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Novelux Copperridge Wharf

Reader mode
Laura's head crackled with the buzzing of anxious thoughts as she paced through the dockers' district and along the beachside promenades. It had been a little while since the museum, a time she'd wholly spent distracted and concerned, analysing everything said between her and Steven and Ralsen, and still no word from the Metang. Instead, as she bugged Betel for updates, she'd mentally tracked Steven's progress further and further away from public spaces, all the way to a part of the coast where no-one else would be around.

Solitude? Sure. Fine. Take your time. But Laura couldn't help but run a scenario over and over in her mind, of whether a Metang could voluntarily sink beneath the waves...

Do Metang need to breathe?

She heard the cry, and went down on all fours to run, something she had little practice with, but was still programmed into her feline brain, somewhere. She second-guessed herself with each step, asking if it would be worse to intervene, if Steven just needed privacy, if she was even close to being the best person to help right now, and on and on and on.

She came to a stop at a decaying wharf, looking along it at the grey figure ahead as she caught her breath. What could she possibly say to him?

She walked forward. She didn't know what to say to him.

She came to a stop just beside the Metang, and rested her forelimbs on the same railing.

"I'm here," said Laura.
 
From somewhere far away, Steven heard something. Did he even hear it, buried so deep in his grief? It was more like he felt it, traveling through the vibrations of the metal crunched in his grip. Someone was here. Here. Why was he here?

Slowly, Steven crawled his way back to the forefront of his mind, and cracked one eye open. Who was here?

"Laura?"

All that came out was a weak, half-garbled chime. ...Right, he had to project his voice.

"Laura?" he tried again. His voice was hoarse, like he hadn't used it in a while. Or he'd used it too much. "Why? You didn't have to--"

He stopped himself suddenly. Something screaming at him that he shouldn't push her away. She'd come all this way, tracked him down when he didn't even know where he was himself. Maybe that was it. Maybe he'd always needed someone to help him find himself.


"Sorry. I guess my housekeeper was right. I don't handle loss very well."
 
Reader mode
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