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Orange embers drifted through a broad curtain of leaves, glowing pinpoints of light swallowed against the dusk of the sun dipping below the tree line. Carried as well on the rising heat, the scent of a meal cooking in the embrace of a campfire was spreading its tantalizing aroma. The fire's crackling joined a cacophony of wildlife in the surrounding forest.
Those denizens surely found the scent of food tempting, yet none of them crossed the line of the small clearing, hesitant to dare compromise its border for draped over it was the specter of shadow. The senses could be fooled to think the darkness was real, the light of the fire dancing as if in a struggle against it, yet it still illuminated the nearby tree trunks and brush.
It also revealed a still tightly rolled bedroll, and a pair of packs with leather flaps pulled over their loosened tops.
Reaching out, a hand twisted a branch upon which were skewered a line of diced hunks of meat with a deft twist of fingertips. Several times the fingers repeated the motion, twisting additional branches and the selections of food on them.
The cook settled back on the short folding stool upon which she was sitting, lifting her hand to lick at the bit of spiced grease that had gathered on her fingertips. Outwardly, she simply closed her eyes, but the hint of an inward, approving nod was almost perceptible.
The dissonant auras of shadow and the preparation of a warm meal, swirling one another like predators circling one another just outside of reach, was shattered by footsteps in the brush and a branch creaking as it was pushed awry.
"This isn't what I expected."
The cook, whatever sense of peace or balance had existed moments ago dashed, refused to open her eyes or look in the direction of the voice that had violated her makeshift shrine.
"What did you expect?"
It was a simple question.
And an empty one.
Her voice was flat, tainted with a ghost of bitterness.
"There's a list of common rumors and myths tied to people consorting with the shadows and void. Take your pick," she answered, casting aside the hollowness of the retort. "Cooking dinner isn't usually one from the books, unless it's some sinister banquet or something."
"Even 'villains' have to eat, I guess."
"I don't know why, but for all the exorbitant tastes of those villains I've met and those I've read about, they always seemed to have terrible palates. This, though?"
"Good to know I'm a terrible person with decent taste, then."
"I know it was hard, but you ran away so fast before we could even try to intervene." The shuffle of clothing and grass briefly challenged the fire and creatures of the night, as she settled to the ground aside the fire. "You ran before I could say anything."
In the absence of words, the night's sounds asserted their dominance for long moments.
The cook reached out, leaning the skewers back one by one away from the flame as she judged them near the end of cooking.
"Well, you know well enough who I am, and who I've been, Yasuna," she said, the words followed by a rueful sigh. "Consorting with darkness sounds about right. If I had stayed, would they have given me a choice other than hurting them?"
"We could have mediated. Me, and the other Scions, the company."
She shook her head, the answer taking tense seconds to arrive. "I don't want people getting harmed on my account."
"That isn't your choice to make, Akusa." Yasuna's answer took no time.
The cook grimaced, squeezing her eyes shut again, before allowing herself a sanguine echo of a smile.
"You're all fools, then."
Yasuna shrugged, giving Akusa a long gaze with her verdant eyes, before she let loose an amused snort and leaned her head back to look heavensward.
"You'll just have to get used to it."
"...I guess so."
Yasuna, her face warm and alight under the fire's radiance, focused on Akusa once more, and under the cloak of nightfall, she earned a moment of silent staring from her.
"That never changed, no matter how much you hid it, you know."
Akusa's eyes widened a hair for but a second, but she could not force her eyes, smoldering red with borders of fiery orange, to break their contact.
"I'm sure I don't know what you mean."
Yasuna's lips curled in a tiny, mischievous smirk. Reaching out, the back of her fingertips brushed along the bottom of Akusa's jaw before she turned her hand and let her thumb rest against the gray-blue of her cheek and the dark cobalt scales there.
"Liar."
"Oh shut up."
"You're still staring."
"Fuck's sake, 'Suna." Akusa tore her gaze away, reaching out to hastily twist the skewers and pull them from where they were embedded in the ground. "If this is overcooked, I swear to..."
"I'm sure they're ok," Yasuna said, stifling a laugh. "Which means I can have some of it, right?"
The self-invitation drew an incredulous gawking at her, Akusa's sharp teeth bright in the firelight before she let out a sigh and rolled her eyes.
"I guess so."
"Awesome!" Yasuna clapped her hands together and quickly scooted to be sitting right against Akusa. "You were always so good at cooking food, this'll be great!"
"I don't know," Akusa murmured. She reached to her other side, pulling up a flat plate of lacquered wood that she settled on her lap. "I probably got a bit rusty over the years." She was unsure it was luck alone, but she fortunately decided to prepare an abundance of the fatty lamb coated in thick marinade.
"Smells ok, and that's half of it, right? But, question. Seriously."
"Fine." With quick flicks of a knife also she picked up from the same vicinity, she started removing the meat from the slender branches. Even in the wild light of the fire, the carmelized edges seemed to shimmer with a coating of cooked grease and spices.
"Is this shorlog? I didn't know you knew how to make it. How'd you learn?"
The question caught her off guard, and Akusa stared into the fire, thoughts drifting.
"You spent time in the Steppes, but I never had much chance. When I ended up with nobody else, I spent some time searching for what was left of the old family..."
On she continued, until the Shorlog and fresh cut vegetables were gone, until the small stock of wine was drunk, and until the fire had burned low and was scant more than charred white wood and buried coals of fading orange.
Groggily aware of the head resting on her shoulder and subtly shifting with soft, sleepy breathing, Akusa realized that her head was resting against the top of Yasuna's.
With a sigh, she shifted her arm around her shoulders, mirroring Atuski and the arm snaked around her waist. The morning would get cool, after all, and the dew would settle soon.
"I guess there's no running from this."