#[ selena's backlog is EMBARRASSINGLY long ]

[fluxrspar]

He takes a step forward, and it is unexpected—except it is not. The echoing of footsteps ring against ancient stone, and when he wraps his arms around her, draws her close to his chest: it has been over a year, she recalls, and her arms can only return the gesture, holding tighter and tighter—so as to eliminate any chance of the moment slipping away like sand in an hourglass.

She lets go when Duessel does—always: she is mindful of social norms, of not overstaying her welcome. All the same, it feels as if no time was spent at all; that they could only be distant, separated by shattered earth and sifted soil; that their old method of normalcy could no longer be.

But that isn’t true. It is in her bones—that much still had to be done, but this was not the end of they two. (That fluorspar would flow through the cracks; that obsidian would make it whole.) She does not break his eye contact, only listening in determined silence.

“Yes.”

Of course. It had not sounded to be a question—and indeed, it was not one. Granted the opportunity to reconnect, Selena could only choose to accept: to deny would be to lie—to them and to herself. (It was never a question.)

“Of course,” and a smile breaks through, silly and relieved. “I would love to.”

Grado, and its shifting soil—a steady foundation grown weary and unstable. It is a tumultuous land, never satisfied; never complacent; but though the earth rends itself and breaks and shatters, it always comes back together again. Her people are not disheartened by mere cracks in the earth.

They rebuild, and they are stronger for it.

“Thank you, General Duessel,”—and it is said with her whole heart—“for everything.”

For remaining my friend.

—Fin.

through cracks in the earth