Dark Divide ✓ [WLW]

Chapter Seven - Trust is a Finicky Thing

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𝐄𝐕𝐘𝐋𝐘𝐍 𝐓𝐔𝐆𝐆𝐄𝐃 𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐃 with a hearty pull, concealing as much of her face as possible. She was wearing Vareia's mask, though the fabric was itchy, and she'd almost ripped it off her face multiple times when it rubbed against her skin in the wrong way. Vareia had profusely apologized, but Evylyn was just happy more of her identity could be kept a secret.

She was glad glowing eyes weren't considered out of the norm for Astanians, because she knew, even without a mirror, the lavender of her eyes was enough to softly highlight her red skin. Without seeing the imprints of her bones, she doubted anyone would recognize what she was–or who–but she didn't want to take any chances. Much of her walking had been conducted with her eyes shut and Vareia unhelpfully guiding her with delayed verbal responses.

"Don't look so nervous, Ev," Vareia said, looking up as her chubby cheeks and full lips spread in an animated grin. "We'll change this town soon enough!"

And she'd be lying if she didn't say her stomach was churning with every trepid step she took. Every time her leg moved, she was reminded of why she hadn't visited Ensceas any time recently; they wanted her dead, and she couldn't change that. She didn't want to change it, on some level. That amount of change was both terrifying and practically improbable.

"Yeah," she replied absentmindedly, gnawing on her lip. "I thought you said this Eaxnae lived on the outskirts."

"He does," Vareia said before taking a sudden sharp right. Evylyn nearly tripped over her feet as she skidded to a halt and followed Vareia, mumbling a string of curses under her breath.

Ensceas was... pretty when Evylyn could stop and look without someone shouting at her from behind about a bounty. It was a cluster of tight corners and dimly lit alleyways, with brick houses crowding the streets and the faint smell of burnt runespowder in the air. In terms of crime, it wasn't nearly as bad as some of the other cities Evylyn had visited, but she wouldn't be surprised if she left the city and her wallet had somehow been snatched from her purse.

She straightened her spine as Vareia knocked against the door. It didn't look like a blacksmith's house, but Evylyn supposed his business could have been further into the city.

After a moment of Vareia tapping her feet against the stone floor and smiling, and Evylyn waiting with clasped hands, the door swung open. Evylyn had to crane her neck to meet the eyes of the man; a burly, bushy-bearded hulk with tanned skin and piercing yellow eyes the same shade as the fire flickering in his forge further into his house. An... unconventional place to keep a forge, but Evylyn supposed she wasn't judging.

"Eki'na!" Vareia said, and if Evylyn thought she looked silly standing next to Vareia, that feeling was doubled seeing her next to this Eaxnae.

Eki'na tilted his head ever so slightly, and the soot marks smeared across his rough skin shifted as he frowned. He was soon smiling, however, as clear realization dawned on his face. Before Evylyn could blink, he'd scooped Vareia up and twirled her in the air.

"Vareia, my old friend!" he bellowed, and despite the deep baritone of his voice, his tone was as bubbly as Vareia's. "How have you been?"

As he gently set Vareia down, the Cimibil rubbed the back of her neck with a sheepish smile. "I've been good. That, uh, forest retreat was a miracle, really. Remember that?"

"That was... what, three hundred years ago?" Eki'na asked before laughing, a hearty, resounding sound that echoed throughout his large house. It was scarcely decorated, though Evylyn supposed having too much furniture around would be a fire hazard.