If you only knew

The invitation had caught them by surprise. 

They had expected to receive one, eventually, when the time was right and Thallan's isolation nothing more than a fading memory. It was only reasonable, considering all the work they'd put into helping out the Damascs since Thal's tragedy three long years ago, but now, right after Thal's long-awaited emergence? Never and yet Ilarion couldn't have replied with a yes any faster than they had when the word of today's party finally reached them.

A celebration among family for Thallan's recovery, the letter had stated, and at some point that definition had somehow come to include them as well, apparently.

Ilarion stood in the stone walkway, their carriage bid on its way for now. They couldn't remember last time they had felt actually nervous to see anyone - even their now ex-wife had inspired exhaustion rather than dread all the way until their arrangement's bitter end.

But here they were now, throat dry and shoulders tense under their well-fitted yet tasteful clothes, the beautiful velvet and silk ensemble brought together by an opaque patch over their missing right eye with its gold-thread detailing. Another habit they had picked up over the last few years, tired of the wandering gaze they had been met with day after day due to the dark hollow that covered half of their face - unsettling, as their spouse had helpfully put it. Ilarion had made a point to wear the usual earrings and delicate necklace though, their hair tied neatly save for a few wavy forelocks.

They felt almost cold under the setting sun with their thoughts racing.

What would Thallan think of their mentor's involvement with the business or the decisions they had made? Ilarion had done a good job, that they knew with certainty but it was Thal's thoughts they could only guess at.

They looked at the house they'd grown more familiar with in Thallan's absence than they ever did when still mentoring them. It was an inviting, colorful beast of a building, much less impressive on the outside than the many workshops and rooms it hid behind its colored glass-panes and wooden walls. They changed the gift basket from one hand to the other, fed up with their own dilly-dallying as they made the final steps and knocked on the door with no trace of their hesitation remaining. 

There would be no room for such if they hoped to help their wounded bird.