Falling stars spell the end;

“I think we’re lost.”

“No no, listen, I almost have it! It’s....No, we passed that river back an hour ago. Hm.”

“Medea-“

“Ssh, it’s fine, I just-“ Medea unfolded the map, peered at it, then tilted it at an angle as she squinted at it. “....That’s not Ivran, is it. Lugh's handwriting.”

Llyr sighed. “It’s not. It’s Novian.”

“Uh.”

“Don’t say it.”

“Uhhh.”

Llyr ran a hand over his fair face. “Please don’t say –“

“We’re definitely lost,” Medea sighed, crumpling the map with a frustrated sigh. “I thought it said ‘left’! Why did he give me a map that I can’t read!”

“It’s fine,” Llyr said evenly, looking at their surroundings. If anything, the woods had only grown thicker. “I’ve been making corrections on it for most of the journey, but we’d have been lost regardless.”

“You’re kidding.”

He shrugged, picking a spot to sit and put his backpack down. “What can I say. He’s been under house arrest nearly since he arrived on these shores. I can’t blame him for trying, though I can blame him for a lot of other things.”

Medea’s mouth tried to form words, failed, and she joined him by sitting on the grass. “I still don’t understand why Lugh is with someone like that. He made him sound interesting in some of his stories, almost sympathetic, but in person, his partner is just...” She pulled a face, shaking her head.

Llyr’s lips tightened as he took the map back, folding it carefully. “Believe it or not, they’re both as awful as the other. Neither of them really have any sort of moral ground to stand on, so they don’t take that much into consideration with each other.”

Medea leaned her cheek on her fist, perfectly fine with taking a break, lost or not. “Mm, you’re going to have to convince me on that one. Aside from the threat he gave you, Lugh is one of the sweetest people I’ve ever met.”

Llyr scowled sarcastically. “Aside from the threat to crack my skull into pieces, you mean? Stay with them for more than a few days and you’d see what I mean. Mordreaux could’ve been sweet too if he wanted to be. Sweet, coercive, ruinous. That’s his usual routine.”

“Isn’t that every villain’s routine?” She said conversationally. “It’s certainly is for my person. To everyone else, I mean. It shouldn't be the case for your partner in my opinion.”

Llyr’s scowl turned worried, quiet. “About that,” He said, a little hesitant. “...Was what Mordreaux said true? That you’re just a...what did he call it – a fountain of youth to him?”

Medea’s expression dimmed, becoming withdrawn. “...I don’t know. I can’t really know until I talk with him once I get home. I’d like to think that I still matter to him, but...it’s been more than six months and I don’t know if he’s been looking for me.” She looked down, rubbing at her sleeve. “Even before that, I wasn’t...really sure where we stood. We haven’t been close in a long time.”

Skepticism stared back at her, protectively cynical. He tucked it away when he eventually said, “We’ll figure it out. Come on.” He stood, offering her a hand. “The sooner we find a way out of the woods, the sooner we can find your house that got up and walked away.”

She gave him a faint smile, taking his hand and leaning over his shoulder when he opened the map back up again to try and make some sense of it as he led them and their pack-horse Arlo onwards. She pointed to something on the map that looked like a house as their next direction, and Llyr told her patiently that she was pointing to an ink-stain, which didn’t deter her in the slightest. In somewhat dulled but not hopeless spirits, they continued on; that direction was as good as any by this point.