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Celes sat back at the edge of the gaiety against the wall of the item shop, out of the chill of the mountain wind, choosing to observe. It wasn’t as if the moment was lost on her. A smashing victory against the Empire deserved some sort of recognition. This was a moment to cherish. After any occasion where war reared its ugly head, it felt right to celebrate life with other people. The Narshe soldiers, townsfolk, and the Returners had taken this creed in a raucous stranglehold. Visiting the esper would come later.
Suddenly, she felt a presence and quickly circled to check her back. Her eyes locked onto his. Confusion spread across her face.
Cyan stopped as soon as she had turned. His face had no hint of a smile, and it didn’t move as he studied her expression.
They remained motionless for a few seconds. Then, he held up a glass of mead in Celes’ direction, twitching it slightly. Several seconds later, she nodded and reached out to take the offering from him. “Thank you,” she spoke without emotion, as she took a long sip.
Cyan nodded back, stoic in his exterior, and retreated back to his own private section of a different building’s wall. From there, he returned to his own watch and drink while maintaining his distance from the growing revelry.
The rush of battle had subsided. Once again, her life was back to an uncomfortable new normal. The Returners were not her friends and family. The soldiers paid her no attention. The Empire was now her enemy.
The skirmishes would continue. He wanted nothing to do with the jovial atmosphere. Elayne and Owain were never coming back. Doma had not suddenly risen from the ashes. The Empire still threatened more kingdoms like his.
The outsiders’ somber eyes finally met again. They exchanged disconcerting sighs.
It was a start.