Lil Sketch

Lil sketch

A thought on the IV. Tether lore

"Trust is built, Drifter," Eris said, "and you have taken the first step."

He was pensive. The movement of the coin over his knuckles stopped. She continued.

"I have found," she said, her words measured, "that one is grounded by honesty. Not only in oneself, but with those around you."

He heaved a slow, hard breath.

"I don't know if I can," he said, his voice small.

"Yes. Honesty is a supplication," Eris said. "We ask to be seen. We are made vulnerable… but it is necessary to be treated with care."

He has been honest, and in return she treats him with care 🥺

The growth between them is one of the things which makes their lore and relationship so beautiful. Two hurt and broken souls, finding solace and companionship in one another after suffering through severely traumatic events- it is what they both deserve after fighting so hard for so long. And now, they no longer have to fight alone- they finally have someone they can truly trust and fully rely on to hold one another up and support each other.

Another thing I loved about the moment in season of the Witch was when Eris asks him if he came to urge caution, he just says, "Nah. you know what you're about." that shows true trust. He does not doubt her, even through her taking on the form of an enemy race and running the risk of falling into the temptation of Darkness- he trusts her.

This just goes to show, they are in this to win it. If they proceed to go through with their relationship, that just shows and means that they truly love one another, and they are the missing puzzle piece each has been searching for for so long. Neither person would just rush into a relationship willy nilly, if they go through with this, it just shows how much they've grown in one another and how much they truly love each other.

Anywho, that's my Eris 'n Drifter talk, hope y'all enjoyed it (if anyone wants to discuss Eris and Drifter lore and such, absolutely feel free to send me a text- I'm always in the mood to discuss them)

Soft lil late night smoochy sketch hehe

What about a fic where the Drifter gets Eris a pet rat for company while he's away and she names it after him.Extra points if there is some whacky hijinx where the rat gets away and causes mischeif! 😂

Awww him getting her a lil pet rat is such a sweet idea 🥺🐀 Thank you so much for the request, I hope you love it!!

When Eris had first awoken that morning, it seemed as though it would be just another average day. She had no plans made, there were no enemies of humanity to go up against at the moment, many Guardians were already patrolling the Moon for Hive. Which left Eris with the menial task of reading and paperwork- which she did not much mind.

  But to her surprise, when Eris walked into the little cramped kitchen of her work place, she found something unexpected upon her table.

  It was an animal carrier. Eris frowned as she approached it, seizing the slighly wrinkled piece of paper which had been taped atop the carrier.

  The handwriting was messy. It looked as if someone with poor penmanship had attempted to write neater, which elicited a smile from Eris, who know had a guess as to who the letter was from even before she had seen it.

Hey Moondust, gonna be out for a while today Thought I'd leave you somethin' for company so you won't get lonely without me Hope you love it, and I'll try and send you a call tonight, alright?

  -Love, G

P.S. reach your hand out and the little guy will come right up to you

  Eris looked curiously toward the carrier, reaching out a cautious hand to open the door. She peered inside, leaning closer and bringing her hand in front of the entrance.

  A moment later, something darkly colored with a long pink tail rushed out, taking it's place in Eris's palm and looking up at her with gleaming black eyes.

  "He... left me a rat...?" Eris asked aloud, staring down at the calm little rat with great surprise.

  The rat squeaked up at her before sniffing around her hand, likely just as surprised as she was to see a strange newcomer.

  Something else in the carrier caught the corner of Eris's eye. She looked into it once again, reaching inside with her free hand to grab a little plastic bag of what appeared to be chopped up pieces of broccoli and apples, along with a piece of nibbled on paper taped to it which read,

  And here's some treats for him so he'll know your his owner :)

  Eris frowned. I have a rat now...? She thought, finding herself happily surprised by how well the creature was behaving as he countinued to sit atop her hand.

  "You will need a name, won't you, little one?" Eris asked the rat, gently sliding him off her hand and onto the table surface. She proceeded to un-stick the plastic bag, reaching in and grabbing a piece of the green broccoli with two fingers.

  "Would you like this, little Drifter?" She offered it to the curious rat, watching him crawl up to her.

  The rat gently took the broccoli in his teeth, rearing up on his hind legs. He then dropped the broccoli into his little pink hands and began nibbling the green stalk.

  "Yes, you like broccoli, don't you?" Eris allowed herself a rare moment to smile down at the little fuzzy creature.

  But the rat sped across the table as soon as he finished his broccoli, catching Eris by surprise while he climbed up atop one of the many books beside them. The rat sniffed at it for a quick moment before swiftly walking up to one of the edges and knawing at it.

  "No, Drifter!" Eris exlaimed, reaching to grab him, but missing as he ran off the book and to the other side of the table.

  She traced a gloved finger along the now chewed and awkwardly sticking out part of the book edge with a frown before reaching to grab a piece of apple from the bag. She attempted to make her expression look more relaxed as she offered the piece of fruit to the rat, who then sniffed at it, took it from her hand, and began chomping down.

  "I have no knowledge of how to care for rats," Eris sighed out. She reached up to her earpiece, hoping she could call the Drifter for some explanation or assistance, but instead of his voice she merely got silence from the other end. She sighed again, tossing the rat another piece of broccoli.

  Eris began putting her mind to work, looking around the cramped kitchen for anything she could use to make sure the rat didn't ruin any more of her possessions.

  That will work she thought as she walked across the room, grabbing the large rations crate she had retrieved from last month. She dumped out the remaining old food packets atop the counter before bringing the box over to the table, setting it atop a chair where she could easily look down into it.

  Eris then reached into the zip lock bag, baiting the rat closer with another chunk of brocoli. The rat let out a squeak when she grabbed him, lowering him carefully into the crate.

  She dropped him another piece of broccoli. "there, there, little Drifter... this is for the meantime while I figure out what to do with you."

  She turned away, slipping off her gloves as she leaned over the kitchen counter and grabbed a kettle. She filled it with water and set it atop an oven eye to heat.

  Why would he give me a rat? She thought to herself as she stared down at the kettle. And what am I supposed to do with it? I do not have the time to care for a creature.

  These thoughts countinued on throughout Eris's head until the kettle erupted with a shrill whistle. She poured in her water, grabbed a spoon, and began stirring in the honey and cream for her tea, her mind elsewhere in thought until something whiskery flicked across the back of her hand. She snatched her hand away and jerked her head towards the thing that had touched her- to her surprise, it was the rat. He pointed his head up to sniff at her, his little sharp teeth showing.

  "How did you get out?" Eris asked him, not expecting an answer from the rodent.

  She scooped the rat into her gloveless hands, being once again surprised by the rat when he sped up her arm at lighting fast speed. The rat crawled atop her shoulder, leaning over to sniff her face before crawling into her hood and finally settling down.

  Eris stayed there, unmoving, her glowing eyes wide with shock as she felt the rat curl up against her neck.

  Will he bite me if I move? She wondered, moving her arms stiffly. But instead of the sharp bite of teeth, she felt the rat's whiskers tickle against her skin.

  "Little rat..." Eris tried through stiffled laughter. "Please come out," she reached a hand into her hood, her fingers meeting the rat's soft fur.

  As much as Eris tried to gently persuade the rat out of hiding, he would not come. He only continued to rest against her, falling into a gentle sleep.

  Eris sighed. "Fine. Rest, little Drifter."

  She once again retrieved her tea, bringing it back to her face and taking a sip as she weighed her options.

  She could force the rat off of her, risking angering him and possibly getting bit. Or she could let him rest where he was and attempt to go about her day as normal.

  "I suppose you may stay, little rat," she murmured, deciding on option two as she grabbed the rat's bag of treats and left the kitchen, entering into her private study.

  The room was somewhat large, crammed full of Hive artifacts and ancient tattered books. Yellowed papers were scattered across the table and desk, strange glowing things hung around the room, giving it an eerie feel. A lamp sat in a corner, illuminating the space with it's warm light.

  Eris approached her desk, sitting in the hard wood chair and setting the plastic bag atop the surface beside her. She could hear the rat sniffing around from inside her hood, likely noticing the bag of treats, but still not willing to come out.

  Eris delicately opened the old book in front of her, gently leafing through the pages until she got to where she was meant to be. She began reading, translating the Hive letterings and signs, and writing her findings on a skein of Hive leather beside her.

  She murmured under her breath what she read, trailing a finger across the page, careful not to smear the ink.

  She continued on like that for some time, writing with neat precision, until she finally noticed; the rat was missing.

  She brought her head up, looking left and right across the desk surface, hoping she would see the little rodent she had begun to grow fond of. She pushed her chair back and stood, running her eyes across the floor.

  "Little rat?" She called, bending to look under the desk. "Little rat, where are you?"

  A dark grey blob caught the corner of her eye, she jerked towards the table, seeing the rat atop it with something green in his mouth.

  My jade coin Eris though, trying to pull a smile onto her face.

  "Little rat," she said, attempting to lull the rat with a soothing voice. "Please return that, it is quiet valuable to me," she slowly approached the table, bending towards the rat.

  But once she got close enough, the rat ran, speeding across the room and slipping behind a bookshelf.

  "How...?" Eris groaned, barely managing to slide her own hand behind the shelf.

  She stood, circling to the other side of the large piece of furniture and peering behind it as best she could, hardly managing to make out anything. She then made a sweep of the room, looking under things and peeking above surrounding shelves, searching behind books and papers and artifacts, but she found no rat anywhere.

  When finally she knew she had to give up, she plopped into one of the hard seats, leaning her elbows on her knees and hiding her face in her hands.

  "I lost him..." she mumbled under her breath, her arms and legs aching.

  She massaged her brow, hoping to ease the headache that just began to throb. She stood after a moment, heading back to the kitchen and setting on the kettle once again.

  "Today has been ineffectual." She said to herself, preparing her cup of tea and taking a sip.

  Just as she was reaching up to attempt another call to the Drifter, a flash of dark grey whizzed across the floor. Eris looked down, locking eyes with the rat. He returned her stare, his little black eyes glued to Eris's three green ones.

  At that moment she finally remembered the words from the Drifter's letter. It is worth a try, I suppose, Eris thought, kneeling down and slowly extending her palm. A moment later the rat was on her arm once again, sniffing happily as he looked up at her.

  "You little pain," Eris said, affectionate and tired. She got up and sat at the kitchen table, setting both the rat and her cup of tea atop it. "Now, little rat, where did you put my coin?"

  The rat merely ran across the table to her cup, reaching up and sniffing at it.

  "No, that is mine," Eris grabbed the mug by it's handle, keeping it away from the rat's curious self. Little Drifter then turned his attention to Eris's Ahamkara rock, running up and sniffing it instead.

  "No, don't-" Eris reached out, but was too late to catch the rock.

  It rolled off the edge, bouncing loudly against the floor with a cringe worthy ring.

  "How am I suppo-" Eris's annoyance was interrupted by a knock on the door.

  Eris grabbed her rock and the rat, putting him on her shoulder as she approached the door. She punched in the code and opened it to see a smiling Drifter.

  "Hey, Moondust!" He greeted as he walked in. "How you likin' your little friend?"

  "I may just slap you, do you know that?"

  "What?" His expression reflected genuine astonishment. "Why?"

  "This rat has caused me to waste most of my day by running off and hiding, he has stolen the jade coin you had given me, he just now rolled my Ahamkara bone off the table- need I go on?" She huffed.

  "I thought he'd make you happy!" The Drifter defended. "Did you try stickin' your hand out to him?" He asked, sticking his own hand out. The rat came running from Eris's shoulder to his own with a happy squeak.

  "I will admit I had forgotten your words of advice for most this time." Eris sighed out. "I thought you said you would call me?"

  "Oh, yeah. Happened to get finished with my work sooner than I expected, so I figured since it wasn't too late yet I'd pop on by and check on you two." He grabbed Eris's hand, bringing her palm out so the rat would run back over to her. "So he's been a pain, huh? I can take him back. Thought you might like him, but I understand if you don't wanna care for a rat- or any animal really," he offered her a smile, showing that he was not offended.

  Once again, Eris sighed. "I named him after you, you know."

  "What, Rat?" He laughed.

  "No," Eris replied softly, warmly. "I named him Drifter."

  The Drifter's facade fell for a moment, and he allowed a sincere smile to glow upon his face.

  "He is quiet aggravating at times, just as you are, but in the end, I do love him." She smiled to the little rat in her hands. "Yes, I will keep him. Thank you, Drifter."

  "Heh... my pleasure." He kissed her cheek. "I just wanna make sure you don't get lonely when I'm away."

  "And indeed, now I shan't be."

  A gleam of green caught the corner of Eris's eye, and when she turned to look she found the jade coin in the corner on the floor.

  Eris smiled.

She is there, and she gives him a reason to keep fighting- a reason to hope. A reason to trust 🐍🌕

so sweet, and such a beautiful story :))

Closing Time

This piece began first as a private daydream, Later, it grew into a daydream shared with a newfound friend (@imonthemoonitsmadeofcheese). With that came a wash of creativity over me that I decided, for once, to fully submerge myself in. The song that I imagine Drifter singing in this piece is titled “Martha”, and is sung by Tom Waits. You may listen to it here: https://open.spotify.com/track/75QoXqTlvBwuITzow9egCB?si=faa697d56fa84e32. The song that Eris imagines at the end — the trumpet and piano duet — is titled “Closing Time”, and is also by Tom Waits. You may find it here: https://open.spotify.com/track/7vYZWL2XhKratVh27IdgK7?si=ce1af40fab964e08 There is nothing violent here — only tenderness and kindness founded upon a moment of healing. I am not expert in handling tender moments between individuals, and sometimes struggle to describe them. I make up for it, perhaps, in metaphor. I’m always inspired by music, and I guess that’s where the daydream emerged from in the first place. I also cooked this up in a day which is absolutely hilarious (neurospicy brain things) Please enjoy. Comments are appreciated! *Note: I also don't have an Ao3 account (I'm in the long queue) so I'm just going to leave this parked here for now.

The door opened slowly with a gentle push, creaking loudly in response to decades of wear and neglect as it swung open and away from the Drifter. For a place that had been left largely forgotten and untouched, likely intentionally by its owner, any sort of movement and sound felt sacrilegious, like intruding upon a sacred space that should have, perhaps, been left alone.

Drifter breathed a heavy sigh as he hesitated to take a step into his old bar. It should feel like a place he owns, one that he feels welcome in, he tells himself. But the air responds otherwise — it is thick, musty, and overbearing, weighed down heavily by memories of his past, of old selves torn away and discarded, of ghosts rather forgotten, and of a time that no longer seemed accessible. It had been weighed down by the burden of change.

Why had he come here? A rhetorical question to himself, but one that occupied his mind nonetheless.

He had lingered outside enough. “Eh, gotta go in at some point, I guess,” he muttered to himself as he erected a wall of indifference once more. With soft and quiet steps, the Drifter finally stepped into the bar with a sense of trepidation that he wished he didn’t have to feel, especially for a place he once had some attachment to. Though he’d expected things to look different, he had to admit that the space of his bar — though theoretically the same as how he’d left it last — felt different. His heart skipped a beat as his senses became attuned to the apparent dissonance in the once lively (though chaotic) space he owned. After all, the mind can only prepare one so far — the heart, however, will always be tugged along, albeit unwillingly, in directions unwanted. For someone who had survived so much, who thrived on instability and change as a means of putting up walls and abandoning the past, it would seem that for a rare moment, the Drifter would finally admit to himself that he’d been subconsciously wishing for something in his life to, at least, remain the same.

The silence was piercing — ringing even. It was in stark contrast to a memory of a boisterous time once filled with excitement and activity. He could almost imagine it, but as he called forth that memory in his mind, the dissonance grew louder, more discordant. He found himself stemming the discomfort by fixating on the sound of his footfalls as it punctuated the silence. Grounding, as Eris had once taught him. Where these footfalls had once been crisp and confident, heard in tandem with the voices of comrades and enemies both lost in time, they were instead now faint and muted no thanks to the thick layer of dust that blanketed what used to be dry and clean wooden floorboards. As each step unsettled the caked-on dust on the floor, leaving imprints of his boots, the Drifter directed his attention to his footfalls and simply looked. Dust was gently being dislodged, then lifted, and finally fell off the tips and soles of his boots. He could feel it — that each step carried with it the burden of time laid bare for him to witness. Breathing in deeply, Drifter felt the discomfort ease ever so slightly, as he was finally reminded of why he’d come back to the bar in the first place.

To learn to embrace change while not abandoning the past. It was an answer to his question from before, but one that he knew, acutely, that its execution would not come as easily as hoped. Ideally, he would think the process into existence.

Before his mind could stray any further, he felt a buzz from the datapad tucked neatly beneath his robes. Drifter retrieved it, and smiled softly when he saw who the message was from.

EM: Germaine. You are not on the Derelict. D: Aw Moondust! Missing me already? You should just say so! EM: Answer the question, Rat. Where are you? D: I’m at the old bar. The one I used to own? From waaaaaaaaaay before? EM: It’s three in the morning, Germaine. What are you doing there? Are you alright? D: Catching up on old times, I guess. EM: I see. Would you like company? D: Yeah. Thanks, Moondust. See ya in a bit.

The gentle smile didn’t leave Drifter’s face even as he tucked the datapad back in its place. For him, Eris’s company was always welcome. But this was even more so true for today — with the weight of the past and of this space still holding him down like a Sisyphean boulder on his shoulders. Though he wasn’t expecting her to know more about it, or to help him lift it, he imagined that it would be nice to have her company while he worked through and unfolded the attachment to this place that he had long since buried. There was, after all, comfort to be found in the gentle intimacy of vulnerability they had since learned to share in time.

Just as he’d finished pondering, Drifter felt his arm brush against yet another thick layer of dust as he walked past a large, boxy object. He turned, and let out a tiny, silent gasp of awe as he came to realise what we in front of him — it was a piano. It had been such a long time since he’d played one, not to mention seen one in the first place. The piano was no Steinway, of course. Just an upright Baldwin that had been salvaged from way before. Drifter chuckled as he recalled just how out of tune it was when he had salvaged it, and how he’d managed to tinker with the piano enough that it at least sounded mostly reasonable. For a moment, he wondered if his work had stood the test of time.

There was a quietude that ached in the space around him, as Drifter took the time to take in the scene in front of him. Slowly, he took a few steps back, and gazed softly at the piano. The sight was, frankly, captivating. Moonlight streamed in from the holes in the roof that had since come to plague the bar, touching the piano ever so lightly. In these beams of moonlight, particles of dust travelling in the air were illuminated. For a space where its stillness initially bordered on suffocation, Drifter finally felt himself attuned to the sensation of the most minute movements. The way the breeze drifted in inconsistently, cold to the touch. The way his breathing shifted the dust travelling around him, visible through the rays of moonlight. The way the clouds cast shadows on the ground as they momentarily blocked the moonlight. He felt just a little better about being here.

Inspired, he pulled out the piano bench and sat on it. No one would have issues with someone playing a piano at the base of Felwinter Peak at three in the morning, of course. Drifter pulled his gloves off, placing them neatly on the top of the piano. He had done so instinctively, as if wanting to truly feel and reminisce the texture of the keys with his own fingers. As he swiped one finger gently across the surface of the piano’s unopened cover, he was reminded once again of change — of time and age. Parts of the dislodged dust now hung on the tip of his finger. The truth is, he didn’t have to do that. He could’ve simply opened the piano cover. Yet, for the Drifter acknowledging that presence of dust, feeling it, and shifting it away, felt like an active recognition and acceptance of a time long gone. Of change.

Drifter proceeded to lift the cover of the piano, which took a little bit more than a gentle struggle simply because of how long it had been left unopened. It inspired a simple metaphor in his mind — he thought of how the dust, when left undealt with, would work itself into the seams of the piano like a glue that seals all things shut, making it even harder to pry open. He visualized that momentarily in himself, with the dust that had settled into the seams of his own box that contained his past. It was, indeed, one that he was also struggling a little to open. He would try today, perhaps.

Beneath the cover lay the piano keys. Some were chipped, and some were stuck in a half-pressed position no thanks to the lack of maintenance. But for Drifter, it was, in fact, the same as he had left it — it had been untouched for decades, chips consistent with his memory, and the sticky keys were still, well, sticky. There was no fixing those, he remembered, chuckling to himself.

It would become clear eventually that for the Drifter, memory is a muscle, and muscle memory never fails. His hands naturally fell into position, and for some strange reason, prepared themselves in the key of D#. He pressed down on the keys ever so delicately — perhaps to him, they seemed so fragile that they might break under the weight of his burdens. But they didn’t.

He produced a chord in D#. It was, to him, extremely familiar. Let memory lead, let memory take charge, he told himself. The heart knows what it needs. And from there, he began to play a tune. He knew not what it was titled, or who had sung it originally, but he only remembered hearing it being played once by a visitor to the bar who had kindly asked for permission to play the piano. All he knew was that it was a golden age tune — a song from a time now long gone.

As he progressed through the instrumental introduction to the song, Eris stepped quietly into the bar, undetected. The Drifter was too immersed in the moment that Eris refused to even think of interrupting it. Gently and silently, she perched herself on a bar stool that was still intact, knees crossed, listening to his performance intently.

And so, he began:

“Operator, number please It's been so many years Will she remember my old voice While I fight the tears?

Hello, hello there, is this Martha? This is old Tom Frost And I am calling long distance Don’t worry ‘bout the cost

Cause it’s been 40 years or more Now, Martha, please recall Meet me out for coffee Where we’ll talk about it all”

The words fell out of his mouth so naturally like a confession sung aloud to himself. There was a genuine tenderness to his singing voice, a huge shift from his usually crass and rather loud expression, Eris thought. It felt like a warm embrace — not silky smooth, but with a little of a rough texture. Eris couldn’t help but recall the first time she ever placed her hand on his cheek, and how he leaned into her hand in return. That texture of his voice, for Eris, was reminiscent of the feeling she first felt when her hand brushed against his beard. It was comforting.

At the same time, Eris knew in this moment that her Rat was feeling more than just “old times” as he’d rather call it. If the lyrics weren’t enough proof of this, the melancholic instrumental lines that accompanied the song were. In this song was nostalgia tinged with grief — of love once found and later lost, of time spent searching to no avail. She took a look around the bar and was met with the same scene of moonlight the Drifter had seen earlier. If he feels it’s too much, he will know he’s at least surrounded by moonlight, she thinks to herself, reassuringly. He continues:

“And those were the days of roses, poetry and prose And, Martha, all I had was you, and all you had was me There was no tomorrows, we'd packed away our sorrows And we saved them for a rainy day

And I feel so much older now And you're much older too How's your husband and how's the kids? You know that I got married too?

Lucky that you found someone To make you feel secure Cause we were all so young and foolish Now we are mature”

As the chorus fully set in, it was evident by now that Martha, for the Drifter, was Orin. The mood in the air was suffused with a warm, gentle longing to revisit the past, to catch up with an old friend, an old lover. Perhaps it might’ve seemed that the Drifter was singing this to or for Orin, but Eris knew better than that. Despite the clear dedication to Martha drawn out by the lyrics, Eris had no doubt that her Rat was instead singing to his memory of Orin and his experiences with her. He was, in some way, acknowledging the reality of his past — one that he had, at many times, tried to shut away with bursts of denial. The intention here was indeed very different.

A second chorus, then:

“And I was always so impulsive I guess that I still am And all that really mattered then Was that I was a man

I guess that our being together Was never meant to be And Martha, Martha I love you, can't you see?”

Eris heard the Drifter stutter a little on the last line. And then he paused for a moment, hands frozen in time. Finally, in the drawn-out silence, he said to himself, quietly, “I loved you, Orin. This dude who wrote the lyric’s still hung up on Martha. But for me? I don’t love you. I loved you.” Eris held her breath and clutched her Ahamkara bone closer to her chest as she heard the Drifter draw out the end of the word ‘loved’, clearly juxtaposed against the original ‘love’. She let go of that breath, and smiled. It was not that she needed reassurance — that safety and security had long been found in the foundation of their friendship and relationship. Instead, she simply felt a sense of pride for her dear Rat, who had finally taken steps to work through the grief he was feeling from his time with Orin and beyond. It was no wonder that she had grown to love this man so very much.

Picking up his playing once more, the Drifter worked his way through the final chorus, before concluding with the words:

”And I remember quiet evenings Trembling close to you.”

And with that, silence. Drifter exhaled — it was a heavy one, but also seemed to bring him relief, as if he’d finally come to terms with what it meant to let go. He removed his hands from the keys, and proceeded to place them by his side as he pressed them softly into the bench. He gazed upwards, looking through one of the holes of the roof where the moonlight seemed to be pouring in from. It was a tiny whisper directed at the ray of moonlight, but one audible enough for Eris to hear from where she was seated.

“Thanks for keeping me company through it, random ray of moonlight.”

Eris stood from her bar stool, finally making her presence known. And though slightly startled, the Drifter wasn’t shocked enough to whip out Trust — he had been expecting her after all, though he had frankly no idea how long she’d been behind him all this while.

“You’re welcome,” she said, smiling, while walking towards him, still seated at the piano. In turn, he scooted over to the side as an invitation for her to sit beside him. She does.

There was a moment of gentle silence — the air was no longer as still as it once was, and it was quiet enough that they could hear each other breathe almost in unison. She placed her hand over his, and he turned his palm over to intertwine their fingers together.

“That was beautiful, Germaine. How do you feel?” Eris asked, in hushed tones.

For a man of many words, the Drifter struggled to gather any for a proper response. He simply sighed, and squeezed her hand. There was a warmth in his gesture, as if to say, I’m working through it still, thank you for being here. She squeezed his in return, gently soothing, take your time, I'm here. With yet another sigh, he leaned over, and positioned his head on her shoulder, snuggling softly into the precious space that he’d already claimed to be his, multiple times. She turned to kiss him on his forehead, before simply leaning her head on his.

It wasn’t clear if he had started to cry, or was simply taking in the moment. That was meant only for Eris’s eyes, and not more. But if Eris had to say something about it, she would’ve described the moment as one: filled with echoes sounded from a duet between a wistful trumpet and a plangent piano; lights turned off after a long day; doors creaking closed, and then locked, gently; it is time to return home.