You're Making Me Anxious

     It had been almost a week since Vasya had… ‘vanished.’

     That was the official story.  The local tea shop owner and their Familiar disappeared in the night, the helpful Talons and police doing their best to bring the beloved pair home safe from whatever group of miscreants snatched them in the dark.

     Only, Arista knew better.  They knew the tea shop was guarded at night.  They’d come by the next morning and saw no sign that there’d been a struggle.  Just a few of Vasya’s things gone… as well as them and Teacup, of course.  And the ‘vanished’ story didn’t explain why the Head Hawk had disappeared without a trace as well.  They’d escaped.  Not been stolen.  Arista was happy for them, they were.  Even if they missed them a lot.  Even if they’d never seen Solomon as angry as he’d been that morning.

     When they’d heard what had been happening and why - why every few months they forgot them it had been horrifying.  But they hadn’t known what to do, what they even could do, and so they did nothing.

     And they hated that.

     But… but then they’d received new orders.  Boldif had called them together with Ksenia and told them that they would be leaving in the morning, heading north - apparently, someone had spotted a snake-like Familiar in the woods by an abandoned village - and if that was true, that Vasya wouldn’t be far.

     They’d gone very still when they’d heard that name.

     They were sending them after Vasya.  Was this some kind of test?  Did they not know or care about - the past half-year?  Arista knew nothing about the new Head Hawk, only that everyone muttered about them being a hardass and determined to hunt down their predecessor and root out any other disloyal members of their flight.  Arista hadn’t said a thing while Ksenia and Boldif had told them about the mission, and had run off as soon as they could, citing a need to prepare for a ‘scary Familiar’.

     Once they’d turned the street corner, they broke into a run and didn’t stop until they reached their house and locked the door behind them.  They weren’t sure what they were fleeing from, only they couldn’t stop shaking until that was done.  Arista’s back slammed against the door, and they didn’t even bother to turn on the lights before slowly sinking to the ground and pulling the neatly folded paper out of their pocket to stare at it.

     It was too dark to read, but they knew what it said.  Orders to hunt down a dangerous fugitive.  A threat to Ironbrook’s stability.  An enemy of the state.  An ideal Talon would feel nothing, aside from maybe pride, at being tasked to such an important mission.  The only thing they felt was sick.

     Again, Arista asked themself what to do.  What they could do.

     If they did nothing this time, they’d… they’d be helping drag their friend back to something terrible.  If they didn’t kill them for trying to leave.

     Arista let out a hissing breath and jumped back to their feet, frantic energy seizing them.  Suddenly sitting still and having to think was the enemy.  They shoved the note back into their pocket and forced themself to turn around.  Their legs trembled ever so slightly - well, actually, their whole body was shaking - when they opened the door again.

     They let their feet take them where they would, concentrating only on avoiding other people and not accidentally stepping in front of a car.  Despite their best efforts, their mind continued to wander back to Vasya and what would happen in the morning, every time they’d thought they’d managed to stop.

     The sky was growing black overhead.  They couldn’t see the sun past all the immense buildings that surrounded them, but the dark red and violet clouds overhead were enough to tell that they only had an hour or so of light left at most.  But they didn’t want to go back, not yet, even if that meant walking home in the dark.

     Arista stopped, sighed, and tried to think of where they could go instead.  The tea shop, their brain unhelpfully supplied.  No.  That wasn’t an option anymore.  They looked up and blinked.  Oh, these were apartment buildings.  They knew this street.

     It surprised them that their next thought was that Solomon’s apartment wasn’t far from here.  The next didn’t.  Maybe Solomon would be brave enough to do something if he knew.  Or maybe he’d kill them for showing up and they’d never have to worry about any of this again.  Okay, that was stupid - but still better than doing nothing.

     And maybe if they got themself injured they’d postpone the mission for at least a few days.  Vasya would have more time to put distance between them, then.

     Well.

     Only one way to know what would happen.

     Arista walked down the street, turning a few corners before the shape of their teacher’s apartment loomed over them.  To call it familiar was a little much; they’d only been inside once, and aside from the claw marks by the window - Strawberry’s handiwork - it looked near identical to the neighbouring buildings.  Still, they recognized it.

     They reached the entry, grabbed the door, and then paused.  Suddenly this seemed like a bad idea.  What were they doing?  They jumped back a few steps and almost turned to leave, but no they didn’t want to be alone in their empty house.  So they stepped forward again, then back, and settled for pacing along the sidewalk.

     They reached the streetlight and paused, pretending to be interested in the random doodles - some rather… fun - and flyers covering it.  Then they turned back and were partway through walking past the door again - still not having the nerve to go for it - when someone shouted at them.

     Arista flinched and went very still.

     Solomon.  He was leaned partway out of the window and glaring at them.  Oh no.  “Get up here.  You’re making me anxious.”

     What should they do?  The temptation to just turn around and run gripped them, but they were fairly certain that Solomon knew where they lived, and that he’d follow them home and they’d have to talk anyway but he’d just be even angrier.

     You can do this.  It’s just… just stairs.  You aren’t afraid of stairs.  They were afraid of who was at the top of those stairs, though.  Reminding themself that talking to him was probably unavoidable at this point made it easier to open the door, walk through the quiet lower floor of the building, and make their way upwards.

     Arista paused for a moment at the door, then reached out and knocked.  The door swung inwards almost immediately, and Solomon greeted them with a rather… unfriendly look on his face.  More than usual.

     “Why are you here?”

     Why am I here?  Whatever made me think this was a good idea?  Arista watched his expression grow progressively more annoyed the longer they just stood there and took a step back, blurting out, “I - can’tworktomorrowcanyoustabme?”

     “What?”

     “Can you…”  Arista paused, frowned at the floor, and thought better of repeating that request.  Instead, they just reached into their pocket and held out the note, “um, read this?”

     After he took the letter from them, they stood there, fidgeting with their sleeve and not knowing where to look - certainly not at Solomon, staring was bad and they didn’t want to see the expression on his face right now - and eventually settled for examining the carpet underfoot.

     After a minute, they glanced up.  Solomon was scowling at the paper and opened his mouth to say something before pausing.  Then he glared down the - still empty - hall, “well.  Come in.”

     When Arista didn’t move, he rolled his eyes, grabbed their shoulder, and pulled them inside.  They stumbled slightly, almost tripping over a chair, and turned to watch Solomon lock the door.  Oh.

     “I - uh - did you… did you read it?”  They bit their lip to try to keep from shaking.  It didn’t help.  Nothing was helping.  This was a mistake.  Arista stared at the floor again and sighed, waiting for him to say something or ask a question or whatever was about to happen now.

     “Why are you coming to me about this?”

     Their heart fell.  They wanted to glance up and check his expression, but their heart was racing and they feared they might not like what they saw there.  “...I don’t have anyone else to talk to about this.  And I thought you’d want to know?”

     “Huh.”  Arista dared to look at his face, caught the suspicious glare, and promptly returned their gaze to the floor.  “Yes.”

     “Yes?”

     “Yes, I would like to know,” he muttered.  “What do you want to talk about, then?”

     “I don't know what to do,” they said after a pause, “I can't do that.”

     “Then you’d better have another option planned,” Solomon snorted, “because your Flock won’t take that well, most likely.”

     Arista stared at him, feeling dread growing in their stomach.  A plan?  They sank to the floor and pressed their hands over their face, “they only told us a few hours ago.  And we’re leaving in the morning.”

     They felt something poke them and glanced up to see Solomon regarding them with that odd expression usually reserved for his cousin and Ceri.  “don't break.”

     Too late.

     “Fine, look - your best bet is to run.”  He said with a sigh, “if you already know you can't go through with this, best to make an excuse to be alone and then run. Head to Hovell and seek asylum there - the Talons don't go often, and the missions there are the least popular.”

     They blinked up at him.  For a few moments, that almost seemed like a solution.  A convenient one, even, compared to other options, but it didn’t sit right with them for long.  There was someone they were forgetting.

     “But what about Vasya, they know where they-” Arista cut themself off mid-sentence and glared at the floor.  What Solomon suggested was good for them but it was selfish.  They’d be leaving it up to chance that Vasya realized they knew where they were hiding and had time to escape.  “...no one pays much attention to me on missions.  Maybe… maybe I could slip away and warn them, tomorrow?”

     “And why are you telling me that?”

     Arista flinched.  They weren’t sure what they’d expected to hear, but that had not been it.  They bit their lip and glanced briefly up at him, “do… do you not want me to?”

     Solomon sighed and rolled his eyes, “who do you think they’ll come talking to if both Vasya and you go missing?”

     “Oh.”  Oh, oh hell, they really were stupid.  If they went through with that plan, and anyone had seen them talk with Solomon first… that would get him in trouble, too, wouldn’t it?  What if - “Do you want me to go?”

     He didn’t respond for a moment, then Arista heard the sound of - a window opening, maybe?  They jerked to their feet to see what was going on, their heart starting to race again and… 

     ...and, oh, it was just Ceri.  A brief flash of shimmery-white scales was all they caught of Strawberry before she was gone.  They’d forgotten that he and Solomon lived together, somehow.  Probably because it was… weird to imagine anyone living with Solomon.  The man regarded them both with a slightly confused expression that quickly slipped into concern.

     “I think you should go.”  He said then, glaring at them, apparently not liking that they’d looked at Ceri or something.  They heard a snort come from the other man’s direction, and glanced back up from the floor just in time to watch him walk over, a newspaper in hand, and bonk Solomon on the side of the face.

     “What?”  Solomon made a sound that reminded Arista of a particularly offended parrot and turned to glare at him, “you know that’s weird, can you not?”

     Ceri rolled his eyes at him and gestured with his hands.  Arista had picked up a bit over the past few months, and they thought he was asking what was going on.  They swallowed and glanced at Solomon, wondering if he’d tell him.

     “I was just giving them pointers on runes,” Arista bit their lip at that lie.

     “Must’ve been some harsh criticism,” Ceri flashed him an extraordinarily unimpressed look and rolled his eyes, then waved his hand at them, “go sit down, I’ll cook.”

     Solomon muttered and scowled at him, then turned towards them, “Never hurts to go over runes more.”

     Arista stared after Ceri for a moment as he walked over to the kitchen; they thought they heard him laugh, and then started when Solomon fixed them with a glare.  “I know what you’re thinking, stop it.”

     They stood like that for a minute, then said quietly, “I don’t think he believes you.”

     Somehow his scowl got even deeper; they took a half-step back and mumbled, once again staring at the floor, “just being honest.”

     “He thinks I’m lying, whatever,” he sighed, “we might as well do some anyways.  Did you bring any materials?”

     Arista blinked slowly and stared at him.  What kind of question was that?  Of course they hadn’t, they hadn’t come here tonight for extra runesmithing lessons.  Why would they have?

     “Right.”  Solomon said a minute later, “I’ll go get some, then.”

     They waited for him to vanish down the hall before peering around at the room.  It looked… surprisingly normal.  They’d been there once before, crammed onto a couch with Petar and Bozhi, but it still felt odd.  Arista hadn’t expected Solomon to live in some squalid lair, of course, but - an ordinary apartment wasn’t what they’d imagined.

     Arista looked over at Ceri and flushed slightly when, a minute later, he caught them staring and smirked.  “Go sit down.  No one’s going to stab you.”

     They just nodded and went to sit down at one of the larger tables in the apartment.

     It was hard not to fidget too much, so they settled for just quietly tapping their fingers on the wooden surface and running through the coming day in their head.  They’d set out in the morning and travel to the small, abandoned mountain town.  Arista would need to slip away with enough time to warn Vasya, but not too soon or they’d notice they were gone and know something was up and -

     Solomon set down something on the table and Arista started at the unexpected noise.  Just things for runes, small bits of wood and carving knives, nothing to be alarmed at.  Still, their heart continued fluttering for a moment longer before they took a deep breath and forced themself to be calm.

     It was hard.

     At least, a few moments later, Solomon gave them something to do.  Carving runes helped them not think about where they were, or what they were going to do in the morning, or the weirdness of the perfectly normal apartment.  Every time they finished he tossed some other task at them and glared if they so much as looked in the direction of the kitchen, which would’ve been funny if it wasn’t terrifying.

     Their fingers were starting to ache when Ceri came over, setting down plates on the table and giving the mess of wood shavings and papers an amused stare.  The food smelled surprisingly nice, considering they remembered Solomon complaining that he’d managed to burn water at some point a few months back.

     When Solomon continued carving without so much as looking up at him, Ceri rolled his eyes, grabbed a spoon, and poked him on the ear.

     Arista watched, wide-eyed and confused, as Solomon let out an offended growl, snatched the spoon from Ceri’s hand and swatted at him with it.  Ceri just grinned and motioned at the steaming plates of food, then at the mess on the table, “that’s your spoon now, by the way.”

     “Fine,” he muttered, clearing a space for the plate, then caught Arista looking their way and glared across the table at them, “why are you staring?”

     “You remind me of my brothers,” they said before they even had a moment to consider what they were saying, then felt their ears burn and hid their face in their arms, both embarrassed and afraid of the reaction.

     They heard a sigh from Ceri a moment later and someone set a plate down in front of them and patted them on the shoulder before taking a seat, but only looked up when Solomon spoke.  He had a look of mild interest on his face.  “Who?”

     “...my brothers?”

     Solomon rolled his eyes.  “Yes.  Who are they?”

     “Well, I, uh…”  They frowned at the table and used the excuse of food to buy some time to think on what to say that would shut down any questions as quickly as possible.  The growing look of annoyance on Solomon’s face didn’t help much, though.  Eventually, Arista just settled for a shrug and said, “yeah, Radimir and Ivan.  They used to tease each other all the time.  Haven’t seen them in years, since, uh… since stuff.”

     They winced after they finished talking.  ‘Stuff’.  How totally not-suspicious.  They were certain that Solomon would have no clue they were trying to avoid talking about something.

     “...stuff?”

     “Yeah, stuff,” they said, and then froze up at the glare that earned them.

     Solomon rolled his eyes at them, “what do you mean, ‘stuff’?  You said you haven’t seen them, but have you written to -” he cut himself off and hissed when Ceri poked him with a napkin.  “What now?”

     Ceri gave him an extremely weirded-out look for a moment - probably something to do with his perfect impression of a feral alley cat - then sighed, “look, you can pester them with questions later if you’d like, but I doubt either of you want to eat your dinner cold.”

     Solomon muttered something under his breath and turned to his food, stabbing at the plate angrily, but at least he had stopped trying to ask them about their brothers.  For now.  Arista knew he was probably not going to let that one go.  They picked at their own food but forced themself to eat it; for all they knew, depending on how tomorrow went, this might be the last meal they’d have.  Not to mention it did taste nice.

     “Why do you want to know?”  They asked, quietly, after they’d finished and thanked Ceri for the food, “it’s… I don’t like talking about it.”

     “Because you never mention them.”

     You never mention your family, “I really don’t enjoy talking about it.”

     “Hmm.  Why?”

     “Makes me sad,” they said with a shrug and rubbed the tablecloth between their fingers.  When nothing else was asked, they glanced up to realize that Solomon was staring at them.  They met his gaze for a moment and muttered, eyes dropping to the floor, “fine.  Ivan disappeared when I was twelve.  I… I think he ran away, but…”

     Arista shrugged and continued after a moment.  “But I don’t know for sure.  Haven’t heard from him since.”

     “Oh.”  That was the only response they got from Solomon as he stood up.  Confusion and then maybe a bit of anger rushed through them.  Was that all he was going to say?  They hadn’t even spoken about Radimir yet, and that night had been far worse.

     “Oh?”  Arista shifted and spoke quietly, “I wasn’t done.”

     He paused and fixed them with a look somewhere between puzzled and annoyed - well, maybe the ‘annoyed’ bit was just how he usually looked to them - and asked, in a serious tone, “who are you, and what have you done with my anxious student?”

     “What are you talking about?”

     “You're not cowering in fear like you normally are.  Normally, getting information from you is like pulling teeth.”

     For some reason, Arista didn’t like it when he used that comparison.  “Well, I - you wanted to know, right?  Or did you change your mind?”

     “Oh, I want to know.”  Solomon’s typical unsettling grin slipped back into place, and Arista found themself groping after the fading flicker of annoyance, which was quickly being replaced by dread.

     They stared at the table for a moment, ignoring the concerned look Ceri was casting their way, then started to speak, “my other brother, Radimir.  He also went to the Chicks school, but he got into a fight with one of the instructors and was expelled.”

     Arista paused, shrugged, and finished quietly, “our parents kicked him out after that.  We write, sometimes, but they don’t want us seeing each other.”

     Solomon’s smile got a touch more feral, “I’d like to pay them a visit.”

     “Don’t,” they hissed out immediately, their stomach twisting painfully.

     “You’re no fun.”

     “They’re my parents,” Arista whispered, “they might not be the nicest all the time, but…”

     But I don’t want them to get hurt.  A tendril of worry wound itself around them at that thought.  They didn’t want them to get hurt - but where would the Talons look if they disappeared to help Vasya?  Trifon and Genko, most likely.

     Briefly, they considered trying to warn them but dismissed it an instant later.  Anything like that would not only warn the Talons of what they were about to do, but also create evidence that they were complicit in their plans.  Not to mention that any warning would take days to arrive, by which time they’d either be with Vasya on the run, dead or far worse.  They were model citizens, they’d probably be alright.

     ‘Probably’ wasn’t reassuring, but it was better than probably not, at least.

     Solomon muttered something to himself and wandered down the hall, disappearing into one of the rooms without another word.  Arista stared at the door for a moment, then started when they noticed Ceri was collecting the plates and heading back to the kitchen.

     “Let me help.”

     He smiled and shook his head, gesturing at the couch with a plate in something that probably meant ‘I’m fine, sit down.’

     “Please?”  Arista sighed, “I think - I just need something to do.”

     Ceri frowned thoughtfully for a moment, then nodded.

     For half an hour, at most, they worked together in relative silence to clean up.  It was… surprisingly nice.  A mindless task that drew their thoughts away from tomorrow, although the sensation of all this being so unusually normal only grew stronger.  

     Perhaps it was Ceri’s influence?  Although, even though he worked as a mailman now, judging by his scars and the fact he had an enormous dragon toddler as a daughter, it seemed a little odd for him as well.

     Once they’d finished, Arista glanced back and forth between him - currently occupied with the kettle - and the door.  It was more than time they’d left.  They’d likely long overstayed their welcome.  Ceri looked in their direction and sighed.

     “Leaving already?”  He tilted his head at them, “do you live alone?”

     Arista hesitated, then nodded.

     “You can take my room for the night, then.”

     “What?”

     Ceri grinned, leaning back slightly onto the counter, “whatever’s going on, being alone right now isn’t going to help.  Trust me.”

     They stared at the floor for a few minutes.  “Won’t Solomon be mad?”

     “Maybe,” Ceri shrugged in a way that said ‘he usually is’ and Arista snorted softly.  “But he’s not who I’m worried about right now.”

     “Do…”  Arista paused, then asked, “do you know what’s going on?”

     “No.  Given how secretive you two are being, I could guess, but… never been one to pry.”  He grinned and gestured again at the couch in the other room, “go sit down.  I’ll make tea and we can talk, or not if that’s what you’d like.”

     They nodded and sheepishly made their way into the other room.

     Although Solomon was nowhere to be seen - probably still lurking in whatever room he’d wandered off into after dinner - they continued the last bits of work he’d given them before they’d eaten.  The repetitive motion of whittling away at the wooden block to form a rune helped calm their nerves a bit.

     Arista glanced up when Ceri placed a cup of tea by them on the table, then wandered down the hall.  After a moment, they heard some muffled grumbling that sounded like Solomon’s voice, then Ceri walked back out looking pleased with himself and entirely unbothered by whatever had been said.

     That was just weird.  So far, Ceri had gotten away with poking Solomon twice and now whatever that had gone on in there.

     For a moment, they were half tempted to ask how he’d managed it but decided against it.  Solomon might overhear, and they weren’t sure how Ceri would take a question like that.  After a few minutes, he joined them at the table with a book, and they sat in silence for some time before Arista worked up the courage to speak.

     “Ceri?”  They asked, quietly.  He glanced up at them and set the book aside.  “Have you - uh.  What would you do if someone asked you to hurt a friend?”

     “Well, I…”  He looked away for a moment and sighed, brows furrowed thoughtfully.  “Back where I was born, Xocrium?  Dragons are viewed as animals there more than anything else.  I took Strawberry in before I left.  She was small enough to sit on my shoulder, so I was able to hide her as a ‘lesser wyvern’ for a bit.  No one ever found out.  Didn’t stay long enough after that for her size to be noticeable.”  Ceri paused, shrugged, “but if someone had’ve found out, I’d have been asked to - dump her somewhere, probably, kill her, maybe.”

     “Oh.”

     “Yeah.  I’m a bit impulsive when it comes to that sort of thing, so I’d probably have gotten into a fight then and there and lost my head,” he finished with a grin, which Arista thought was a strange reaction to talking about dying.  After a moment the smile faded and he asked, “this is about Vasya, isn’t it?”

     Arista stared at the floor and nodded.  They didn't look up when he stood up, then flinched when, a few minutes later, a fist-sized stone landed in their lap.

     They gave Ceri a confused stare before picking it up and turning it over in their hands.  It was a large piece of river rock, marked with runes; illusion, air, maybe, and… sound?  “What is this?”

     “It’s an invisibility rune,” he told them, smiling again, “a friend made it for me a few months ago.  I have a feeling you’ll be needing it more than I do, though.”

     A friend?  Solomon knew the runes for this.  They stared at the rock again; it wasn’t what he normally used - typically wood or metal - but… had he made it?  “I can’t take this.”

     Ceri snorted, “don’t be silly.  You being safe is more important than a magic rock.”

     Arista nodded slowly after a moment of hesitation and committed to memory the runestone’s trigger - coughing twice - before tucking it into a pocket.  It seemed a bit… simple, but then, given that Ceri was mute, it made sense.  “Thank you.”

     He nodded and had only just sat down again when Arista heard a door open and looked up in time to see Solomon coming back.  He glared at them and grumbled, “shouldn't you be in bed or something?”

     Arista hesitated, uncertain of what to say, and settled for just staring at his back in confusion when he kept walking, muttering to himself, and wandered into a different room.

     “He’s right,” Ceri grinned and gestured at one of the doors, “you should try to sleep.”

     They nodded and leaped to their feet, pausing only to clean up after themself and awkwardly say goodnight to them both.  As they made their way to the door and half-retreated inside, they tried not to think about how extraordinarily weird this was.  Ceri was a dad, so they supposed it made sense for him, but Solomon?

     They closed the door behind themself and sighed.

     Ceri’s room was clean and organized, and they briefly gazed at the axe hung on the wall, the half-finished wooden carvings sitting on a desk, and what they thought was armour peeking out of a drawer, then reminded themself to mind their own business.  Arista settled down into the bed, which was just large enough for them, and closed their eyes.

     It took what felt like hours to fall asleep, and they ignored the soft sounds of conversation they could make out through the wall, but eventually, they passed out sometime in the night.

     Arista woke early, for a few minutes just staring at the ceiling before their heart started racing and they remembered what day it was.  They rolled over and let out a muffled scream into the bed, then stood up and forced their shaking hands to carefully smooth the sheets and blankets back into some semblance of order.

     That done, they walked out into the hall and prepared to leave.  They didn’t have much time left; they needed to grab some things from their home, make some semblance of a plan, then meet their Flock at the airship port.

     Ceri was standing in the kitchen, holding a mug of coffee and looking half-asleep, his hair spiked up as though he’d just flown through a windstorm.  He blinked at them in mild confusion for a few moments, shook himself, and then hastily smoothed down his hair, “you’re leaving?”

     Arista nodded.  “Don’t have much time left.”

     “I’ll go get Solomon,” he said, setting his cup down and walking down the hall.  Arista waited for a moment, tapping the toe of their shoe on the floor.  The longer they stood there, though, the more frantic the fluttering of their heart in their chest.  After a minute they just couldn’t take it any longer, pulled open the door, and walked down the hall.

     Their pace quickened as they went until they were running, and they only slowed down when they got to the stairs and started to make their way back to the ground floor more carefully.

     Outside, the sky was black save for a grey-gold smear on the eastern horizon, barely visible between the towering buildings all around.  They had a few hours, at most, before they had to go.  They took a steadying breath and started down the street when they heard the door to Solomon’s apartment building slam open behind them and froze midstep.

     They turned to catch the rather spectacular sight of Solomon running after them, coat, thrown on haphazardly over his… pajamas, flapping in the wind as he ran out, and then skidded to a halt when he saw them looking back at him.  The last thing they’d expected today was Solomon chasing them in his pajamas.

     “Arista.”

     They flinched and stared at him.  “...yes?”

     He jabbed them on the shoulder, grumbled, “careful with your fingers when working on runes, alright?” and then turned and made his way back inside, muttering the whole while.

     What?  Arista blinked and stared at the door as it slammed shut after him, utterly confused.  Eventually, they just shrugged, turned, and continued on their way home.  They could puzzle out what that had been about later.

     Arista shoved their hands into their pockets, grasped the jagged surface of Ceri’s runestone between their fingers for support, and pushed away their apprehension.

     They were doing this.