Essetia

If he would have passed her by, left her to drown soundlessly by the sea, she would have forgotten the liberties he rendered her. When Essetia first met Caneo she had been a different animal altogether, a fine point to oppose his soft curves. Now, he appeared different, more attuned to himself than to the world that surrounded him, and that was a miracle worth achieving. He was no longer rounded, but hard. However, both the spy and the dreamer existed on polar planes of reality— when she was dark, he was light, and vice versa. Somehow it had always been that way between them and it worked for each of them to become the moon or the sun, an offset to one another’s enigma. Yet, their affinities had always afforded them a wide berth of honesty that wasn’t often found with anyone else. Essetia was unashamed with Caneo and was even less abashed to simply feel in his presence. They didn’t need walls to keep them apart or together— they came to one another at will, as friends would.

Of course, such appellations had never crossed Essetia’s lips nor did she ever desire the confines of titles and endearments. She was a flighty creature after all and she came and went as she pleased. “That’s good to hear.” It was not a lie; the mare was glad to hear that Caneo was settling nicely into their desert quarters despite the sweltering heat of a particularly nasty summer. And then he went about his way introducing, or rather just mentioning, the companion he’d yet to give name to while Essetia listened with rapt attention. She’d finally drawn away from contemplating the wash of white and the shells that swept onto the shore that had nestled at her feet. Instead, she studied the novel creature her dreamer had taken to heart, her eyes tracing the raised scales along the serpent’s back where she was not quite hidden from the sun. “Odd qualities for a reptile,” she commented with fascination. She wasn’t quite accustomed to ophidian breeds and their preferences, but appeared enraptured anyway.

Caneo had once done as much for her and Romul, even if the wolf was missing presently. As it dawned on her, Essetia grew momentarily distracted by her own version of regret. She did long for her companion and perhaps that was what had caused the rift in her heart to widen, but there was other news more integral to his absence than a mere day or two apart. “Romul stayed behind… in the Throat,” she answered without prompting. Caneo had come to know her well enough that she wouldn’t depart their home without him for good reason, but the cause deserved more explanation than a mere moment would allow.

She listened then, as Caneo talked about his fear of the sea, and she nodded lightly. A smile had touched her lips at his admission and she felt somehow lighter because of it. “I was born in the World’s Edge… the sound of the sea has also been a soothing one.” Then she turned again, gesturing out toward the roiling waves, “It still is, I think.”  But he was moving on, clearly in higher spirits than she, but more apt to hear what she had to share then. The spy didn’t think that birthing twins had been especially fun as Caneo put it, but it had been something special in all regards. She chuckled then, her eyes warming considerably as she thought of Gyda back home in the south, “I now have children if you can believe it—twins. What about you? Have you been up to anything fun?” Just like that, the truth was purged and then repressed, like a song that just wasn't good enough to sing in front of someone else. Essetia knew there would be questions, but until then, she would sit atop her mountain of regrets where she belonged.

And then, she knew their relationship was shifting, moving into something else, because she wasn’t a young spy anymore, just as young mother with too many responsibilities. Besides, ‘fun’ couldn’t possibly describe the wayward affections she shared for Ulrik or how large a toll they’d taken. She didn’t like to think about it anyway.