Calleslyn's trepidation increased as she turned the corner into the street where Messandra lived. All morning, she had been telling herself that nothing would have happened. The undead assault had been focussed on the temples, and, to a lesser extent, on the Rotunda and the city's main markets. Surely Messandra lived far enough away to have been safe?
But what if she hadn't been home? She might have been out shopping, or even praying to Nyrandos, her favoured deity. She didn't even know how the temple to the God of Knowledge had fared, although at least three other temples had suffered badly during the attack. The conviction that something terrible had happened was beginning to gnaw at her. Had she been naïve to dismiss such possibilities earlier in the day?
When she had awoken, after a long and pleasant sleep, the sun had been shining through the window, and the thoughts of her triumphs the night before had put her in a happy mood, unwilling to contemplate any dark thoughts. She had dressed in some of her finest clothes, a white elven dress made of silk, lace, and the softest cotton. The skirts were long, almost trailing to the floor, less practical than her normal clothing, with a tight bodice trimmed in gold, long outer sleeves trailing free from her elbows.
She had even sung to herself as she did her hair, taking extra effort to braid the long golden locks, emphasising the leaf-like shape of her ears. A silver filigree circlet completed the effect, and she had also chosen a fine necklace bearing a small emerald that now nestled on the bare skin just above her breast. She had felt happy to be alive, welcoming a new day, as she so often was after facing the perils of her adventuring career.
Now, though, her mind was beginning to fill with dire possibilities. How could she have dismissed such reasonable fears? The city had not survived unscathed. What if Messandra had been hurt, or worse? The thought was too terrible to contemplate; her heart hammered in her chest as she began to walk more rapidly, a cold sweat of fear forming on her bejewelled brow.
Yesterday she had not been frightened, or at least not like this. There had been brief bursts of fear, yes, but not this soul-destroying dread that clung to her now. Then, she had been fighting for her life, for the life of everyone in the city, and there had been little time to think of anything other than tactics. This was entirely different, an experience almost unknown to her. She almost stopped to offer a prayer to the Lady of the Woods, to Sarlene, to whichever deity might be listening, but she knew that would make no difference now, and her feet carried her inexorably on.
There was the shop, in front of her, Messandra's apartments up above it. It was intact! But what did that mean, really? And the windows were shuttered, the place closed up. That should not be the case at this time of day!
She let out a gasp of concern as she hitched up her skirts and began to run, throwing open the back door and racing up the narrow stairs to the door to the living quarters, urgently banging on the door with her small fist.
It seemed like an eternity later that it opened.
"All right," said Messandra, "what's the… Calleslyn!"
"You're all right!"
"Oh, I was so…"
She didn't give the human woman a chance to finish the sentence, almost throwing herself into her arms. Their lips met in a long, passionate kiss, and it was a while before they pulled free, and Messandra had the presence of mind to shut the door behind them.
"You're all right!"
"I just said that."
"Well, you are!"
"So are you."
They broke into giggles, still folded in each other arms, standing pressed together just inside the entrance to the apartment.
"I knew you'd be in the thick of it. I was so worried."
"I thought something had happened to you."
"No, it wasn't near here."
"But why is the shop closed?"
"Nobody knows if they're going to come back. The city is in a panic. There hasn't been something like this since… since I don't know when. I couldn't possibly open."
"It's over. It's all over. We stopped them. We found who they were, and we stopped them."
"That was you? That must have been dangerous. Oh my gods, were you hurt?"
"No, I'm fine. Really," she trailed a hand through Messandra's brown locks, "and so are you, which is what matters."
They stayed there like that for a while longer, just gazing into each other's eyes, before Messandra finally broke the silence. "You seem almost as glad to see me as I am to see you. And you're the one who has been putting herself in harm's way. Come on in and sit down. I can get you some tea, or something?"
She declined the offer of the tea, but did at least relent from hugging her friend, and took one side of the couch. Messandra sat down beside her, her arm resting around Calleslyn's shoulder.
"Oh, your dress is so beautiful!" she said, apparently noticing it for the first time, "I've not seen that one before. It's so gorgeous, and… oh, is that real silk? It has such a lovely sheen. And look at me; I'm not dressed for visitors at all."
Which was true. Calleslyn knew that her friend had a collection of fine dresses, but today she was casually dressed in a cheap and worn brown sleeveless jerkin over a plain white blouse with a dark, knee-length skirt and leather shoes. Indeed, the elf had never seen her dress so plainly; perhaps with the worry over the disaster in the city, she had just thrown on some old clothes without any real thought. And, yet…
"You're still beautiful," she told her, trailing a finger down the human's cheek, and meaning every word of it. Unprepared, like this, she was still as lovely as Calleslyn had ever known her, the purity of her looks shining through without the need for adornment. "Truly, you are."
She smiled, and snuggled up close to the elf, resting her head on the other woman's shoulder. They stayed like that for a while, silent, hands clasped together between them. It was pleasant, just sitting there, sharing their warmth, and Calleslyn breathed in her partner's scent, luxuriating in the feel of their clothed bodies side by side.
"Calleslyn," said Messandra after a while, "what do we have?"
"How do you mean?" she asked, puzzled.
"Us. What is it between us? I mean…" she sighed, pulling herself slightly up and brushing her long hair to one side. "You're an elf. You'll live for centuries. You… actually, how old are you? If you don't mind me asking."
"A hundred and fifty three."
"Wow." The human's eyes were wide. Then she laughed, half to herself. "I can't believe I never asked that before."
"You know that we live longer than humans."
"Yes, but that's my point. I don't: I am human. I'll have white hair before you're even middle aged. I think."
"Well, don't," she said, softly, "think about it, I mean. That's years away… decades, even. I don't plan on going anywhere."
"Really? You'd stay with me, even when…"
"Of course. Why wouldn't I?" She realised that she had been thinking about it, unconsciously, for a while now. Despite her dalliances with other women – even with a man, if you counted Ornejirhs – she had only ever wanted to be here, together with Messandra. Monogamy did not come naturally to her culture, but perhaps she could even give that a try. She couldn't imagine that she needed anyone else, not the way that she needed Messandra.
"But I'll be old."
"You'll be you. That's what I care about. Remember all those nights we just spent talking? Even before we were… involved. Not that the sex isn't good," she added with a slight grin.
"Oh, goddess, is the sex good…" agreed Messandra with such feeling that they both burst into embarrassed giggles afterward.
Calleslyn calmed herself, straightening her face, and looking into the human's brown eyes again. "You're you. We've been friends for years, and now it's even deeper than that." She leant over, and nestled her head in the crook of Messandra's shoulder, soft brown hair falling across her cheek. She still couldn't quite bring herself to use the word, even though she knew that she should. It made things more real, casting her life in a new direction. "I don't ever want to lose you," she whispered instead, lips brushing against the other woman's neck.
Messandra ran a hand silently over the elf's cheek, tracing the outline of one pointed ear.
"So… until I am old…"
"Even when you are old."
"Yes?"
"Mm hmm."
"Well, while we're waiting for that, then."
"Sounds good to me."