The following is a novelization of play between Lani Jeong (KaylaniXx) and myself. Content contained herein is a collaboration between the both of us. The scene is ongoing, so stay tuned for more!
Vincent sat alone in the dimly lit Red Dragon Inn, his tall and imposing frame draped in dark, elegant robes woven from the finest silks of distant lands. Intricate patterns of subtle golden filigree traced along the hems and cuffs, depicting ancient symbols and arcane runes that whispered secrets of a bygone era. The fabric seemed to absorb the ambient light, giving him an almost spectral appearance amidst the warm glow of the tavern. Above him, the heavy timbers of the ceiling arched like the ribs of a colossal beast, casting deep shadows that danced across his chiseled features as the flames from the crackling hearth flickered nearby.
His piercing blue eyes, sharp and clear like shards of ice, quietly surveyed the room with an air of serene detachment. They missed no detail—the flicker of candlelight reflecting off a polished tankard, the murmur of hushed conversations, the subtle exchange of glances between patrons—but revealed nothing of his own thoughts. A faint scar traced along his left cheekbone, a remnant of battles long past, added a hint of ruggedness to his otherwise refined visage.
In his slender, pale fingers, he held a silver chalice engraved with swirling motifs that seemed to move when not directly observed. The chalice was filled with a dark, crimson liquid that caught and refracted the warm glow of the fire, casting tiny specks of ruby light onto the polished wooden table before him. The rich aroma of spiced wine mingled with the scents of aged oak, burning logs, and the faint hint of rain from the world outside. Around him, the ambient sounds of the inn ebbed and flowed—the clatter of dishes, the soft strumming of a bard's lute in the corner, bursts of laughter, and the occasional thud of a tankard on the bar. Yet he remained still, a solitary island in the sea of activity, as if contemplating secrets known only to him.
Another night among strangers, yet the loneliness persists. How many more centuries will pass before I find a place where I truly belong?
He sighed almost imperceptibly, the weight of countless years pressing upon him like an invisible shroud. Memories of distant worlds and star systems flickered through his mind—vivid images of alien skies, ancient temples, and forgotten civilizations that had risen and fallen like the tides. The burden of his divine lineage and the knowledge he carried were etched into every line of his face, though his youthful appearance belied his true age. Despite the lively atmosphere of the inn, an invisible barrier seemed to separate him from the rest of the patrons. The laughter and camaraderie only deepened his sense of isolation, highlighting the chasm between their fleeting lives and his eternal existence.
They laugh so easily, so freely. When was the last time I felt such lightness? The last time I laughed without the shadows of the past haunting me?
His gaze drifted to the fire, watching the flames dance and twist, consuming the logs with relentless hunger. The fire reminded him of the inexorable passage of time, ever-consuming, ever-changing, leaving only ashes in its wake. He took a slow sip from his chalice, the rich liquid warming him from within but doing little to ease the coldness he felt in his soul.
His thoughts were interrupted when the heavy wooden door of the inn swung open with a creak, allowing a gust of cool night air to swirl into the room. Vincent's gaze shifted, his eyes softening as he caught sight of Lani guiding her little daughter, Harlee, inside. Lani's auburn hair framed her gentle face, her eyes reflecting both the weariness and unwavering love of a devoted mother. She wore a simple yet elegant dress of earthy tones, a satchel slung over one shoulder hinting at errands run and tasks yet to be completed. Harlee, barely more than a toddler, clutched her mother's hand with one tiny fist while the other reached out toward the myriad sights of the inn.
The child's unsteady steps and wide-eyed wonder brought a rare smile to Vincent's lips. He watched as Harlee marveled at the surroundings—the high beams of the ceiling, the flickering lanterns casting playful shadows, the colorful patrons each with their own stories etched into the lines of their faces. Her small hands reached toward the heavy timbers and flickering lights, her fingers grasping at the air as if she could capture the very essence of the place. Her innocent excitement, marked by soft "ooo's" and "ahhh's," filled the air with a warmth that contrasted sharply with the often heavy atmosphere of the Red Dragon Inn.
Such innocence. She sees the world untainted, every moment a new adventure. How I envy that purity of wonder.
Rising from his chair with a graceful fluidity that seemed almost unnatural, Vincent inclined his head toward Lani, offering a polite and knowing nod. His long, silver-streaked black hair fell over his shoulders as he moved, the strands catching the light like threads of moonlight. He focused his attention on Harlee, his usually stoic expression softening as he crouched slightly, bringing himself closer to her eye level. His crimson robes brushed the worn wooden floor, the golden patterns shimmering subtly with the movement.
"What has your attention today, little one?" he asked gently, his voice deep yet carrying a soothing tone that resonated amidst the ambient sounds of the tavern. There was a timeless quality to his speech, each syllable enunciated with care, as if words held power beyond mere communication. A flick of his slender fingers conjured a soft, glowing orb of light, which drifted lazily through the air. The orb shifted colors—from a warm amber to a cool sapphire, then to a gentle emerald—as it floated, leaving a faint trail of sparkling dust like the tail of a comet crossing the night sky.
He felt a pang of longing as he watched the child, her eyes widening in amazement at the floating light. How simple it is for her to find joy in the smallest things. I've forgotten what that feels like. Centuries of burdens have dulled my senses to such delights.
Harlee pointed at the floating orb, her tiny face alight with awe. "Dat?" she exclaimed, her voice filled with pure curiosity and excitement.
Lani smiled at him appreciatively. "She is into everything," she said, her eyes reflecting both affection and a hint of exasperation. There was a softness to her features, a warmth that spoke of kindness and resilience.
Vincent's lips quirked in genuine amusement. "Curiosity is a gift at her age," he said quietly, watching as Harlee tilted her head too far back in an attempt to follow the orb and toppled over with a small "Oof!" A soft chuckle escaped him, but he made no move to intervene, sensing Harlee's resilient spirit as she sat there, unbothered by her fall and more interested in the magical orb.
"Ah, the world can be unsteady at times," he mused, lowering the orb until it hovered just within her reach, its light dimming slightly in response to her tumble. "But she's learning balance, in her own way. Sometimes we have to fall to stand back up again."
If only recovering from my own falls were as simple. Each stumble feels heavier than the last.
As Lani approached the bar and placed her order, Vincent shifted his attention to her for a moment, catching her eye with a thoughtful nod. "You're raising a strong one," he remarked, admiring Lani's calm and patient approach to motherhood. "Her spirit will serve her well."
He extended his hand, the orb floating back toward him and dissolving into a brief flicker of light that scattered like stars before fading. "A little magic to brighten her discoveries," he added with a knowing smile. "But it seems she already sees more than most."
Lani smiled warmly at him as her items were set in front of her—a plate of crisp fries, a frothy milkshake topped with whipped cream and a cherry, and a small bowl of pickles. "She climbed out of her crib at about six months," she admitted, shaking her head in disbelief. "She has started scaling gates... we cannot contain her."
Vincent chuckled softly as Lani shared Harlee's adventures. "Scaling gates that young? She's going to be unstoppable soon," he mused, his eyes reflecting both amusement and a hint of nostalgia. Watching Harlee squish a fry between her tiny fingers before shoving it into her mouth, he climbed back into his chair, an amused sparkle in his eye.
Unstoppable and unburdened. She embodies everything that is free and hopeful in this world.
When Harlee pointed up at Lani, her face scrunched in determination as she demanded, "Peeeeaaaasssss," Vincent couldn't help but smile wider. "Determined and charming. A dangerous combination," he remarked, his voice filled with warmth and a touch of playfulness.
As Lani lifted Harlee onto the bar, settling her safely beside her, Vincent watched the interaction with a soft expression. The usual seriousness that shadowed his features melted away in the presence of their lighthearted moment. "Seems like she's already mastering the art of negotiation," he added, nodding toward the shake that Harlee eagerly reached for. "You'll have your hands full, Lani."
Vincent's attention drifted back to his drink, the crimson liquid now reflecting the vibrant energy of the child nearby. Yet he remained engaged, clearly enjoying the simplicity and joy in this rare, quiet moment. Beneath his amusement, however, a twinge of sorrow stirred within him.
Watching them is like glimpsing a world just beyond my reach—a life filled with love and simple joys. Is that something I'll ever find, or am I destined to wander alone?
Harlee's laughter rang out, clear and bright, pulling him back to the present. She had managed to get a dollop of whipped cream on her nose and was giggling uncontrollably. Lani wiped it off with a gentle touch, her own laughter joining her daughter's.
He envied that innocence, the ability to embrace the world without fear or regret. His own past was a tapestry of mistakes and sacrifices, threads of joy woven with strands of pain. The weight of his divine lineage and the burden of knowledge were chains he could not escape, each link forged from choices made and paths taken long ago.
Lani nodded when he remarked on Harlee's spirit. "We already do," she said, popping a pickle into her mouth with a satisfied smile. Harlee looked at her and squealed, pointing at the pickle. "Dat! Ickews!!"
Vincent watched Harlee's excitement with a fond smile, her mispronunciation of "pickles" bringing a quiet chuckle to his lips. "I sometimes wish my own childhood had been as happy and carefree as most children here," he said softly, a trace of wistfulness in his voice. His eyes flickered briefly with memories long buried—of a time when innocence was still within his grasp—before he glanced back at Lani. "But it's good to see kids filled with so much joy. She reminds me that even in a world of magic and mystery, it's the simplest things that matter most."
My own memories are shadowed, tainted by responsibilities thrust upon me too soon. Would things have been different if I'd known such joy?
"I agree. She definitely appreciates the simple things," Lani replied, handing Harlee a pickle before stealing the shake from her with a playful smirk.
Harlee grabbed the pickle, shoving it into her mouth with unabashed enthusiasm. "Mmmm!" she exclaimed, her cheeks bulging as she chewed.
Vincent smiled softly, watching Harlee's delight as she savored the tangy crunch of the pickle. "It's a rare gift to find joy in the simple things," he mused, his gaze distant yet softened by the scene before him. "I think it's something we often forget as we grow older."
His gaze shifted from the child to Lani, a hint of admiration in his tone. "You've given her a world filled with such moments. It's more valuable than most people realize." He leaned back slightly, still smiling. "Perhaps she'll teach those around her to slow down and appreciate those things again."
Maybe she can teach me as well. Perhaps it's not too late to rediscover some semblance of peace.
"Let's see how much she appreciates her father and me in a few months," Lani said with a gentle smile, a subtle hint of anticipation in her voice. She glanced down briefly, her hand resting on her abdomen in a gesture that did not go unnoticed by Vincent, before looking to the bartender and ordering a slice of rich chocolate cake.
Vincent glanced at her, noting the subtle signs—the way she rested her hand protectively over her belly, the soft glow in her eyes that seemed to radiate from within. He felt a pang of melancholy mixed with happiness for her.
Another life beginning, another circle completing itself. Life moves forward for everyone but me.
When the cake was placed in front of her—a decadent slice layered with dark chocolate ganache and adorned with fresh berries—Lani took a forkful and offered it to Harlee. Harlee shook her head vigorously and pointed at the pickles again. "Ickews!" she insisted, her eyes wide with earnest desire.
Lani laughed softly, handing her a pickle, and the little one took it eagerly. Then, with a mischievous grin, Harlee pointed to the cake, squealing with delight. Lani slid the cake closer to her daughter, her eyes sparkling as she watched Harlee lay the pickle atop the cake with deliberate care before picking up a handful of both. She shoved the unconventional combination into her mouth, grinning at her mother with pure delight.
Vincent raised an eyebrow, suppressing a laugh as he observed Harlee's culinary experiment. "A creative palate, to say the least," he remarked, his tone light and amused. "Perhaps a future culinary visionary—pickle and chocolate cake might become the next great trend."
He glanced at Lani with a knowing smile. "It's remarkable how she finds joy in the most unexpected combinations." As Harlee grinned at her mother, bits of chocolate and pickle smeared around her mouth, he added softly, "It's these moments that will stay with her, even if she won't remember them clearly."
"Nearly a thousand years since I was her age, and the things I remember clearest about my childhood were the silly moments," he nodded firmly, his eyes reflecting a mixture of nostalgia and a hint of sorrow.
But even as he spoke, he felt the shadows of his past creeping in. The memories of a time when he, too, found joy in simple things, before the weight of responsibility had settled upon his shoulders. The laughter of friends long gone echoed faintly in his mind, a haunting reminder of the isolation he now felt.
How many lifetimes have I lived since then? How many more will I endure alone?
"She tried pickles for the first time about a month ago," Lani said, shaking her head with an affectionate smile. "Unfortunately, she has seen me eat them with chocolate cake, so although it disgusts my husband, she enjoys it." She opened a bottle of water and took a sip, her eyes meeting Vincent's over the rim.
Vincent chuckled softly, shaking his head in mock disbelief. "Pickles and chocolate cake... an acquired taste, I'm sure," he teased gently. His smile widened as he glanced at Harlee, still determined to clean the remnants of her treat from her fingers. "It seems she's already taking after you then."
He leaned back slightly, eyes thoughtful as he observed them. "Your husband might object now, but there's something to be said for sharing quirky habits. Perhaps he'll come around, though I imagine he'll need more convincing than Harlee." His gaze returned to the toddler, a spark of amusement lingering. "At least she's adventurous."
Adventure. Once, that word thrilled me. Now it feels like a tired echo of a life long past.
He envied the simplicity of their lives—the love and warmth that surrounded them. His own existence was marked by loneliness, a wanderer drifting through worlds, never truly belonging. The faces he encountered blurred together over the centuries, and he wondered if anyone truly knew him.
"So, Vincent, where are you from?" Lani asked, her curiosity genuine as she took another bite of the cake with a pickle, savoring the unusual combination.
Vincent paused, glancing into his chalice as if weighing his response. The liquid within swirled slowly, mirroring the whirlpool of thoughts in his mind. "Where I'm from..." he repeated softly. His eyes flickered with distant memories—lush forests under twin moons, towering spires of crystal, the hum of ancient magic in the air. "I was born in a place called Oberon, a realm both beautiful and treacherous, but I haven't called it home for many years. I'm more of a wanderer now."
He smiled faintly, though there was a hint of something bittersweet in his expression. "It is a world rich with magic and wonder, though not without its burdens. My travels, though... those have made me feel more a part of everywhere and nowhere all at once." He met Lani's gaze, his smile softening into something more genuine. "There are countless worlds out there, each with their own stories and secrets."
Everywhere and nowhere—that's the essence of my existence. A spectator in the lives of others, but never truly part of them.
"Do you ever go back to Oberon?" Lani inquired, her tone gentle, sensing the underlying melancholy in his words.
Vincent nodded thoughtfully, tracing the rim of his chalice with a fingertip. "I visit from time to time, just as I come to Rhy'Din periodically," he began, his tone calm but reflective. "My people are recovering—slowly, but steadily. I've always believed they need to find their own way, rather than relying on me or my family to simply snap our fingers and fix everything."
He paused, glancing at Harlee as she began to explore the area around her, toddling with newfound confidence. "There's strength in learning from hardship, in building something on your own. It's not easy, but in the end, it's more lasting." His eyes returned to Lani, a hint of earnestness in his gaze. "Don't you agree?"
Lani nodded, understanding the wisdom in his words. "Yes, I do. Growth often comes from overcoming challenges," she agreed, watching her daughter with a fond smile.
Harlee eyed Vincent, taking a couple of tentative steps toward him, her eyes reflecting the swirling colors of curiosity and innocence. His gaze softened as she approached, and he slid out of his chair, lowering himself gracefully to one knee to meet her at eye level. The fabric of his robes pooled around him like a crimson shadow.
"And what is it that you seek, little one?" he asked with a faint smile, curious to see what she might do next. His voice held a gentle warmth, inviting yet respectful of her space.
His fingers twitched slightly, ready to conjure a little magic if it would amuse her, but for now, he waited patiently, letting her curiosity guide the moment. Harlee reminded him so much of the children of distant worlds he'd visited—innocent, full of wonder, untainted by the complexities of life.
In her eyes, I see hope. A future unburdened by the past. Is it foolish to wish for a piece of that?
Harlee took two or three more steps closer, her small feet padding softly against the worn wooden floor. Then, with the unabashed honesty of a child, she lifted her shirt and pointed to her round little belly. "Beebee!" she exclaimed proudly.
Lani nearly fell off her stool, her face turning a shade of crimson that rivaled Vincent's robes. "Oh goodness," she said, sliding her feet to the floor before standing hurriedly. "Harlee... put your shirt down. There is not a baby in your belly." She moved quickly to her daughter's side, her movements graceful despite her embarrassment. As she tugged her daughter's shirt down, it became very clear that Lani herself did have a baby in her own belly, the subtle curve now noticeable.
Vincent burst into a hearty laugh, a rich sound that seemed to fill the room and turn a few curious heads. His usually composed demeanor broke into genuine amusement, his eyes sparkling with mirth. Shaking his head, he waved a hand dismissively. "It's alright, Lani," he said, still chuckling. "Kids will be kids, and they have a way of seeing the world in their own unique way."
His gaze drifted back to Harlee, his smile lingering. "At least she's observant," he added, winking at Lani as she tried to manage her daughter's sudden display. "Though I'm not sure we were quite ready for that lesson today." He gave Harlee a soft shake of his head, clearly entertained by the mother-daughter duo.
Moments like this are fleeting, but they pierce the veil of my solitude. Perhaps laughter is not lost to me after all.
Lani shook her head, her cheeks still flushed. "We have been telling her... so she doesn't jump on me..." she sighed, a touch of exasperation mingled with affection in her voice. "Apparently she is now capable of sharing with others."
Vincent chuckled softly, shaking his head. "Ah, yes. Sharing important news with everyone, whether they ask for it or not—that's a valuable skill," he teased gently, his eyes shining with genuine delight.
"At least you know she's taking your words to heart, even if it's... a bit more public than expected." He glanced at Harlee, still smiling. "But that's what makes these moments memorable, isn't it? She's already learning to navigate this world in her own way, and clearly, she has spirit." He paused, nodding at Lani. "You'll just have to brace for more 'sharing' in the near future."
As the laughter faded, Vincent felt the familiar weight settle back onto his shoulders. The joy of the moment had been a brief respite, a warm glow in the chill of his long existence, but now his thoughts returned to the solitude that awaited him.
I am but a passing shadow in their lives. Soon, they'll move on to new moments, new memories, while I remain anchored in the past.
He sipped his drink, the crimson liquid cool against his lips, the taste rich but unable to fill the emptiness within. The inn buzzed with life around him—the clatter of dishes, the murmur of conversations, the occasional burst of laughter—all blending into a tapestry of sound that felt both comforting and distant.
Perhaps it is my fate to wander alone, an eternal observer. But for now, at least, I can cherish these stolen moments of connection.
He allowed himself to linger a little longer in their company, savoring the echo of laughter and the fleeting warmth it brought to his weary soul. The flickering light of the hearth cast shadows that danced along the walls, mirroring the transient nature of joy in his life.
Vincent observed Lani carefully as she crinkled her nose, a subtle gesture that hinted at a mix of discomfort and contemplation. The dim lighting of the Red Dragon Inn cast soft shadows across her face, highlighting the delicate arch of her brows and the faint flush on her cheeks. "I'm not ready for that," she admitted softly, her voice barely audible above the ambient murmur of the tavern. Her hand moved instinctively to rest on her slightly rounded belly, fingers splaying gently as if to shield the life growing within.
His keen eyes flickered briefly to where her hand lay, the movement not lost on him. The soft fabric of her dress draped over her form, but the telltale curve was unmistakable. He offered a gentle smile, one that reached his piercing blue eyes and softened their usual intensity. His voice was warm, almost soothing. "I had noticed earlier," he confessed, the honesty in his tone evident, "but it didn't seem my place to mention it." He paused for a moment, allowing the words to settle between them. The crackling of the hearth nearby filled the silence, its warmth enveloping them. Meeting her gaze with understanding, he continued, "Now that it's come up... how far along are you, if you don't mind me asking? Harlee seems ready for the role of big sister already."
Another new life entering the world. Families grow and evolve, weaving threads of connection and love, while I remain unchanged, untouched by the relentless passage of time.
Lani smirked, a playful glint lighting up her emerald eyes. The corners of her mouth turned upward in a subtle grin that hinted at both amusement and maternal exasperation. "Or maybe ready to beat up on someone smaller than her," she quipped, a soft chuckle escaping her lips. She hesitated briefly, her gaze drifting downward as if gathering her thoughts. "I am about twenty weeks," she revealed, her hand subconsciously caressing her abdomen in slow, gentle circles. Noting that her figure might suggest she was further along, she quickly added with a hint of sheepishness, "With twins."
Vincent's smile deepened, a genuine warmth emanating from his expression. His gaze softened as he glanced toward her belly, as if sensing more than what was visible to the eye. "The overlapping auras gave it away," he remarked thoughtfully, his voice carrying a note of appreciation for the subtle energies he perceived. "Both have good, strong energy." He paused, contemplating the significance of two new lives entwined with the threads of fate. "As for Harlee, I believe she'll come into her own as a big sister just fine—whether she's planning to be a protector or give the occasional nudge." His chuckle was light, a melodic sound that blended with the ambient noises of the inn. "It's clear she's full of spirit, and I have no doubt she'll find her way in that role, just as she has with everything else."
Twins. Double the joy, double the chaos. How rich their lives are with such connections. Their family grows while I remain an observer, untouched by such bonds.
Lani looked at him thoughtfully, her gaze searching his as if trying to read the unspoken thoughts behind his eyes. "My daughter from another timeline lives with us," she shared, her tone carrying a mixture of wonder and mild bewilderment. The flickering firelight danced across her features, highlighting the sincerity in her expression. "I am pregnant with her. It is so weird." A soft laugh punctuated her words, the absurdity of the situation not lost on her.
He raised an eyebrow, genuine intrigue sparking in his eyes. Leaning back slightly in his chair, he rested his hands lightly on the polished wooden table. "Rhy'Din certainly does have a way of intertwining with the multiverse in the strangest ways," he mused, a hint of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. The ambient chatter of the inn seemed to fade as he focused on her story. "While I don't have any children in any reality that I'm aware of, I can understand how strange it must feel to have a daughter from another timeline living with you."
Time and reality bending in such personal ways. At least her anomalies bring her family, while mine bring only more solitude. The multiverse holds many wonders, but also reminders of what I lack.
"So Harlee loves her big sister, who will also be her little sister," Lani added with a touch of amusement, her eyes gleaming as she pondered the paradox of her family dynamics. The complexity seemed to amuse rather than confuse her, a testament to her adaptability.
Harlee, who had been contentedly playing nearby with a small wooden toy carved into the shape of a dragon, suddenly pointed her tiny finger at Vincent. Her blue eyes met his with innocent curiosity before she bridged the distance on unsteady legs and plopped herself beside him. The soft patter of her footsteps was almost lost beneath the din of the tavern. Vincent offered her a gentle smile as she settled next to him, her presence a warm contrast to his solitary demeanor.
"In any case, the multiverse certainly keeps things interesting," he remarked, his tone light and accepting of the peculiarities that Rhy'Din presented. "And it sounds like Harlee's little—big—sister will make things even more so." He chuckled softly, the sound rich and genuine. Glancing back at Lani, he added, "Perhaps, in time, the strangeness will feel more like... normalcy. At least by Rhy'Din standards."
Their lives are a tapestry of complexities, yet they navigate them with such grace. I wonder if I could ever find comfort in such chaos. They embrace the anomalies of existence, forming bonds where I have none.
Lani nodded, her expression thoughtful. "Yeah. I was very worried we would lose grown Jia when I had baby Jia," she admitted, a hint of past anxiety shadowing her eyes. "But my husband made some kind of deal with someone to protect both of them." She paused, her gaze distant for a moment as she recalled the uncertainty of that time.
Vincent raised an eyebrow, his interest piqued further. "A deal to protect both... that sounds like no small feat," he commented, his gaze steady and probing. "Rhy'Din is full of mysterious bargains, but I'm glad it worked in your favor." His tone shifted to one of gentle caution. "Still, deals like that often come with strings attached." He allowed a brief silence before offering a reassuring smile. "At least for now, both Jias are safe—and that's what matters most." His eyes met hers, the sincerity in his expression unmistakable. "But should it ever come to it, I too have the power to subvert the natural law to allow both to exist in the same timeline." His words were calm, confident—a quiet promise rather than a boast.
Offering aid where I can, perhaps seeking redemption for the times I've been unable to help. Their challenges are personal, yet I feel drawn to assist.
Lani tilted her head, considering his offer. A soft smile curved her lips. "I do not know all the strings attached to my husband's deals. He is a demon and rarely shares them with me." She shrugged lightly, a hint of resignation in her posture. "I had to make a deal with his ex when I had a run-in with her, to protect myself and Harlee. Although she rarely calls on me to do anything." She glanced down at Harlee, who was now absently tracing patterns on the wooden tabletop with a chubby finger. Her hand moved to her belly once more, a protective gesture that seemed second nature. "But I would do anything to protect them. As would my husband."
She sighed softly, easing herself into a nearby chair with a graceful movement despite her pregnancy. The worn cushion sighed under her weight. She held her arms out to Harlee, who happily abandoned her spot beside Vincent to scramble into her mother's lap. Lani's eyes softened as she embraced her daughter, the love between them palpable. "Harlee here, she doesn't need a whole bunch of deals to protect her. Most of Rhy'Din will fight to the death to protect her." A smirk played on her lips. "Even the ones that don't really care for babies would still protect her."
People love this little one, I can see why.
Vincent leaned back slightly, crossing one leg over the other in a relaxed pose. His expression remained thoughtful as he listened. "It seems you've both gone to great lengths to protect what matters most," he observed quietly. The firelight cast a warm glow on his features, accentuating the contemplative crease in his brow. "And in Rhy'Din, deals like that—well, they're not always as clear as we'd like them to be. But sometimes, the intention behind them is all that matters."
After a moment of reflective silence, his gaze drifted past Lani, focusing on a point beyond the walls of the inn as if he were seeing another place entirely. "Your story reminds me of something that happened on a world called Thalia," he began, his voice taking on a distant quality. "I once found myself there, seeking a moment of peace after a particularly difficult battle. It's a beautiful place—verdant forests that stretch as far as the eye can see, mountains that pierce the sky, and rivers that sing as they flow." A soft smile touched his lips. "Though it too has its dangers."
He continued, his tone weaving a tapestry of memory. "I arrived at a village called Yun'ama, a place where the people had an innate but untrained connection to the elements. They could coax plants to grow, summon gentle breezes, but lacked control over their abilities. They were kind, though cautious—a stranger appearing out of nowhere tends to raise eyebrows." He chuckled softly. "It wasn't long before I was helping them, using my magic to calm a wild storm that threatened to sweep away their homes. The skies had darkened, and the winds howled with a ferocity that mirrored the chaos within."
Vincent's gaze softened as he recalled the faces of the villagers. "But what I remember most were the children—innocent, wide-eyed, unaware of the peril that loomed. They trusted in the adults around them, in me, and in their village elder, to keep them safe. Much like Harlee here, they didn't need to make deals or call upon ancient forces. They were protected by the simple power of care, love, and the community that surrounded them."
It's something every child should have. A network of people that love them and cherish them.
He paused, his expression wistful. "After that storm, I helped them learn to control their connection to the elements, to harness their gifts rather than be ruled by them. Together, we spent days by the river, practicing with water and wind, turning potential chaos into harmony. They didn't need to rely on others to protect them anymore—they became strong on their own. But it all started with that same fierce love you have for your family—the determination to protect, no matter the cost."
His gaze returned to Lani, meeting hers with a depth of understanding. "Sometimes, the greatest protection we can offer doesn't come from deals or power. It comes from teaching them how to be strong, to stand on their own when the storm comes." He glanced at Harlee, who was now fiddling with a lock of her mother's hair, and then at Lani's belly. "And I have no doubt that your children will have that strength."
Perhaps through sharing these stories, I can find a semblance of connection—a bridge over the chasm of my own isolation. Their experiences resonate with echoes of my own, yet their bonds are tangible where mine are but memories.
Lani listened intently, her expression reflective as she absorbed his words. Her fingers gently traced patterns on Harlee's back, the rhythmic motion soothing them both. "My husband does some... dangerous work," she acknowledged, her tone measured. "And it can often put our children and myself in danger, without meaning to." She offered a small, rueful smile. "Haru is teaching the boys how to duel and how to use their magic. He has also started working with me to use my magic and duel. Harlee here, we don't want her using that yet, if we can help it."
She smirked lightly, a glint of self-awareness in her eyes. "I am also a little reckless and continue to get myself into bad situations." A soft sigh escaped her lips, a blend of exasperation and acceptance. "I have been close to being killed a handful of times. Twice when Harlee was with me." Her gaze dropped momentarily, the weight of those experiences evident.
Vincent's expression grew serious, his eyes holding a steady, compassionate gaze. "Danger has a way of finding us, especially when magic and power are involved," he said softly. "It's good that Haru is teaching your boys to defend themselves, but I understand your reluctance with Harlee. There's always a delicate balance—protecting them from danger, yet preparing them for it."
He paused, his tone taking on a gentle caution. "As for your recklessness," a faint smile curved his lips, "I've seen it before in others. Just be sure that your boldness doesn't cost you what you're trying so hard to protect." He glanced at Harlee, whose eyelids were growing heavy as sleep beckoned. "Near-misses are warnings, not guarantees."
Her courage is admirable, but I've witnessed the heavy price of unchecked bravery too many times. The scars of loss run deep and are slow to heal.
"I prefer to go and take care of business with my husband," Lani explained, her gaze meeting his with earnestness. "So we were doing a lot of that together." She shifted slightly, adjusting Harlee as the child nestled closer, her breaths becoming slow and even. A gentle smile touched Lani's face as she observed her sleeping daughter. Her sapphire eyes lifted to meet Vincent's again. "Since I've become pregnant with the twins, he won't let me. He worries it is not just my life, but theirs as well." She shrugged lightly. "He isn't wrong."
"Harlee here, she is mostly demon," she continued, her tone matter-of-fact yet tinged with complexity. "The deal made with my husband when we married and conceived her was that I'd become a demon." A soft sigh punctuated her words. "Mainly because birthing her could kill me... but also because he couldn't handle the thought of living forever without me." She glanced lovingly at Harlee. "So this little one, she is 100% demon, but we aren't sure just what powers she will have... I don't think we have fully discovered my powers, because I don't know how to use many of them yet. Harlee will know how to fly... we are hoping not any time soon."
Vincent listened attentively, his gaze softening as he took in the weight of her revelations. The firelight cast a golden hue across his features, highlighting the empathy etched into his expression. "Your husband isn't wrong to be cautious," he acknowledged gently. "It's not just your life anymore—it's theirs, too. But I understand the frustration of being held back, especially when you're used to facing things together. I've... been there..." His voice trailed off, a hint of personal history lingering in the unspoken words.
His expression grew contemplative as he considered her transformation. "Becoming a demon to protect your life and your bonds—it's a profound choice, and not without its complexities." He offered a reassuring smile. "Harlee will grow into her powers, just as you will. In time, you'll both come to understand what you're truly capable of. For now," he gestured subtly to the sleeping child, "perhaps a little patience isn't so bad. Let her enjoy the earth before she learns to fly."
Sacrifices made for love. I've made my own, yet the void remains. Perhaps their path will lead to a fulfillment I've never known. They have each other, while I continue on alone.
Lani giggled softly, the sound like a delicate chime breaking the contemplative mood. "She will become a true Terror Tot once she realizes she can fly," she jested, her eyes sparkling with a mix of humor and mild apprehension. "She already bites and has tantrums unlike anything I have ever seen before. If we put her in her room and close the door, she attempts to claw her way out, ripping her fingertips apart in the process." A sigh escaped her, tinged with maternal concern. "It is most definitely a learning curve for us."
Vincent chuckled softly, his eyes reflecting a shared amusement. "A Terror Tot, indeed," he echoed, the term bringing a genuine smile to his face. "It sounds like she's already testing her limits—both yours and hers. That fierce spirit is going to serve her well, though I can see how it makes for a... challenging time now."
His expression softened as he added thoughtfully, "Learning curves are part of parenting, especially with children like Harlee, who are destined to be extraordinary. She'll need guidance and patience, but in time, she'll learn to control that power rather than be driven by it. Until then, brace yourself."
Extraordinary gifts often come with extraordinary challenges. Guiding her will be crucial to her finding balance. I've witnessed the consequences when such potential is left unchecked.
She grinned, a hint of pride mingling with exasperation. "I have become a pro at knowing where she is and what she needs without her needing to express it. I have also learned how to decipher her language." Her eyes drifted toward the bar, catching sight of something that drew her attention. "Ohh!" she exclaimed softly.
Without hesitation, she lifted her sleeping daughter with practiced ease and moved to set Harlee in Vincent's lap. "Can you hold her?" she asked, though her actions implied she expected compliance.
She didn't wait for him to answer, gently placing Harlee into his arms. The child's weight settled against him, her small form warm and trusting.
Vincent blinked in mild surprise as Harlee was placed in his arms. His instincts quickly guided him to cradle her securely, one arm supporting her back while the other steadied her legs. His posture stiffened momentarily as he adjusted to the unexpected responsibility. The soft fabric of her dress brushed against his hands, and he could feel the gentle rise and fall of her breathing.
Glancing up at Lani with a raised brow, he spoke with a hint of bemusement. "I can't help but wonder, Lani... is it normal for you to just hand your kid off to someone you met only the day before?"
Despite the question, his tone remained warm, and his hold on Harlee was careful and protective. He looked down at the peaceful child nestled against him, her tiny hand clutching a fold of his robe. "I mean, I appreciate the trust," he added with a soft chuckle, "but you certainly didn't give me much of a choice."
He shifted slightly, ensuring Harlee remained comfortable, her head resting securely against his chest. His expression softened as he watched her sleep, the innocence of her slumber stirring something within him. "I suppose I must be doing something better than the old man," he murmured to himself, a subtle smile touching his lips.
Her innocent trust is disarming. Holding her stirs emotions I thought I'd locked away long ago. Perhaps there's still room in my life for such connections.
"You said you don't have children?" Lani offered a gentle smile as she gathered her belongings. "You look like a natural." She paused, considering her next words. "I trusted you because you instantly moved to please her and hold her attention. You got down on her level... you did not seem put off by her..." She began to rearrange her food items, making room on the table. "I can take her back..."
She leaned over to set the milkshake and the cake on the floor beside her chair, the clinking of plates softly punctuating the background noise of the inn. Preparing to rise, she reached out to retrieve her sleeping daughter.
Vincent nodded gently, his eyes meeting hers with a soft gaze. "That's right—I don't have children, but I've had some experience." His gaze drifted momentarily, as if recalling distant memories. "More often than I'd like, I find myself consoling children who've lost their parents or siblings in conflicts I've intervened in. It's something no one should have to do frequently."
He offered Lani a faint smile, tinged with a hint of sadness. "I was mostly joking about it. Humor... well, it's something I'm still learning to master." His expression grew distant, the weight of past experiences shadowing his features. "I see Elara and Milo in every child," he finally said, his voice quiet. "Two children I once knew while saving their kingdom from invaders. I had the privilege of knowing them, albeit briefly."
He took a slow breath, his gaze unfocused as he continued. "When I returned to check on them, nearly a hundred years had passed in a blink. They were old and grey, but in the time I was away, they'd done great things. They told me I'd inspired them without knowing it, and they waited... waited for my return before passing on. They wanted to see their childhood hero one last time." His voice was soft, laced with reverence and a touch of melancholy.
Time slips away, leaving me behind. Connections fade, but the loneliness endures. I walk through centuries while others live and die in moments.
She smiled gently, watching him as he became momentarily lost in his memories. "She is pretty comfortable with you," she observed softly.
Noticing her movement, Vincent began to lift Harlee carefully, ready to return her to her mother. Lani stepped forward, her arms extending to take her daughter back. She shifted Harlee so that the child's head rested against her shoulder, the little one instinctively nuzzling into the familiar embrace. Lani settled back into her chair, cradling Harlee with practiced ease.
Lani met his eyes again, her gaze filled with understanding and kindness. "I think it is really cool that you are someone's hero," she said sincerely. "And even cooler that they waited to see you..."
Vincent smiled gently, a hint of gratitude softening his features. "It's kind of you to say," he replied quietly. "But I've never really thought of myself as a hero. I just do what needs to be done."
He paused, then chuckled lightly, the sound easing the somber mood. "In my universe, they call me The Aetherwalker—a man who comes with the light to drive away the darkness. A bit dramatic, if you ask me." His smile lingered for a moment before fading into thoughtful contemplation. "There's an old saying, though, across many worlds and universes: 'With great power comes great responsibility.' I take that seriously. It's not about being a hero. It's about doing what's right because it needs to be done, even when no one's looking."
His gaze shifted to Harlee, watching the peaceful rise and fall of her breathing. A softness entered his eyes. He added softly, "That's all any of us can really do."
Perhaps through these small moments, I can find a piece of the connection I've been missing. Maybe I'm not as alone as I believe. In their company, the weight of solitude feels a little lighter.