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As the finishing chord of the hymn rang out inside the cathedral, Sylvain’s eyes once again flitted to the door. The Professor had taken attendance a few minutes prior and if he timed this right, he could escape the rest of choir practice without incurring extra stable duties. While classes were getting a bit cramped with all the Golden Deer and Black Eagles students flocking to join Professor Byleth’s house, one advantage was Sylvain was no longer the sole redhead and his absence not so readily notable among the pews.
“Turn to page two hundred thirty-one, ‘Blessings of Our Saints,’” The Professor intoned, eyes not betraying any opinion towards the task at hand.
Those around him ruffled the pages of their hymn books in search of the next song. When Byleth’s eyes left the pews in front of them to do the same, Sylvain ducked down and bolted towards the arched corridor leading outside. Having been sitting in the very back, his escape went largely unobserved. Maybe a dirty look or two from his peers, but he brushed them off. The Goddess had enough supplicants without him being thrown into the mix. Besides, faith magic was far from the curriculum he and the Professor had decided on. This was all just droning busy work Rhea and Seteth required in the attempt to keep students out of trouble and if there was one thing Sylvain prided himself on, it was finding creative ways to do the exact opposite.
However, that was getting more and more difficult as of late. Rumors of some kind of Death Knight and disappearing students had resulted in the faculty ramping up security. Nobody was supposed to be wandering around on their own, especially when the monastery pathways were empty and the odds of help arriving in time were little to none. Sylvain couldn’t see who would want to ambush him on his way to the bathroom or to pick up tea leaves before the market closed or why, but others didn’t see things the same way.
He sighed. There was little point in cutting class if it wasn’t to do something more interesting, but there was no way he’d reach any of the vendor’s stalls, game rooms, or even the sauna without getting busted. The only viable option seemed to be to slink back to his room, maybe read for a while or take a nap. Not the exciting afternoon he had in mind.
“Better move along unless your plan is to get a lecture from Seteth.”
He turned towards the voice, immediately recognizing the gray uniform and purple hair. “As fun as that sounds, I’ll have to pass. What are you up to?”
Yuri flipped his hair back behind his shoulders. “Just a few errands. The Professor knows not to expect me at choir practice.”
“You want some help?” The question came without any real forethought, his mind still reeling from the way Yuri’s locks settled over his neck and the sheen his lips picked up from the sun.
“Depends. You aren’t asking because you ran out of surface girls to annoy, are you?”
While the remark was accompanied by a ribbing smirk, Yuri unflinchingly waited for Sylvain’s response. While Sylvain’s smile fell, the comment wasn’t exactly undeserved, even if his thoughts hadn’t been where Yuri expected them to be. Sylvain hesitantly set aside the platitudes he kept on hand.
“I can mind my manners. Like you said, something better to do than getting chewed out by Seteth, and I can’t say I haven’t been curious about what kinds of things you consider to be errands after hearing about your misadventures with Dimitri, Ashe, and the rest.”
“Fair enough, but notice they haven’t been back to visit since then.”
“Maybe they just didn’t have the time to take in Abyss’s charms with all the fighting. Come on, I can be useful in all sorts of ways. Carry things, throw a lance around, stand there and look handsome. I’ll even buy tea for us once you finish everything on your to-do list.”
“An admirable list of skills.” Yuri rolled his eyes, turning. “Follow me, then.”
Yuri passed Sylvain, sleeve gently brushing his in the narrow alleyway. Having not expected Yuri to actually agree to taking him along, Sylvain had to take a few quick steps to catch up, pleasure and a little giddiness bubbling inside of him. They walked beyond the row of personal quarters where the Professor lived, Yuri continuing down a flight of cobbled steps to what appeared to be a dead end. The revelation of a secret entrance to Abyss wasn’t what made Sylvain pause, it was Yuri crouching down and gripping the edge of the grate built into the wall. With practiced ease, he released some hidden clasp and the grate swung open, exposing a dark, squat entrance. The pleasant buzz inside his ribs sank into his stomach, souring as the corners of his mouth pulled into a grimace.
“Through the sewer?”
“Relax, it’s not actually connected to the water line. It’s just a decoy to keep people out of the know from snooping around.”
While sewer-adjacent wasn’t a huge step up, Yuri had already fitted his lean legs through the opening, turning before his torso entered so he could grip some sort of ladder, leaving Sylvain to either catch up or leave. Unpleasant as the situation appeared, the Ashen Wolves’ uniforms were always unstained and free from obvious tears. Whatever entrances and exits they used couldn’t have been particularly filthy or brutal.
Carefully, Sylvain got onto his hands and knees before the open grate, sticking one leg down into the darkness. A few feet down, his foot found the rung he was praying for. He eased himself downward, finally daring to close the grate behind him once his fingers found sturdy purchase on the ladder. Feeling Yuri’s patience waning even from above, Sylvain did his best to put his earlier anxieties aside and complete his descent.
His eyes still hadn’t adjusted by the time his feet hit the ground. Something gently brushed his hand and he started.
“It’s just me.” Yuri murmured. “It’s not much farther.”
Sylvain let out the breath that had caught in his throat, allowing Yuri’s fingers to lace between his. The hand had long since been hardened around a pommel, but was still smooth to the touch. It was obvious to anyone who saw him that Yuri took meticulous care of himself. Nails always polished and rounded, hair feathered just so, cosmetics applied with a finer touch than many of the girls had mastered. Sylvain could certainly appreciate the value of just the right kind of hair product, a well-starched shirt, and soap that made him feel and smell like a force of nature. Those few extra minutes preparing oneself went a long way in taking some of the power back when people looked at him and took in what he chose to display.
More practically, though, Yuri’s hand was the sole force keeping Sylvain from bumbling into unforgiving walls as they walked along, regularly making sudden turns or stopping to unlock another grate. The stagnant air grew greasy with the odors of oil and charcoal long before the torchlight began to creep down the passageways. Fragments of conversation and laughter echoed off the stone. Even if Sylvain knew better than to picture the Abyss-dwellers as dirty, rag-clad lepers shivering in the sewers, the flashes of mirth still struck him. After turning one last corner, Abyss came proudly into view. Candles illuminated market stalls and piles of supplies heaped into corners. Some cats and dogs wandered freely, Sylvain recognizing a few from the surface. Mercenaries huddled in groups, children chased one another, merchants peddled their wares, and regular people went about their business.
They were at the top of another set of stairs, a brigand-class man leaning against the wall as he continuously scanned the area. Their footsteps made him turn towards them, his dour expression brightening the moment he recognized Yuri.
“Hey, Yuri! You done with classes for the day?”
Yuri shook his head. “Not quite yet, just stopping by for a while.”
The Keeper’s gaze then travelled to Sylvain. “And hey to you as well, stranger.”
Sylvain smiled and nodded, not having expected some of the enthusiasm towards Yuri to have made it his way. As they continued on, the Keeper went right back to eyeing the passageway they’d just come from, no wariness dragging his focus back to the stranger. Just being a guest of Yuri’s was enough to earn him basic trust to move through Abyss.
Once they stepped into the market Abyss seemed to be built around, all attention turned to Yuri. Children raced up to him without hesitation, proudly showing him some bauble in their possession or to demand he tell them where he’d been. Yuri gave each of them the answers they were seeking, leaving them to contentedly walk away as the adults came up to him. Some simply wished to exchange bright greetings, almost always taking the time to include Sylvain. Others were more direct, whispering rapid relays of information and then retreating with new orders. More than once, as Yuri moved his attentions to the next person who required them, Sylvain watched as the previous interlocutor drifted back to their previous tasks, eyes wistfully returning to Yuri now and then.
Yuri’s voice finally broke through the fog of noise around them, this time aimed at Sylvain. “Thanks for not wandering off, it’s easy to get lost.”
“What’s all sold here?”
“What isn’t may be a better question. If the monastery throws it away, it eventually winds up in Abyss. Lots of good stuff to be found, weapons with barely a scratch on them, some literature the Archbishop or her lackeys decided was too spicy.”
They had resumed walking as they spoke, Yuri gesturing to various hallways and rooms. The scrap pile sounded more like an adventure in lock-jaw to Sylvain, but he kept the comment to himself. The library, on the other hand, was something that might warrant further investigation, if only to see exactly what Seteth deemed to be too controversial for innocent eyes.
“Over here is our altar, free to use for any religion.”
Compared to the cathedral, the setup Yuri presented Sylvain with was almost painfully humble. Offering tables covered with rough-spun cloth, a crudely hewn stone tableau in the center of the room. Small statuettes were littered across the room in small groups or standing alone, some humanoid, others grotesquely monstrous. Sylvain approached a couple sitting on a side table, lowering himself to look at them eye to eye.
Yuri drifted to his side. “You can touch them. Those idols are generally meant to be carried around by travelers, but they’re kept on the altar so everyone can use them.”
The idea of approaching religious items in such a casual way stalled Sylvain’s hand. While his family was never overly devoted to the Church of Seiros, they never missed a tithing or appearance at the major ceremonies. As he carefully gripped one of the painted, wooden figures and angled it into the torchlight, he wondered if those across the Sreng border had similar items. Humble little deities kept in the pockets of those whom the Church so virulently feared.
Yet those grim musings were usurped by a giddy flip of the heart when he finally focused on the figure enough to understand what its shapes and patterns came together to create. The figure was nude, sporting perky breasts and a small, flaccid penis. Early apprehension fleeing, he placed it back on the altar and grasped at its mate, finding the flat chest and vulvar slit he dared to hope for. His thumb gently stroked over the tiny face even as his mind emptied, too lost within the wonder for any coherent thoughts.
“Where are these from?” He finally asked, voice cracking in a way he would have winced at any other time.
“I think Hapi said those are from the forests around Timotheos. The faith they’re from used to be pretty widespread before the Church of Seiros came into power.”
“I’ve never seen anything like them.”
“Yeah, that probably isn’t by accident. Like I said, though, things that get thrown away eventually end up here.”
An easy silence hung in the air around them. Sylvain didn’t feel pressured by Yuri to hide his fascination the idols as anything other than cursory as he would with most others. If anything, he noted that Yuri’s eyes were gently creased in pleasure even while the rest of his expression remained peacefully neutral once Sylvain was finally ready to face him again.
“You’re trans, aren’t you? I only ask because I am, too.”
“Yeah,” Sylvain murmured, the admission freeing up space within him to breathe. “I am.”
“I thought so, but I know better than to bring it up around the Blue Lions. Certainly not bad people by any stretch, but I don’t miss my time in Faerghus. All the blizzards tend to hamper the development of gender theory.”
“No kidding.”
Sylvain didn’t doubt that Yuri had made a careful study of him before even considering inviting him to Abyss. Coy as he was acting, the overall impression must have been at least fair, even if picturing himself from Yuri’s point of view only made him cringe. He groped for a change of subject, the icon in his hand coming back to him.
“It’s been a long time since I’ve had a conversation like this. I doubt anybody knows about me outside the people I grew up with.”
“Your vision gets better when you start spending more time with people like you.”
“I wouldn’t know.” Sylvain shrugged. “But you’re also a trans guy?”
Yuri offered an amused huff. “Oh, friend, I didn’t create this look for people to think I’m a drab little bird of just one feather.”
“Nobody could ever accuse you of that,” Sylvain said with a grin. “So you’re saying you don’t want people to think you’re one gender or another?”
“I do have my preferences, they just change when they feel like it.”
Sylvain set down the idol, turning to put his weight against the table with a groan. “I’m sorry if I’ve been calling you the wrong pronouns. It hurts, even if you don’t think you can ask people to do differently.”
“No offense taken. I don’t mind people using whatever pronouns come to mind with me. It certainly saves me time and energy lecturing them.”
It made sense that Yuri’s sense of self slid between masculine and feminine given his presentation. His lean frame was highlighted by his uniform, hair cut in a more feminine style, and the cosmetics he applied left the eye intrigued as to whether they registered him as a man or woman, even if the true answer wasn’t completely one or the other.
“How about we continue this conversation at the inn?” Yuri proposed. “Finest swill you’ll ever have.”
“I did promise I’d buy you a drink.”
“Surface coin doesn’t tend to get you a lot down here. I’ve got things covered.”
It was only a quick jaunt over to what served Abyss as an inn. Given the unpolished appearance of the Abyss as a whole, the inn was surprisingly well put together. The space was similar to that of the monastery’s dining hall, open with an arched ceiling. Clusters of mismatched chairs and tables were scattered about and at the back of the room was a worn bar. Hot water ran through the pipes encircling the room, chasing away the chill that came from being underground. It was difficult not to like the place and its embrace of simple comforts.
“You going to pay for your drinks this time, Yuri?” The barkeep asked in a rough voice, looking up from where he’d been trying and failing to polish away the ancient scuffs and stains of the bar.
“You know me better than that. How about a game of dice, instead? Either I get two pints on the house or I pay triple the next time I come around.”
The barkeep snorted. “You always cheat. I don’t know how, but I know you do.”
Yuri nudged Sylvain forward. “What if my friend here rolled for me? He certainly isn’t the type to cheat, at least not at dice.”
As the barkeep took in the neat creases of Sylvain’s uniform, his frown failed to abate. Still, after a moment, the barkeep nodded.
“Fine, but we use my dice.”
A worn set of bone dice was produced from somewhere under the counter. Sylvain gathered them into his cupped palms, trying to keep his expression neutral as he furiously pondered at just what Yuri was planning.
“Agreed. Evens we win, odds you lose. Sound good?”
“Sure, then.” The barkeep agreed, although his brow wrinkled as a thought at the back of his head began to beat at the door.
Before he could change his mind, Sylvain cast the dice. They skittered about like impatient fingers before settling on an outcome. It was evens, not that it mattered with the terms they’d agreed on.
“Fair is fair.” Yuri said, as satisfied as a cat who just charmed the catch off a fisherman. “We’ll take those drinks now.”
Clenching his jaw, the barkeep turned from them, filling one stein and then another from a cask behind him. Despite the nature of the bet, he held the steins so that the majority of the drink wasn’t foam, even bothering to drag the flat edge of a knife from one edge of the rim to the other before producing their drinks. His and Yuri’s thanks were met with a dismissing grunt, the barkeep once again taking up his cleaning rag. Sylvain followed Yuri to an empty table, whereupon they sat down across from one another.
“Nice trick.”
“He likes to make a game out of it so he can justify giving out free drinks, even if he tries to pretend otherwise. Not that I’m complaining, though.”
Sylvain chuckled, raising his stein. “Cheers to that.”
Yuri returned the gesture. “Cheers.”
Taking his first sip, Sylvain found that calling the drink swill might have been a bit generous, but he couldn’t imagine the Abyss brewmasters were able to get their hands on quality ingredients. At least under the cat piss taste, there seemed to be a decent alcohol content.
Yuri leaned back in his chair, eyes drifting half closed as Sylvain’s eye was continuously drawn to something new in the inn. Some people came in for a quick drink, others merrily held down their chairs, having been there before Sylvain and Yuri sat down. Sylvain looked down into the stein cradled between his hands, absentmindedly swirling the liquid inside. His heart sat like a stone inside his chest, crushing the bright mood that had been there only moments earlier into pieces. It was far from an unusual turn, reality always catching up to dash the brief fogs of pleasure he chased.
“Keep making that face and it will give you wrinkles. What’s on your mind?” Yuri asked.
Sylvain shook his head, attempting to clear it of unbidden thoughts. “Sorry, it’s nothing important.”
“Lying isn’t among your talents and also isn’t something I tolerate amongst my circle.”
All Sylvain could do was sigh. There was no way he could phrase any of his thoughts without sounding like the spoiled brat he was. If Yuri wanted to get to know him, though, such truths were bound to come out eventually. Might as well get it over with sooner rather than later.
“I just can’t wrap my head around why you, Hapi, Constance, and Balthus would ever want to come back to the surface. Things are far from perfect here, I understand that, but you don’t have to be afraid of the people around you or what they think of you.”
“I don’t think I have to ask about how people back home were to you after you came out.”
“Not a lot of people there know. My parents were surprisingly accepting of it, but I was the child with a crest. I got hormone potions, top surgery, a name change, anything I wanted as long as I could still take up the Lance of Ruin and continue the Gautier line. It just made my brother hate me that much more, though, since I was now the son he never got to be in a whole new way, but my father kicked him out of the house not too long afterward, so there wasn’t much he could do or say about it.”
Yuri’s tone was surprisingly empty of vitriol despite his words. “It sounds like anybody else would think your life is pretty damn perfect.”
“It just makes it that much worse.”
“Believe me, friend, I do get it, at least partly. I have my own less than pleasant experiences with the nobility. I’d take it over dying in the street just like I did back then, but that doesn’t mean it was too many steps up.”
A spark went through the familiar smog choking Sylvain from the inside, igniting it into disbelieving anger. “What are you trying to get out of this, Yuri? You of all people shouldn’t be trying to comfort me.”
“Sylvain, stop.” Yuri enunciated, brow knitting together.
He ground his teeth, furiously searching for something to say in the face of Yuri’s disappointment. Half of him wanted to continue lashing out, searching for the true root of Yuri’s regard for him, while the other part begged for peace, just to bask in the time spent together while it lasted. What could Yuri be seeking, money? Noble sway? No, Sylvain was the one who approached him, not the other way around. Yuri was also far too calculating to expose vulnerability like he had earlier at the altar for an unsure bet. It all made sense and yet it didn’t, couldn’t. Nobody’s attentions towards him were lasting, genuine. Life had proven that time and time again, so there wasn’t any reason for things to be different now.
After a long moment of examining Sylvain, Yuri began again in a softer tone. “You’re more than allowed to have your pain, but it’s what you eventually do with it that matters. It wasn’t until I came here and found something I wanted to protect that I was able to let go of so much of that hurt and shame I’d been carrying around.”
Sylvain took a deep breath and let it out, willing himself to let Yuri have his say. “In what way?”
“The way I saw myself, for one. Back when I made my money through nightly patrons, my identity was always what they wanted me to be. Some stable boy, a nobleman’s daughter, or some other fantasy. I didn’t expect to find a thrill in pretending like that and thought I was losing myself to what I had to do. It took longer than I’d have liked for me to admit that I wanted to be seen like in those games, but on my terms. Not for them in the bedroom, but just for me. That’s when I decided I’d rather be a mockingbird than a canary. In your case, if you’re not going to be a margravine, be the margrave you want to be.”
Stunned, Sylvain could only sit there, willing himself to not look away from Yuri. Nothing about what he just said was particularly shocking. He carried himself with more experience than anyone should have, even if his story was tragically believable. No, what left numb thoughts rolling over one another inside Sylvain’s mind like stones in a river was the earnestness in the recountings. Yuri believed Sylvain had the potential to do better, be better, shape the life he’d been given to his needs rather than be shaped by it himself.
“I’m sorry,” Sylvain murmured and then rallied his voice. “Thank you.”
“I know.” Yuri rose from his chair, tucking it back under the table. “But I think that’s more than enough emotional purging for one day. Choir practice is well over by now. Let me freshen up and we’ll head back to the surface.”
Nodding, Sylvain stood and returned his chair as Yuri had. He couldn’t entirely blame Yuri for calling it a day after such heavy conversation. If there was a way to ruin things, Sylvain would find it. Would Yuri have even invited him to Abyss if he hadn’t suspected he was also trans? He let out a tight breath through his nose. No, Yuri had better things to do than play somebody like that. Kindness went a long way, especially in Abyss, and even Sylvain’s suspicious mind couldn’t peg Yuri for giving it out with ulterior motives.
It was a short jaunt to the dormitories. Sylvain hung back, leaning against the doorframe as Yuri went and sat down at a desk, pulling a small shaving mirror from a drawer before continuing to dig. A set of bunk beds lined the opposite wall, all made and ready for their owners to return for the night. The rug was far from new, but still plush underfoot. Cabinets were built into the free wall, although most were boarded off for some reason Sylvain struggled to discern.
Yuri swore colorfully enough that even Miklan might have learned a new word or two. Upon rushing over to see what was wrong, Sylvain spotted the container of lip gloss in his palm. Any label that once adorned it had long since been worn away, the exterior scratched and dented in multiple spots. The inside, though, was polished to a shine from brushes or fingers being swept around over and over, reaching for every last bit. Only a dull shine was left now.
Yuri looked dejected down into the tin. “I didn’t realize I’d used the last of it.”
“That’s a bummer.” Sylvain said, unsure of how to proceed.
“Just part of life in Abyss. Even when you try to make things last, they still eventually end.”
That’s when Sylvain’s eyes went wide with a sudden recollection. His hand flew to his pocket, whereupon he produced a tube of lipstick as Yuri watched him with a tilted head. Sylvain had completely forgotten about the lipstick after the Professor returned it to him at breakfast. It’s loss hadn’t been particularly mourned when its intended recipient had refused to speak with him for the third time, but at least now someone could enjoy it.
“Here, I think you’ll appreciate it a lot more than… well, never mind.”
While Yuri raised an eyebrow, he nonetheless took the offered gift. Twisting the base, he inspected the pigment that revealed itself, swiping a thin line onto his wrist and examining the results.
“You have good taste. Thanks.”
Sylvain found himself preening as he went and sat on the edge of one of the lower bunks as Yuri turned back to the mirror. His lips softly parted, the chisel end of the wax arcing along his cupid’s bow and then along its mate. The motion was practiced, precise, and sent unexpected heat pooling between Sylvain’s legs, the sensation combining jarringly after his mood had flipped so many times since ditching the rest of the class. As if sensing it, Yuri’s eyes followed his reflection in the mirror, freshly painted mouth quirking in amusement. After capping the lipstick, he tucked it among his other things and came back over to the bed.
Before Sylvain could rise to meet him, Yuri put his fingertips against Sylvain’s chest. There was no real pressure behind the gesture, although Yuri’s violet eyes pierced Sylvain. Meeting the challenge of his gaze, Sylvain brought his hand to the underside of Yuri’s wrist, stroking the sensitive skin that had been marked with the lipstick. He was so warm, pulse firing under Sylvain’s touch. This day had been enough of a whirlwind that Sylvain was ready to quit fighting it and gladly accept whatever came next. In its own way, it wasn’t too different from his usual idea of an outing. Some mischief, a drink, and then a stolen kiss or two. More often than not, there was a spat over a wandering eye or some other trifle thrown in. Why, then, was he so thrown off?
The mattress dipped on one side of him as Yuri put one knee upon it, then the other. Sylvain let the questions fade away, closing his eyes when Yuri’s weight settled into his lap, his arms draping over his shoulders and lips crashing into his. A low sigh ripped its way from deep inside his chest, hands coming to grasp at Yuri’s hips to keep him close. Yuri smirked against him, a pleased hum emanating from him and then working its way through Sylvain like a note plucked from a fine instrument.
Sylvain was hardly inexperienced when it came to fooling around in such a manner. There were plenty of intimate games he played with his girlfriends that allowed him to keep his own pants on, but reciprocity from his partners or deeper intercourse was something he always refused. It just had never been worth speeding up the inevitable rejection. The girls he went through had to know he was never going to offer a ring, leaving their only option of getting anything out of him more substantial than a few meals and gifts to produce a bastard with a crest of Gautier. Once that was out of the equation, nothing was left to make him worth their time. Then there was the issue of other guys, most often straight and when they weren’t, too aware of the way people whispered about him behind his back to kindle any lasting interest. That was probably for the best. Sylvain had learned long ago that the care women could show was rarely matched by that of men. While Sylvain knew he couldn’t dispute the notion that he didn’t like women, that certainly didn’t mean he put men on a pedestal.
Yuri wasn’t either, though, or at least not in the traditional sense. At once, he felt like the closest and farthest person to understanding Sylvain. Where Sylvain cowered and stood as his own worst enemy, Yuri dared the world to try and outwit him. Yuri had built his empire brick by brick, but didn’t begrudge Sylvain for balking at the castle he was being handed. No, he looked beyond all of that and Sylvain was captivated by that gaze, the color of wild heather.
Before Sylvain could determine just how far he was willing to go with Yuri on top of him like that, the latter pulled away, returning to his feet and smoothing out his uniform. His smile was coy, but his cheeks were flushed and eyes darkened.
“You’re a fun one. If we didn’t have afternoon classes, I might have been tempted to introduce you to more of what the Abyss has to offer.”
Sylvain sat up, chuckling and catching his breath. “What’s a few classes in the grand scheme of things?”
“Probably not much, but getting the notes from Annette also comes with extra chores from the Professor.”
Sylvain groaned and fell back against the mattress. With a gentle, heartstopping smile, Yuri leaned back over him one last time, offering a chaste brush of the lips before returning to his feet. That was where he paused, reaching into some hidden pocket sewn into the lining of his cape.
“Here, for the lipstick. Now you have your own set to play with when you come down here next time.”
In Yuri’s outstretched hand was another set of dice, all in a variety of shapes. At first glance, the only thing connecting them were the lilac pips, but Sylvain imagined each was carefully weighted to produce a desired outcome more often than not. Sylvain tipped them into his pocket, the feeling of them against his leg reassuring in a way he could never have accounted for while he was still in the cathedral, waiting for a handy distraction.
With one last glance in the mirror, Yuri wiped away the color that had smeared outside the line of his lips. He waited for Sylvain, dragging the back of his hand over his own stained mouth, to reach his side before heading up the path to the surface. Trying to follow up the experience they’d just had seemed impossible, but Sylvain had promised Yuri a cup of tea. That, at least, was a good place to start.