hephaestus daughter’s cabin, where warmth hummed through the air in a way that felt different from the rest of camp, less like sunlight, more like the steady exhale of machines at rest, like metal that remembered fire even in stillness. It was not unpleasant. It felt, in its own way, like stepping into the heart of something alive.

She had settled herself into the living room of Rae’s floor with an ease that surprised her, one leg tucked beneath her, the other stretched out just enough to ease the ache that had settled into her calves after the day’s endless running and climbing. Somewhere in the cluttered, quietly ingenious sprawl of the room, she had found a book and, naturally, it had been the sort of thing that could only have belonged to Rae. Its cover was worn in the corners, its pages softened by use, and its contents were a labyrinth of diagrams, notes, and impossibly dense explanations about mechanical systems that Zelia only half understood. 

Something about torque distribution, maybe. Or maybe gears. She had no real idea. But she liked the feel of it in her hands all the same, the faint scent of paper and oil and graphite rising from the pages, and the sense that this, too, was a kind of intimacy, holding something that mattered to Rae, even if she could only decipher every fourth sentence.

The room itself seemed to breathe around her in low, quiet sounds. Somewhere deeper in the cabin, pipes ticked as hot water ran through them, and every now and then there came the distant metallic clink of something settling, like the building itself was adjusting its bones. A nearly empty water bottle sat on the low table beside her, its plastic slightly dented where her fingers had idly pressed it, condensation long since faded. She looked comfortable in spite of the day's events, cheeks still a little flushed from exertion, hair no longer perfectly tamed but falling in softer, messier curls around her face, the kind of disarray that made her seem younger and carefree.

She had been reading, [i]trying[/i] to read, at least, but her eyes had drifted over the same paragraph three times now, not because the words were beyond her, but because her mind kept slipping elsewhere. Back to the arena. Back to the rope. Back to the pool. Back to the strange and impossible way the day had folded in on itself until something that should have been humiliating and exhausting had become, somehow, one of the warmest things she had felt in a long time. There was still a lingering soreness in her muscles, a deep and satisfying ache that would likely bloom into something crueler by morning, but it felt worth it in a way she couldn’t quite explain. She had helped. Rae had let her. And perhaps that mattered more than she knew what to do with. 

So when the sound of footsteps came from the stairs, light but unmistakable, Zelia’s attention lifted at once.

She looked up from the book, a finger tucked between the pages to hold her place, and the smile that crossed her face arrived with immediate, effortless brightness. It lit her features from the inside out, easy and warm and entirely unguarded, as if Rae’s presence alone had pulled the sun back into the room. Her gaze moved over her for a brief second, taking in the clean clothes, the absence of arena dust, the unmistakable relief of someone no longer quite as miserable, and something in her expression softened with fond amusement.

[color=EBCEED]“You look significantly less wrung out now,”[/color] she said, voice light with teasing, though the warmth in it made the words feel almost tender. She shifted a little on the ground, angling herself more fully toward Rae as she closed the book over her thumb. 

Rae had taken what could only be described as a morally necessary shower. In other words, the kind where you stood under the water for an extra minute after you were done only because you could. So, by the time she stepped out, the heat had done its work on her, turning her skin pink and tender at the shoulders and softening the ache in her muscles. She then towelled off and changed into the first clean things her fingers could find: white jeans, a soft pink off-shoulder top, and pink socks to match, because why break a streak? Cold outside meant she probably should have grabbed something warmer, but the chill had never bothered her the way it bothered other people. Her internal temperature regulation had its uses, even if those uses mostly consisted of making questionable wardrobe choices without immediate consequences. She threw a light knit cardigan over it anyway, more out of habit than necessity, and dragged a hand through still-damp hair on her way out the door.

Once she reached the stairs, the redhead could say she felt approximately seventy percent human again.  Even so, she had not been prepared for the book. 

Rae stopped on the second-to-last step, one hand on the railing, the rest of her going very still. 

It was the mechanical systems volume from the lower shelf. She’d recognized it immediately with its cracked spine and the corners softened from years of being carried and occasionally dropped. There were also, she knew, the pencilled annotations in the margins that she'd stopped being embarrassed about somewhere around page forty, when she'd realized the notes were for her and her alone. Zelia held it with the sort of attention that suggested genuine effort, her finger tucked between pages to hold a place.  Something small and unfamiliar stirred in Rae's chest at the sight. Something that made her want to look away and keep looking in equal measure.

She finished descending the stairs instead of standing there like a statue.[color=#3b9ae1]"That one's brutal even if you know what torque is,"[/color] she said, dropping onto the couch with the easy looseness of someone finally and blessedly clean. She nodded toward the shelf beside the window. [color=#3b9ae1]"The map's over there, when you're ready."[/color]

Zelia somehow brightened even further at Rae’s voice, as if the room had gained another lamp just by virtue of her sitting down near her. The smile she turned on her was almost immediate, warm and unguarded, still carrying the easy softness that had settled over her since they’d left the arena. [color=EBCEED]“I understood about every five sentences,”[/color] she admitted with a small, sheepish laugh, lifting the book slightly before setting it down with almost ceremonial care on the coffee table. Her fingertips lingered on the cover for a brief moment, as though she instinctively recognized it as something precious, even if its inner workings remained mostly a mystery to her. [color=EBCEED]“The notes helped, though.”[/color]

The comment came lightly, almost offhand, but there was something sincere tucked inside it, a quiet appreciation not just for the book, but for the glimpse it offered into Rae herself. The penciled notes in the margins had felt intimate in a strange, lovely way, like overhearing the shape of someone’s mind when they thought no one was listening. Zelia didn’t say that aloud. Instead, she reached for the map where Rae had indicated, tugging it closer and unfolding it across her lap with the kind of focused seriousness that made her look momentarily younger. Her brows drew together, lips pursing just slightly as she squinted down at the maze of lines and labels, studying it as if it might reveal some hidden test if she stared hard enough.

[color=#3b9ae1]"Huh,"[/color] Rae said, which was not the most articulate response she'd ever produced. The annotations were the paper equivalent of thinking out loud, messy and associative and deeply uninterested in being understood by anyone else. So, the idea that they'd been useful to someone was a stranger feeling than she'd expected.

For several seconds, the room went quiet except for the rustle of paper and the soft hum of the cabin around them. Zelia’s finger hovered, darting once, then twice, before finally settling with quiet certainty on cabin 42. It sat back against the forest, tucked away from the water in a way that eased something instinctive in her chest, and not [i]too[/i] far from Rae’s cabin either. Not inconveniently close, she told herself. Just… practical. After a moment, the map shifted beneath her hand, magic sliding into place until her name settled over the cabin like it had been waiting for her all along.

Zelia stared at it for a beat and then looked up at Rae with a grin that returned in full force, bright enough to rival the soft lamp glow of the room. [color=EBCEED]“I’m actually pretty excited to see what it’s like,”[/color] she admitted, the words carrying that familiar, airy honesty that made everything she said sound a little more vivid. [color=EBCEED]“I hope it’s not too small… or too big.”[/color] She wrinkled her nose faintly at that, as if both possibilities offended her in equal measure.

Rae glanced down at where Zelia's name had settled over cabin 42, then back up.[color=#3b9ae1]"Good news,"[/color] she said, [color=#3b9ae1]"it's probably not small. The gods seem more than willing to give us whatever cabin suits us best, apparently."[/color]

Zelia’s smile came easily, small at first, then brightening into something warmer, softer, threaded through with a kind of pleased amusement she didn’t bother to hide. [color=EBCEED]“That’s convenient,”[/color] she said lightly, though the words carried a little more satisfaction than they probably should have, her fingers brushing once over the edge of the map before she looked back up at Rae with that same sunlit expression.

Then, with a burst of energy that seemed entirely unfair after everything they had put themselves through, Zelia bounced to her feet.

It was almost absurd how alive she still looked; tired, yes, there was no hiding the faint flush still clinging to her cheeks or the subtle heaviness in the way she rolled her shoulders, but there was still a spring in her movements, a bright current running just under her skin. The long day hadn’t drained her so much as reshaped her into something softer and more open, loosened at the edges in a way Rae was quickly beginning to learn meant comfort. Zelia smoothed her hands over her thighs, glanced once toward the door, then back to Rae, and her smile gentled into something just a little more hopeful.

[color=EBCEED]“C’mon?”[/color] she asked, the invitation simple, but warm in the way only she seemed capable of making it. [color=EBCEED]“Let’s go see if I accidentally picked a treehouse or a mansion.”[/color]

Rae looked at her for a moment. The day had wrung them both out completely, and yet there Zelia was, on her feet and pulling the room forward with her like she couldn't help it. She shook her head, but she was already standing up and moving to the door herself. 

[color=#3b9ae1]"If it's a treehouse,"[/color] she said, [color=#3b9ae1]"I'll just help you build a proper staircase if there isn’t any, that’s all."[/color] Though the comment did also make her wonder how those two options fit Zelia specifically. She supposed the treehouse matched somewhat with how they’d met, with Zelia up in that tree. But a mansion felt wrong, all that empty square footage and grandeur, nothing like someone who quoted philosophers over breakfast and meant every word of it. Neither option, honestly, quite accounted for the way her friend moved through the world, that particular combination of warmth and lightness and maybe a bit of whimsy. Ok, a lot of whimsy.

Zelia laughed softly at that, the sound bright and warm as candlelight. Her smile curved wider, touched at the edges by something almost unbearably fond, as if the offer itself had settled somewhere tender inside her chest and decided to stay there awhile. [color=EBCEED]“That’s exactly why being around the corner from you feels like a very smart decision.”[/color]

Zelia was halfway to the door before she paused, fingers brushing the handle as though the thought had only just caught up with her. Turning slightly, she looked back over her shoulder at Rae, and for one fleeting moment there was something almost shy in the softness of her expression, even as her smile remained bright. Her gaze flickered over the pale pink of Rae’s top, the cardigan, her socks, the way the color made her seem… brighter, somehow.

[color=EBCEED]“Pink suits you,”[/color] she said lightly, though the words landed with a strange, gentle sincerity. [color=EBCEED]“It makes the red in your hair even prettier.”[/color] Then, as if she hadn’t just dropped the compliment into the room like a pebble into still water, she turned back toward the door with all the easy grace in the world, though the small smile tugging at her mouth suggested she was perhaps just a [i]little[/i] too pleased with herself.

Rae opened her mouth. [color=#3b9ae1]"Your — you also have — "[/color] she started, then stopped, then made the executive decision to abandon the sentence entirely before it could get any worse. Heat climbed the back of her neck. She could reverse-engineer anything. Except, apparently, a basic compliment returned in real time.  

After donning her boots, she pulled the door shut behind her a little more firmly than necessary.[color=#3b9ae1]"Let's just go,"[/color] she muttered.

Rae’s flustered, half-aborted sentence lingered in the cold air between them like something delicate and bright, and Zelia did absolutely nothing to save her from it. If anything, she seemed to come alive under it, her smile turning almost unbearably sunny as she fell into step beside her with an extra spring in every movement. There was a soft, breathy laugh she bit back behind her teeth, but it still shone in her eyes all the same, warm and wicked in the gentlest possible way. [color=EBCEED]“Mhm,”[/color] was all she said at first, entirely too pleased with herself, though she did nearly veer them in the wrong direction before catching herself with a little startled blink and correcting course with a sheepish grin. [color=EBCEED]“Okay, [i]now[/i] let’s go.”[/color]

True to Rae’s words, the walk was not far at all. The snow crisp air carried that late day hush that seemed to settle over camp once the worst of the chaos had burned itself out, and their shoes crunched softly over the path as the cabins gave way to the edge of the forest. It was only a few turns later that Zelia slowed, then stopped entirely, her breath catching so sharply it felt almost audible. 

There, nestled against the rise of the earth as though it had been grown there rather than built, was cabin 42, and it looked like something stolen straight out of the Shire. The roof curved in a smooth, arc beneath a dusting of snow, blending into the hillside so naturally it seemed the land itself had decided to shelter her; a sweet little wooden picket fence enclosed the front, and beyond it at the cabins center sat a massive round green door set into pale stone and warm brick, framed by smaller circular windows like watchful eyes. It was whimsical in a way that should have felt ridiculous and instead felt impossibly perfect, like a storybook had decided to become real just to see her smile.

[color=EBCEED]“It’s amazing,”[/color] she gasped, the words spilling out of her in a rush of pure, unguarded delight.

Rae thought about the way Zelia had moved through the obstacle course. The bounce in her step even when her lungs were surely burning. The way she'd stood at the edge of a pool she was terrified of and stayed anyway. She was soft on the outside but stubbornly present underneath. [color=#3b9ae1]"Yeah,"[/color] she said after a moment. [color=#3b9ae1]"And it tracks."[/color]

Before she could even think better of it, Zelia caught Rae’s hand in her own, her fingers a little cooler from the winter air, the other girl’s palm noticeably warmer, a contrast that sent a strange little thrill through her, and tugged her forward with all the urgency of someone afraid the house might vanish if she didn’t reach it fast enough. They stepped through the picket gate, snow crunching underfoot, and Zelia’s heart was pounding so brightly in her chest it almost made her lightheaded. Up close, the round door was even lovelier, carved from heavy wood painted a rich mossy green, the iron hardware dark and elegant against it. When she pushed it open, it swung inward with surprising ease, and the warmth that greeted them felt immediate and golden, as if the house had been waiting with its lights on. 

The entryway opened into a space so beautiful that Zelia actually went still for a second, caught in that rare and fragile silence that only came when wonder hit too fast to name. The interior was all warm, honey colored wood and curved architecture, every line soft where most cabins would have been sharp. Thick beams arched overhead like the ribs of some sleeping, benevolent creature, framing the space in graceful sweeps of polished timber, and sunlight, or perhaps lamplight made to mimic it, spilled across smooth wooden floors that gleamed like amber. Everything rounded gently into itself, the doorways, the windows, even the way the walls seemed to curve instead of simply stand, making the entire cabin feel less like a building and more like a burrow dreamed up by someone who understood comfort on a sacred level.

Zelia wandered inward almost reverently, her feet suddenly feeling too clumsy for a place like this, before hastily removing her shoes near the door. The living room drew her first, and she moved toward it with the slow, dazzled pace of someone exploring a treasure trove. A great stone fireplace dominated the wall, its broad mantle framed by thick wooden supports, the stone itself dark and textured and old-looking in the most comforting way, as though it had been there for centuries waiting to hold winter at bay. In front of it sat a plush pale sofa, soft and curved and inviting, angled just so toward both the hearth and the wide windows that let in a wash of gentle light. [color=EBCEED]“Oh, this is [i]perfect,[/i]”[/color] she murmured, half to herself, half to Rae, smiling as she imagined sinking into the couch and never leaving again.

Rae stepped inside after Zelia and stopped just past the threshold. Her gaze moved the way it always did with things that caught her interest, following not just the logic of the structure but the obvious intentionality put into it from floor to ceiling and back again. It reminded her of something she'd written in the margins of her mechanical systems book, late at night when the theory had stopped being about machines. That the best engineering wasn't the kind you noticed, but the kind that made you feel something without knowing why. She’d written the idea at a point in her life when most of what she’d built, she’d built alone, and she'd needed to believe that the work itself could carry meaning even when no one else was there to notice it. 

She thought about Zelia reading it. Every five sentences. The thought sat uncomfortably in her chest, neither flattering nor unwelcome. [color=#3b9ae1]"The construction on this is actually insane,"[/color] she said, mostly to herself. Then she registered Zelia's face and amended, twirling a slightly damp strand of hair around her finger, [color=#3b9ae1]"It's perfect. I mean. Yeah."[/color]

Zelia lit up so quickly it was almost visible, as if someone had struck a match behind her ribs and the flame had gone dancing through every soft corner of her. She turned toward Rae fully then, abandoning the fireplace and the couch and every other wonder the cabin had to offer with startling ease the second the other girl said something [i]technical[/i] about it. Her excitement sharpened into something bright and eager, the kind that always seemed to make her feel a little lighter on her feet, and she gave the faintest bounce on her toes before catching herself, though not enough to hide it entirely. [color=EBCEED]“Is it?”[/color] she asked, the words warm with genuine delight, like Rae had just handed her a second gift she hadn’t expected. [color=EBCEED]“Tell me what you think about it?”[/color]

There was something achingly open in the way she looked at her then, curious in that wholehearted way Zelia always seemed to be, as if Rae’s thoughts were not just interesting to her but precious. She stepped a little closer without seeming to realize it, hands folding loosely behind her back as she tipped her head and waited, her smile softening from dazzled wonder into fond attention. The cabin still glowed around them in honeyed wood and quiet warmth, but for the moment Zelia seemed far more interested in watching Rae see it than in admiring it herself. If anything, the place had become even lovelier simply because Rae had found a reason to marvel at it too.

Rae opened her mouth, then closed it again. It wasn't that she didn't have thoughts. She usually had too many thoughts, half-organized and ready to go. The load distribution on the arched beams alone could have carried a ten-minute conversation without any effort on her part. It was the way Zelia was looking at her, waiting as if Rae's answer was the part of the room she'd been looking forward to the most. Rae couldn't remember the last time someone had looked at her like that when she was about to talk about load paths, you see.

[color=#3b9ae1]"Okay,"[/color] she said finally, a little slowly, as if she was still making up her mind. Then she pointed upward at the nearest beam junction. [color=#3b9ae1]"See where those meet? That's—"[/color] She stopped. Started again. [color=#3b9ae1]"Sorry. Is this actually interesting to you, or are you just being nice?"[/color]

Zelia blinked at her, and the look that crossed her face was so openly, almost sweetly puzzled that it made her seem younger for a moment, her brows drawing together, her mouth parting just slightly as though the question itself had caught her off guard. She stood there in the warm golden hush of the cabin, hands still tucked loosely behind her back, and tilted her head in that quiet, birdlike way she had when she was trying to understand something that felt obvious to her but apparently not to anyone else. [color=EBCEED]“You’re interested about it,”[/color] she said slowly, as if laying the logic out piece by piece might help Rae see it too. [color=EBCEED]“So I am too. It’s not things I would notice on my own, so…”[/color]

She trailed off for a second, shifting her weight from one foot to the other, and something softer moved through her expression then, something a little bashful, almost vulnerable, like the admission mattered more than she wanted it to. Her gaze dipped briefly toward the floor before finding Rae again, her smile smaller now, gentler, touched at the edges by shy sincerity. [color=EBCEED]“I thought it would be fun to learn,”[/color] she finished quietly, shoulders lifting in the tiniest shrug, as though she was embarrassed by how simple and honest the answer was. [color=EBCEED]“Especially if it’s you teaching me.”[/color]

[color=#3b9ae1]"Okay,"[/color] Rae said again, then made a very deliberate point of looking back up at the beam junction as if it had suddenly become the most important thing in the room. [color=#3b9ae1]"So. The beams."[/color] She pointed upward. [color=#3b9ae1]"Where they meet at the top, that's a mortise and tenon joint. Whoever built this cut the wood to lock into itself, which means the whole structure is held together by its own geometry."[/color] A pause. [color=#3b9ae1]"A human carpenter would spend weeks on joinery like that. The fact that a god just… did this instantly, like it was nothing…"[/color] It was a little annoying. 

[color=#3b9ae1]"It's really good work."[/color]

Zelia’s gaze followed Rae’s hand immediately, her eyes tracing the beam junction with the kind of focused fascination that made it clear she was really trying to [i]see[/i] what Rae saw. She hummed softly under her breath, nodding once, then again, as if each new piece of information was slotting carefully into place somewhere inside her. The way Rae spoke about it made the wood above them feel less like part of a ceiling and more like a living puzzle, something elegant and deliberate and quietly miraculous. [color=EBCEED]“Probably frustrating,”[/color] she commented lightly, still looking up rather than at Rae, her voice gentle with a thread of dry humor woven through it. [color=EBCEED]“Makes me wonder how much they could do to help mankind… and they just… don’t.”[/color]

Rae was silent for a bit, still looking at the beams. Then, she exhaled slowly, something unspooling in her chest.

[color=#3b9ae1]"You know, my dad showed up once to me. The only time, really, he ever did. Fixed something I'd been fighting with for hours in about four seconds, handed me a map about this place, and left."[/color] Her voice was flat like she was reading from a transcript she'd long since memorized. [color=#3b9ae1]"He never once asked if I was okay or explained anything to me. But then, there's this. Someone built this to be exactly right for you. And I don't know what to do with that, both those things being true at the same time."[/color]

For a moment, Zelia didn’t answer at all. Her gaze stayed lifted toward the beams where Rae had pointed, but it had gone distant somehow, no longer seeing the joinery above them so much as looking [i]through[/i] it, into some place older and colder and harder to name. A strange little crease formed between her brows as something half-buried stirred— rain on pavement, a funeral awning, a book clutched too tightly in small hands, a man in a dark suit with familiar eyes and a voice like distant thunder. 

The memory came not in pieces so much as impressions. The smell of wet concrete, the bite of wind, the low rumble of a storm, and a sentence she had spent years trying to convince herself she had imagined because it was easier than believing it had really happened. When she finally spoke, her voice was quiet, almost careful, like she was testing each word before letting it exist. [color=EBCEED]“I think I… met my father once as well,”[/color] she said after a beat, still looking up at the beam as if it might somehow help her hold the thought steady. [color=EBCEED]“I don’t know. He… he didn’t tell me it was him, but he came to my mother’s funeral, and he was the one who told me the lightning likes when I read to it.”[/color]


A small smile touched her mouth then, but it looked wrong there, too sad, too full of old ache to be called happy, the shape of it more memory than joy. Her fingers curled lightly around her own wrist, grounding herself in the warm hush of the room instead of the rain-soaked ghost of another day. [color=EBCEED]“I guess it is something to think about,”[/color] she murmured, and this time she lowered her gaze from the beams and turned it toward Rae, searching her face with that same open, earnest softness that always made her seem incapable of looking halfway at anything. [color=EBCEED]“That our fathers know us better than we know them, and even with all that distance… they still try to give us something that suits us.”[/color] Her eyes lingered on Rae’s for a long moment, warm and sad all at once, as if she was trying to find the shape of the contradiction there and failing gently. [color=EBCEED]“I don’t really know what to do with that either.”[/color]

Rae was quiet while she looked at Zelia's face and actually saw it. The smile that had been wrong. The fingers curled around her own wrist.

[color=#3b9ae1]"Your mum's funeral,"[/color] she said finally, gently, as if she was handling something she didn't want to drop. She didn't follow it with anything practical or philosophical either. Instead: [color=#3b9ae1]"I'm sorry about your mom,"[/color] because what else could she possibly say to any of that?

Zelia hesitated, and for one awful, fragile second it looked like something else might come out, something heavier, something more truthful than she was willing to give in the moment. The words rose fast enough to catch in her throat, jagged and impossible, and with them came the sudden, sick curl of fear that if she said them aloud, if she handed Rae that ruined, ugly thing, she might watch her step back and never come close again. The thought alone sent something cold and mean unfurling through her chest, and so she swallowed it down hard, burying it where it had always lived. 

[color=EBCEED]“Thank you,”[/color] she said softly instead, her voice quieter than before, frayed at the edges in a way she couldn’t quite smooth over. She drew in a short breath, and the lie that followed tasted bitter enough to make her want to flinch. [color=EBCEED]“I…it was a long time ago. I barely think about it anymore.”[/color] Her eyes slipped away before she could make them hold to Rae’s.

Rae nodded, slowly, taking that at face value in the same way she took most things people told her directly. [color=#3b9ae1]"If you say so…"[/color] she said, reaching up to rub the back of her neck.[color=#3b9ae1]"The lightning liking when you read to it….that's pretty cool, I guess."[/color]

Zelia’s smile softened at that, something quieter settling beneath the brightness, like the echo of a memory she didn’t fully trust but couldn’t quite let go of either. Her fingers brushed absently along the edge of the counter, tracing nothing in particular as she let out a small, almost thoughtful hum. [color=EBCEED]“Yeah… I think so too,”[/color] she said gently, her voice carrying that same distant warmth, like she was half-listening for something just out of reach. [color=EBCEED]“It feels like… being heard, even when you don’t know the language yet or how to speak it.”[/color]

Rae didn't have an answer for that one. Not a real one anyway.  She'd been noticed before. People had told her she was smart, and had watched her work with something adjacent to awe. But it was the kind of attention you give a machine performing exactly as designed and, in that way, Rae came to realize that noticed and heard weren't the same thing. Not even close. One was observation. The other was... what? Recognition? An acknowledgment that the person beneath the competence actually existed?

The words to explain this sat just out of reach, however, so Rae nodded once and left it at that. 

From there, Zelia led Rae toward the kitchen, and if the living room felt like a hearth, the kitchen felt like the home’s heartbeat. It was tucked beneath more of those sweeping beams, with all-carved-wood cabinetry and warm stone counters, and a little island at the center that looked as though it had been shaped from a polished tree trunk. The windows above the sink were tall and softly curved with delicate, almost elven framing, letting in the silvered light of the snowy afternoon in a way that made the whole room glow. 

Copper accents gleamed here and there, on the fixtures, on a deep sink, in the gentle shine of hanging lamps, and there, just beyond, was a back door tucked neatly off the kitchen as if the cabin had already decided Zelia would someday step outside with tea in hand to watch the trees. [color=EBCEED]“It has a [i]back door,[/i]”[/color] she said, delighted in the specific, almost ridiculous way only she could be, as though this were somehow proof the house loved her already.

She followed the curve of a rounded hallway next, trailing her fingertips lightly along the wall as she went, marveling at how every corner refused to be harsh. The bedroom at the end looked like something from a fairy tale, a great circular nook built into the wall itself, with the bed tucked inside it like a secret, framed by warm wood and soft linens that made it seem impossibly cozy. It felt protected somehow, cocooned, the kind of bed that promised the sort of sleep where nothing could touch you. Just beyond, the connected bathroom gleamed in pale tile and polished warmth, elegant in the same softly whimsical style as the rest of the home. 

The sink stood like a sculpted copper basin, the mirror above it framed in ornate gold, and even the shower walls carried delicate decorative inlays that made the whole room feel more like a hidden bathhouse than something practical. Every part of the cabin seemed to understand beauty and comfort in equal measure, and Zelia had the absurd, sudden certainty that if she lived here long enough, she might accidentally become the sort of person who baked bread for no reason.

At last, she turned back toward Rae.

There was a kind of vulnerable hope in her face then, woven through all the delight, her eyes bright and wide and almost childishly earnest as she searched the other girl’s expression. Her hands folded loosely in front of her for all of half a second before one lifted to brush a strand of hair behind her ear, betraying the nervous little flutter underneath all that joy. It was ridiculous, maybe, how much she suddenly cared whether Rae liked it too, as though the cabin would somehow feel less magical if the wonder wasn’t shared.

[color=EBCEED]“Well?”[/color] she asked softly, though the smile already threatening at the corners of her mouth made it clear she could hardly contain herself. [color=EBCEED]“What do you think?”[/color]

Rae looked around the bedroom one last time, then back at Zelia, then at the round door still visible down the hallway, then at Zelia again. [color=#3b9ae1]"I'm genuinely starting to wonder,"[/color] she said, a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth despite everything heavy that had come before, [color=#3b9ae1]"if you're actually a hobbit."[/color] 

Zelia’s grin came quick and bright, the kind that always seemed to arrive all at once, lighting up her whole face until it felt impossible to look anywhere else. A soft laugh spilled out of her, airy and warm, and she tipped her head just enough for a loose strand of hair to slip across her cheek before she tucked it back. [color=EBCEED]“I might be too tall for a hobbit,”[/color] she said, her tone lilting with amusement as she wiggled her eyebrows at Rae in a way that was entirely too pleased with itself. [color=EBCEED]“Maybe an elf… or I could settle for some strange and eccentric wizard.”[/color] The second eyebrow waggle was even more dramatic than the first, exaggerated to the point of absurdity, and the look she gave Rae afterward was positively luminous with mischief.

Rae considered this with the gravity it deserved. [color=#3b9ae1]"Wizard doesn't track,"[/color] she said, crossing her arms. [color=#3b9ae1]"Wizards are mysterious and withhold information in, like, almost every story that I’ve read that has them. Like Gandalf knew Frodo's ring was the One Ring for years and just sat on that knowledge. And then when he did show up, when he felt like it, he spoke in riddles instead of just saying the thing."[/color] She gave Zelia a look. Okay, yeah, she knew Gandalf only did that to give others the chance to act on their own volition. But still. 

[color=#3b9ae1]"You, on the other hand, told me your entire philosophy on yin and yang within hours of meeting me."[/color] Rae paused, then added, almost as an afterthought: [color=#3b9ae1]"And yes, I do read things that aren't textbooks. Occasionally."[/color]

Zelia stared at her for half a heartbeat, and then something in her expression simply [i]lit[/i], not just amusement this time, but genuine, sparkling delight, as if Rae had casually revealed some secret treasure she’d been hiding in plain sight. Her smile spread slow and helpless and bright, warmth blooming across her face until it seemed to soften every line of her. [color=EBCEED]“You’ve read Lord of the Rings,”[/color] she said, and somehow the words came out sounding less like a statement and more like a small, astonished gift. There was laughter in her voice, but also something gentler tucked beneath it, something fond enough to make her glance away for the briefest second before looking back at Rae like she’d become even more fascinating all at once.

She stepped a little closer without seeming to notice she’d done it, her curiosity blooming warm and easy in the golden quiet of the room. [color=EBCEED]“What other books do you like?”[/color] she asked, tilting her head, eyes bright with interest. [color=EBCEED]“If you’ve read Lord of the Rings and The Hobbit, I feel like there has to be more hidden in there. Maybe something like Narnia… or The Secret Garden…?”[/color] Her smile turned soft and playful at the edges, almost shy beneath the teasing curiosity.

[color=#3b9ae1]"Narnia, yes,"[/color] Rae said with the immediacy of someone who didn't have to think about it. [color=#3b9ae1]"Though I spent a lot of time as a kid being annoyed at the internal logic. Like, the rules kept changing depending on what the plot needed. I still read all of them though, like twice."[/color] She hadn't read The Secret Garden. She didn't mention that. [color=#3b9ae1]"Ender's Game, His Dark Materials, the first two more than the third. And…"[/color] She stopped. Started again. [color=#3b9ae1]"There's this series. Murderbot Diaries. All Systems Red is the first one, if you’ve heard of it?"[/color] Her expression flickered with the mild self-consciousness of someone who'd just said something they weren't sure would be understood. [color=#3b9ae1]"You probably haven't read it."[/color]

Zelia’s grin returned in full, quick and bright and a little triumphant, as if every title Rae offered was another hidden door swinging open. There was something almost endearingly pleasing in the way she listened, the way her expression shifted with each name, interest at Narnia, recognition at Ender’s Game, curiosity at His Dark Materials, and then outright delight when Rae said Murderbot Diaries. [color=EBCEED]“I [i]have[/i] read Ender’s Game,”[/color] she said, unable to keep the small note of pride from slipping into her voice, as though she’d just proven something important. [color=EBCEED]“Not His Dark Materials, though… but Murderbot?”[/color] A soft laugh escaped her, warm and pleased and threaded through with genuine surprise. [color=EBCEED]“I [i]love[/i] Murderbot Diaries. I’ve only read through the third one though, Rogue Protocol. So if you spoil anything after that, I’ll be forced to dramatically hold it against you.”[/color]

[color=#3b9ae1]"Huh,"[/color] Rae said, which was the second time today that word had been the most articulate response she could produce. [color=#3b9ae1]"Okay, that's. Yeah. Good."[/color] She crossed her arms. [color=#3b9ae1]"I won't spoil anything, but I will say that if you think Rogue Protocol was good, you're not prepared for what comes after."[/color]

Zelia shifted a little where she stood, her smile softening into something more thoughtful as she glanced toward the bedspread again, fingers brushing absently against the edge of the duvet before she looked back to Rae. [color=EBCEED]“I got really into classics for a while, too,”[/color] she admitted, and there was a quiet fondness in the words, the sort that came from old comforts revisited often enough to become part of you. [color=EBCEED]“The Secret Garden, A Little Princess… that kind of thing. Books that feel a little bit like stepping into somewhere softer than the world for a while.”[/color] Her gaze lingered on Rae for a moment longer than necessary then, warm and open and almost shy beneath it all. [color=EBCEED]“You keep being much more interesting than I originally accounted for, you know.”[/color]

Rae stared at her for a second, mouth slightly agape. She also took in how close they were, instinctively taking a small step back. [color=#3b9ae1]"You're—"[/color] she started, then stopped, then tried again. [color=#3b9ae1]"You're also very— I mean, from what I can tell you're—"[/color] She stopped again, making a small, frustrated sound. [color=#3b9ae1]"You make it look so easy! Like earlier, with the pink suits you thing. You just said it like it was nothing. And now this."[/color]

She sighed, staring at a point somewhere past Zelia’s shoulder. 

[color=#3b9ae1]"You're interesting too."[/color] 

Warmth rose into Zelia’s cheeks so quickly it felt almost unfair, a soft bloom of pink that made her duck her head as though the floorboards had suddenly become fascinating. For all her easy words and bright smiles, something about hearing it from Rae, stumbled over, wrestled into existence, honest in that awkward, earnest way that made it feel all the more real, left her feeling absurdly shy in a way she hadn’t expected. 

Her fingers lifted almost automatically to tuck a stray curl behind her ear, a small, grounding motion, while the smile that found her mouth was gentler than before, softer at the edges, touched through with something warm enough to ache. [color=EBCEED]“Thank you,”[/color] she murmured, and her voice came out quieter than usual, like the moment itself had asked for softness. Then she glanced back up at Rae through her lashes, eyes bright and tender and just a little too fond to be entirely safe. [color=EBCEED]“I wouldn’t say it’s easy, really… I’m just being honest.”[/color]

Rae looked at the light pink that crept from Zelia’s cheekbones to the tips of her ears, then at the way a single curl had tucked itself behind her ear, dislodged and then forgotten. And finally, at her eyes, which were, frankly, not helping the situation she hadn’t meant to cause.

She cleared her throat. 

[color=#3b9ae1]"I mean…"[/color] A pause, during which Rae mentally scrapped three different sentence starters and found none adequate. [color=#3b9ae1]"That makes it harder, is what I mean. For people like me. Who have to draft things internally before they come out?"[/color] Her inflection rose at the end, turning the statement into a question, as if seeking validation for the very concept of having a brain that worked this way. [color=#3b9ae1]"If that makes sense?"[/color]

She shook her head, then stopped, something clicking into place. [color=#3b9ae1]"Actually,"[/color] she said slowly, [color=#3b9ae1]"that might be the most hobbit thing about you. ‘Cus hobbits just sorta say what they mean without being all strategic about it. They invite you in, and they feed you, and they tell you you're welcome without making it all complicated."[/color] She let the observation hang there, realizing only after she'd said it that it sounded like a compliment. Which, she supposed, it was. The kind of compliment you gave someone when you'd run out of ways to say ‘I like how you exist’ without actually saying those words, which Rae absolutely could not say, because that would be insane, and hadn’t she said enough incomprehensible flapdoodle today? Yes. Yes, she had.

Zelia listened with the kind of stillness that was never empty, only full of attention, of the quiet delight she seemed to take in every strange and lovely corner of Rae’s mind. As Rae stumbled through the shape of the thought, revising it aloud in real time the way she claimed she usually did only in private, Zelia’s expression softened by slow degrees, the blush still warm across her cheeks, her dark eyes fixed on the other girl as though none of it was awkward at all. If anything, it seemed to charm her more, the carefulness of it, the way Rae reached for meaning like someone building it by hand. And when the comparison finally landed, hobbits and honesty and welcome and all the unspoken tenderness tucked inside it, and something in Zelia’s face gave way entirely, her smile turning small and luminous and a little helpless, like she had been handed something fragile and precious and didn’t quite trust herself not to break it.

[color=EBCEED]“I think it makes perfect sense,”[/color] she said softly, her voice warm enough to feel like part of the cabin itself. [color=EBCEED]“And for what it’s worth… I don’t think there’s anything wrong with drafting things first.”[/color] Her gaze dipped briefly, then rose again, gentler now, threaded through with that subtle ache of fondness she was beginning to carry around Rae without fully knowing what to do with it. [color=EBCEED]“I think… some people are fireplaces,”[/color] she murmured, the words arriving like a thought she hadn’t planned to say until it was already there between them. [color=EBCEED]“Warm all at once, loud and bright. And some people are lanterns, built carefully, lit with intention. You don’t like them any less because they’re different.”[/color]

Rae opened her mouth. The analytical part of her brain, which was usually the loudest part, had several things it wanted to say about the metaphor. About thermal output differentials, technically speaking, and how lanterns were actually more efficient than open fireplaces in terms of directed light, and how that was an interesting distinction to draw because—

None of that shit came out.

What came out instead was: [color=#3b9ae1]"That's…yeah, okay."[/color] 

Still smiling, Zelia turned back toward the bed as though the room itself had tugged her attention away again. Her fingertips brushed over the duvet in an almost absent, reverent glide, and she immediately slowed, the humor softening into quiet delight beneath her skin. The fabric was absurdly soft beneath her hand, silk smooth on the surface, but with a plush, thick warmth underneath that promised it would swallow winter whole and never let the cold touch her once she was beneath it. [color=EBCEED]“Oh…”[/color] she breathed, the single syllable carrying more awe than a full sentence might have.

Only when she looked closer did the pattern reveal itself, subtle enough that it hid in the shifting light unless you were searching for it. Swirling across the pale fabric were delicate, embroidered designs in the softest shades of blush pink and baby blue, fine curling vines that unfurled into fantastical blossoms, tiny crescent moons tucked between petals, little stars scattered like they had fallen from the sky and decided to rest there instead. Here and there, nestled in the pattern, were the faint outlines of winged creatures no bigger than a hand, something between butterflies and fairies, all gossamer wings and elegant curves, stitched so delicately they almost seemed ready to flutter free if she stared too long. 

Zelia smiled to herself as she traced one of the embroidered spirals, her expression turning soft and dreamy in a way that made her seem to belong to the room as much as the room belonged to her. [color=EBCEED]“Okay,”[/color] she murmured, glancing back at Rae over her shoulder with eyes full of playful certainty, [color=EBCEED]“Maybe the cabin [i]is[/i] trying to make a case for hobbit.”[/color]


[color=#3b9ae1]"Told ya,"[/color] Rae said, with the quiet satisfaction of someone who had been right and was going to let that speak for itself without making too big a deal of it.

Zelia grinned at her over her shoulder, the expression bright and helpless and entirely too pleased, as though Rae’s quiet little [i]told you[/i] had settled into her chest somewhere warm. Then she began to backtrack toward the kitchen in that same absent, drifting way she seemed to move when curiosity had hold of her, fingertips brushing along the smooth curve of the hallway wall as she went. The cabin seemed determined to keep offering her little wonders, and she followed them with the eager reverence of someone afraid to blink and miss one. By the time she reached the kitchen again, her smile was still lingering on her mouth, soft and sunlit.

She opened a cupboard first and let out a startled little noise when she found shelves already stocked, neat and full as though someone had prepared for her long before she’d ever stepped through the door. Glass jars of flour and sugar sat beside little tins of loose-leaf teas, dried chamomile and mint and something floral she couldn’t immediately place; there were boxes of pasta, sacks of rice, [i]multiple[/i] jars of honey with honeycomb, preserves in jewel bright shades of blackberry and apricot, cheeses, breads, canned vegetables and fruits in glass jars, and a row of spices labeled in elegant script. Another cabinet held crackers, oats, dried fruit, granola, and even little wrapped sweets tucked in a ceramic bowl like the house itself had decided she deserved treats. When she tugged open the refrigerator, the surprise only deepened. Fresh fruit gleaming in the crisper, little cartons of eggs, butter, cream, soft cheeses, leafy greens, herbs bundled in damp paper, cuts of meat wrapped in browned paper, a loaf of fresh bread, and an absurdly pretty assortment of drinks tucked into the door. Sparkling water, fresh juice, glass bottles of lemonade, milk, and even what looked like chilled herbal tea already brewed. [color=EBCEED]“That’s fancy,”[/color] she hummed, eyebrows climbing higher and higher as she took it all in, her tone touched with delighted disbelief.

She glanced back at Rae then, one hand still resting on the fridge door, and something softer returned to her expression, playful and threaded through with a quiet sort of hope. [color=EBCEED]“If you want to hang out while I shower,”[/color] she said lightly, though the invitation carried more meaning than the casualness of it tried to suggest, [color=EBCEED]“I could try my hand at cooking for us after?”[/color] Her smile curved a little wider, eyes flicking back toward the pantry like she was already imagining the possibilities. 

[color=EBCEED]“Nothing too ambitious,”[/color] she added with a breath of laughter, [color=EBCEED]“But I think between all [i]this[/i] and my questionable confidence, I could probably make us something decent.”[/color]

[color=#3b9ae1]"I can help,"[/color] Rae counter-offered, then immediately felt compelled to add: [color=#3b9ae1]"Fair warning, though, my cooking track record is, uhh, [i]not[/i] great."[/color] She leaned against the kitchen island, folding her arms on its surface and then resting her chin on them. [color=#3b9ae1]"I can follow instructions and I won't burn anything — literally, fireproof — but creatively in the kitchen, I'm basically useless."[/color] She tilted her head, considering. [color=#3b9ae1]"I was really lucky to have the roommate I had back in college. All I can say there."[/color]

Zelia’s grin came quick and bright, immediate as sunlight breaking through cloud cover, and she leaned lightly against the opposite side of the island like Rae’s offer had delighted her far more than it probably should have. The image of Rae solemnly following recipe instructions with the same intensity she gave structural beams was apparently too charming for her to resist, because a soft laugh slipped free before she could stop it. [color=EBCEED]“Then I guess this will be our next great adventure,”[/color] she said warmly, eyes sparkling with that easy mischief that always seemed to find its way back to the surface around her. [color=EBCEED]“Cooking with limited practical skill and reckless optimism.”[/color]

Then her nose wrinkled in exaggerated offense as she looked down at herself, at the lingering evidence of the obstacle course still clinging to her in the form of sand, damp hems, and general post-training misery. [color=EBCEED]“But first, I absolutely have to shower,”[/color] she declared, the words carrying the grave seriousness of someone addressing a true emergency. [color=EBCEED]“I’m pretty sure I’m done with sand for the rest of my life.”[/color] And yet she was still smiling when she said it, bright and amused and so thoroughly alive in the warm kitchen light that even her dramatic disgust couldn’t quite hide how happy she was.

[b]End of Part 5 of 6[/b][/color][/justify][/indent][/indent][/indent][/indent]

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