Work Text:
It had been a beautifully warm day, when the news came to port. The wind coming off the sea carried a pleasant coolness, the smell of salt-spray, and clouds like bits of seafoam, floating lazily on.
Tarren had been hard at work that morning. It had actually been a rather good pain day-- that seal on their wrist must have been doing its job. Good, they thought, a smile on their face. Their mind had settled into a general state of relief, optimism, and pride at how much they’d be able to get done, on the day the news came to port.
They’d slipped out of the harness of the lift and into the straps of their crutches with the half-mindedness of someone who’d gone through these motions dozens of times before. They’d just finished installing a section of the siding on a ship they felt pretty confident about and felt it was time for a little water break (and maybe a snack, too).
Their pace wasn’t too hurried, though, as they made their way to the warehouse the workers here had commandeered and turned into a little breakroom/cafeteria-- the Breakhouse, people called it. They smiled and briefly greeted people they knew as they passed until they reached the familiar worn double-doors of the Breakhouse that never really closed.
Instead of the atmosphere of idle camaraderie that usually filled the Breakhouse this time of day, there was a strange hush. People seemed no less friendly, just more quiet… a few looked nervous. Actually, a good amount had a look of consternation on their faces.
Tarren spotted a friend of theirs-- a copper-skinned Ferin named Dess-- at one of the counters made from a few repurposed crates. He was one of the most laid-back people they knew, and even he looked a bit more tense than usual, his shoulders held less slack, his ears held alert, and his fur-tufted tail lashed slightly as he rummaged around in the cabinets below the countertop.
“Dess!” Tarren greeted as they stepped closer to him.
“Hey, Tarren.” He glanced up at them, a grin forming on his lips as he set a bundle of jerky on the counter. “Can I get’cha anything?”
“Mm, yeah, are there any dried fenberries left?”
“I think so, lemme check.” Dess reached back into the cabinets.
“Thanks.” Tarren glanced around briefly. “Hey, what’s with the weird quiet in here? Did something happen that I’m not aware of?”
“You haven’t heard?” Dess stood fully, handing a small pouch of dried berries to Tarren, a look of slight confusion on his face.
Tarren shook their head.
“It’s something pretty big, I’m surprised you didn’t already know, like, days ago,” He remarked, a note of hyperbole in his voice. “‘Specially with that weird telepathy all you academy-folk seem to have.”
Wait, academy-folk? A strange dread tugged at their mind as well as a flare of impatience at the information they didn’t yet have.
“Out with it, Dess!” Tarren snapped. Dess flinched a little and Tarren realized what they’d done. “Sorry, sorry.”
“It’s okay.” Dess let out a puff of breath and leaned closer over the counter, propping his elbows on its surface. “Ravv Ainox disappeared. In almost an instant, people say,” he told them, voice serious-low instead of laidback-low, like usual.
Tarren blanched. “ What? ” They shifted uncomfortably. “Dess, don’t joke about that…” they deflected.
“‘Ren, d’you see a smile on my face?”
Oh no-
Erin.
~+~
Tarren felt foolish for being worried. Erin could handle himself! He was the Elemental Magus! But… They knew Erin. He’d go into something he thinks he could handle and get himself tangled up in a sticky situation. The Storm, though? That’s a whole different beast. Tarren was already sort of worried when they heard of his expedition into the storm, so maybe… now that it’s gone, he’ll return to Asera?
The port was particularly busy for the next few days; people were leaving from towns near the storm and people coming in to explore the land unveiled by its disappearance. Through the crowds, Tarren had looked out for a mop of amethyst hair, billowy sleeves, and especially that flowing violet cloak that completed the platonic image of their friend in their mind. They knew he’d likely be passing through on his way back to Asera.
If he was coming back.
After nearly half a sef of being notably distracted from their work, Tarren elected to instead, distract themself with their work. They didn’t want to let their work be impeded by their own catastrophizing, and they certainly didn't want to think about their friend possibly being hurt or dead very much.
After a sef and a half, just when Tarren had nearly forgotten about it all, they caught that distinct shade of violet out of the corner of their eye.
They couldn’t help but look.
They'd swear their heart stopped.
From up in the harness, they spotted a mop of amethyst hair atop a flowing, violet cloak, with the occasional pale hand cuffed with a billowing sleeve peeking out to gesture.
Erin.
Thank the gods. He's alive!
A big grin split across Tarren's face.
“RUUNASER!”