“Come back to the Edge with me.?” It was a statement, but also vaguely a question. Her tone was infused with finality, but there was also some interpretation allowed. There were no options, but he had a choice. Why? Because he was Mauja. He was a killer, perhaps even the serial murderer, but he was also a friend and, when she had fallen to her lowest, who had she looked to for help? Her friends had picked her up from her darkest moments and brought her back to the light. Could she really look at Mauja now, dug so deeply into a hole, and pour water and threats of drowning over him?

Maybe if she someone else she could have stood by her convictions, and hated him for terrorizing Helovia- but she wasn’t another person. She was Kahlua- fluid, emotional, dramatic, fickle even, but in the end (history aside) she was pure of heart. Could she look at this breaking man- I think I’m about to lose my mind- and turn away from his outstretched hand. She had come to him looking for a fight, or answers, or an explanation. She had taken from him, now it was time to give- support, her ears, her love- and her open home, forced upon him more than gifted to him, but he was a frog in his proverbial pot of water. The liquid around him had been cold at first, heated slowly, and perhaps he did not know he was overheating until the water was almost boiling. She was his escape route, if only he would take it.

It did not change that she feared him. He would be a monster in her forest, a demon in the shadows that she had unleashed but could not control. But then… how many times could he have destroyed her by now? If his plans were to hurt her, he would have done it. If his plans were to hurt her forest… she would just have to have hope that the forest was stronger than him. The trees there knew him, after all- his history, his heart, his heartbreaks and aches. The lady moon would keep them safe, when (or if) he accepted.

But then, there were other matters to attend to. His misplaced mind, for one. For a moment, her own mind wandered off, drifting back to a time when she had felt broken. She had looked to the Lady Moon for guidance then. The words were distant, foggy in many ways, but the important ones were still there, creeping along the margin of her consciousness, willing to be spoken again, to try and heal another broken soul.

“It wasn’t your fault,” she started, unsure what else besides Psyche’s death was affecting him. She was not a mind reader or particularly clever at divining such things by reading another’s face. Not that Mauja’s would have been readable. He was a stony as ever. “The blame belongs to the killer.” Empty words. He knew these things. He was smarter than her, surely he had already had these thoughts ten times over. “But letting your mind run away isn’t going to fix anything. We… I… She needs you.”

For a moment she fell silent again, shifting and swaying as she pondered and considered where she was supposed to go from here. What grandiose ideas she was supposed to provide for him, what medicines she could conjure to repair his shattered soul. She had nothing but tincture of time to offer. She knew too well the way that her own soul healed- slowly, but with purpose, the pain fading over time until only a scar remained, a fracture line in something that had once been whole and beautiful. But then… again, the idea of friendship was there, whispering in the back of her mind, reminding her that there was more than just days, and weeks, and months that could fix things. So she asked the question she had asked him before again, but made this less about her. This was Mauja’s heartbreak, not hers. “What can I do for you?”

And this time, she stepped forward. Her nose reached out. Slowly, tentatively, but the action was purposeful- an offer. Her touch, if he would accept it. It was all she had.

Khan & Kahlua