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“I’ll be going for awhile,” she says just before they part, a perplexingly unordinary way to end their short get-together in the middle of their breaks, “maybe a couple of days. A week max, I’m sure.”
Phoebe watches her face for a second, unsure of how to respond—it’s not that they aren’t close enough for it to be strange for her to tell her this, she’d argue that she was one of the few people she likes to keep around, because Zani herself told her just as much, for some odd reason.
Seeing someone from the Order linger around the presence of someone with her appearance was a strange sight—but Phoebe has always been a kindred spirit to the unknown, so it isn’t like she cared much for the questioning looks sent her way whenever they hang around, anyways.
“I see.” she ends up with, just as a prelude to assure her that she gets the message with how long it took for her to give any sort of feedback, “...Why are you telling me this?”
Zani chuckles, reminiscing; “Because the last time I went away to Egla Town for two days to help secure a contract,” she grins slightly at the memory of returning to a worried Acolyte and a staff who’d almost hit her over the head with a force she’d been afraid of since the day she first saw what it was capable of, “I remember you standing in front of my door with a basket of goodies for someone who was sick.”
Phoebe raises her hands at that particular callback, “In my defense,” she exerts, because she had her reasons—particularly good reasons, if Phoebe might say so herself, and also because Zani had nodded in understanding when she defended herself back then, so this was just as much her own agreement biting her back; “you didn’t respond to me at all when I called! I mean, I know now that’s because the signal had been particularly bad that time, but when you came back, you looked like you were going to double over and let yourself be carried away by Cuddle Wuddles to meet Imperator above.”
“Mmh, well,” Zani looks away, realizing that her argument still stands strong till this day, especially considering how efficient she was at answering when people pinged her up; “that’s what Egla Town’s nectarwine does to you, you know?”
There’s a line in the codex about keeping one’s alcohol content at a level that’s respectable, that a limit is instilled in all humans for a reason by Imperator above—but Zani’s not one to remember such verses by heart, and Phoebe feels like she wouldn’t appreciate a preaching right now, not when she’ll have to go back to her daily life of office chatters and dizzying paperwork, so;
“No, I don’t.” she replies instead.
“And that’s why I still have to bring you out to drink a little—not until you get drunk, of course.” Zani remarks, adding the part at the end because an incident had happened the other day where an Acolyte caused a public nuisance for being inebriated with a twenty percent alcohol content level in his blood. “You don’t have to worry this time, yeah?” she says next, but she always likes to end it with something that’ll lighten up the mood, especially when Phoebe fusses over her like this, cheekily following it up with a; “Though I wouldn’t reject another housewarming package when I get back.”
Phoebe hums noncommittally, not all that surprised by her request, “You could just ask one of me straight.”
“Now where would be the fun in that?” she stands up, stretching her hands and preparing herself for the walk back to the vault; the question isn’t a serious inquiry as it is a rhetorical one—though Phoebe feels like she’d actually answer her seriously if she hadn’t known her as well as she does now, “I’ll wait for the present out of the kindness of your heart, Acolyte Phoebe.”
Phoebe chuckles, “My, then you’ll have to wait to see if I do get you something.” she says while she readies up her own staff to lead her back to the Cathedral as if she’s considering—but she will, anyways, because she likes seeing the look on her face when she surprises her, though she’ll have to start thinking of what to get her later for that to happen, “Out of the kindness of my heart, of course.”
It’s done, now—this is where their script ends for the day, even for the week considering how they wouldn’t be meeting anytime soon. Zani will go back to her long shift hours with a sigh and Phoebe will find herself humming the tune of their sermon’s choir as she skips down to the company of anyone who needs her along. It should finish here—there’s nothing else to be said.
Still, it’s not everyday that she finds out that someone she’s come to cherish won’t be in her vicinity for more than a day, the thought of it still yet to settle in her head. Her echo friends don’t have business trips to go to, a friend like Rover is someone she knows she’ll part with at the end and that’s something she’s braced for, but someone who’s lived in the same place she has almost her whole life, someone she’s come to cherish—it’s not like she makes those kinds of connections everyday, she’s never quite known anyone like this before.
A memory from her childhood fits its way into her head, then, after slowly inserting itself into her consciousness at the mention of her parents, and she stops her staff momentarily at the thought.
Phoebe turns around at the last second, just before they can disappear out of each other’s view, “Wait!”
Zani halts in her tracks, looks back to see her dashing to her frantically, almost slipping off her staff along the way. “What is it?” she asks.
Phoebe reaches out to her, without much of an explanation, “Give me your hand.”
She doesn’t comply immediately; maybe questioning to herself what on Imperator’s green grounds does she need to do with her hands for her to have to do it now instead of later—still, she does extend it to her, after some few seconds of aimless wondering, because it’s not that straining of a request.
When Phoebe raises it up to her mouth, lips pressing softly against the back of her palm; she can hear Zani holding her breath, who’s not exactly sure what to expect but knowing she expected anything but this.
“My mother used to do this with my father whenever he had to go on business expeditions to other places that’ll take more than a day for him to do,” she explains, says used to with a slight tremor in her voice, because her mother doesn’t do this anymore—she can’t do this anymore, not when she’s returned to Them with him and left her here with the memory of her goodnight lullabies to recite in her mind; “she told me she did it to give him her blessings—that when he went away to a place where we couldn’t reach him so easily, she’ll hope for the Sentinel to always be with him and take care of him wherever he goes.”
(Phoebe doesn’t add the part where the tradition normally happens between husband and wife—she doesn’t need to, does she?
The context is there, with the fact she mentioned her parents. What matters are the intentions that she has. It doesn’t matter that she liked the way her heart thrummed whenever Zani smiles at her a little more lightly than she does with other people, it doesn’t matter that Brenno, Livia and Beppe tell her she always glows a little brighter minutes after meeting her, or that she finds herself spending a little more time praying for her wellness to her God late at night.
She has her reasons—the previously aforementioned Egla Town incident can start as a baseline, for one. Not being able to know her condition when she’s away is something her mother would know, Phoebe thinks, remembering how her mother would wait by the door biting her fingers if he’d come home even a minute later than he should.
And there are many other reasons far from this one—like how she lives off a beverage that Phoebe can barely even stomach the taste of, one whose nutritional labels give her an even larger scare every time she sees it to remember its contents; or that every time she sees her she feels like the bags under her eyes look sag ever so slightly more than they did before despite the fact that every single last time she thinks so, it couldn’t get anymore worse.
Phoebe trusts her, she does—but there’s no telling what could ever happen. She trusted her parents too, that they’ll always be with her till the end of her life—but they can’t play God, this is something they know well, and sometimes it feels like one of them simply doesn’t have it in her to care that much—not when she has other work to do ten days out of seven, and sometimes, because of it, the other will slip in a reminder to get some vegetables in their diet every now and then.)
Zani doesn’t reply just yet—she needs a further explanation, Phoebe thinks she’s asking for from the way she’s staring at her, stuck in place.
She takes a deep breath, “So, what I’m saying is…” don’t leave this world so soon—don’t think that no one won’t miss your presence even if it’s just for a week—take care of yourself—there’s always people living here in Ragunna to welcome you with open arms, even though there will always be those who scorn away the light they refuse to see inside you and it’s something I pray to stop everyday—I’ll be waiting, even if I don’t always say it straight; “…come back home safely.”
And it’s only then that Zani releases her breath, eyes darting over her hand first—where Phoebe’s lips had laid upon just seconds ago, the traces of her warmth still lingering like an ever-present ache; when she utters the second last word that came out of her mouth, Phoebe can feel her gaze fixed into her own.
Home, she’d said. If prompted for further answers, Phoebe would gladly say that the word was just another way of saying Ragunna—because this city was her home. Even if Zani didn’t consider it to be one, she’d simply said home just because it rolled off the tongue easier, and saying house didn’t fit so well. It was what her mother always said since her father was to come to their home specifically, it’s not something needing further analysis, just another straightaway word she doesn’t have to pay too much attention to.
But the way Zani looks at her is something she feels like she should pay attention to, tuts a part of her mind because it’s not everyday that she does this to someone—not everyday she feels like she’s being watched with a tenderness that threatens to haunt her in her sleep and creep behind her back when she’s softly wondering when she might return despite knowing that she’ll be one of the firsts she’ll call, if not the first one she’ll call.
Zani laughs, endeared, eyes forming into crescents as she puts her free hand behind her back.
“I will.” Zani assures her after a period of silence, the same prelude to let her know she’s registered her words, and it’s a promise in itself even without their pinkies having to graze against one another the way she would with the orphanage kids when she swears she’ll bring them twice the pizzas they normally would get, “I’ll come back home safely.”
(To you, she doesn’t add—but her tail’s shaking so fervently out of a shyness behind her back despite the fact that she’s containing it with one hand, and she’d really rather not add to its meltdown if Phoebe decides she’ll want to break it even further by blushing an even deeper red, too.)