Mmm, skewers.

[igiko]

As the memories fade over the years, they revisit him in his dreams. In one such instance, he recalls her face and voice.

"Lucretia," he says, handing her a skewer, "try this."

"What is it?" she asks, taking it. She's young—far younger in appearance than the first and last times they met.

"It's the Holy Kingdom Special Skewer. While the Aernas Prayer Ceremony centers around a pilgrimage, there are stalls with all kinds of food like this one for those who prefer to remain in the capital. The skewers are some of the best."

Lucretia nods along once, then takes a bite of the skewer. Festival food is often fresh and juicy, and it's mouthwatering just watching someone else partake. She chews for a moment before swallowing with another nod. "It's quite good."

"Isn't it? If you're up for something sweet, there's cotton candy right around the corner."

He waves his own skewer, pointing it down the expansive street littered with stalls and people in various states of dress, some garbed in their pilgrim whites. Lucretia regards the latter with a thoughtful look as a gaggle of pilgrims pass them by.

"For free?" she asks. "We're not meant to embark on the pilgrimage, are we?"

Oh, no.

"Nah. You see how packed it is, don't you? If everyone here were to go on the pilgrimage, we'd all be getting in each other's way." He pulls a piece of meat off the skewer with his teeth and chews. "The Holy Kingdom of Roose is more devout than most kingdoms out there; they won't put profit over spreading their faith in the goddesses. Don't worry about it and just focus on enjoying the event."

They take a meandering stroll, peering at different stalls and finishing off their skewers. At the end of a street, where there's more breathing space, Lucretia perches a hand on her hip and glances behind them at the ceremony's vivacious display.

"This isn't what I had in mind when you talked about going out."

"No? What were you expecting?"

"Well," she starts, "fewer people, for starters. It's rather . . . crowded here."

"That's why it's perfect. It's easier to blend into a crowd than a smaller group."

Looking away from the festivities, she arches an eyebrow at him. "Are we hiding from someone?"

"Well . . . "

"Is there something you'd like to tell me, Sieghart?"

Lucretia has that analytic look about her, as if she's running through a baker's dozen of worst case scenarios. Sieghart sighs lightly and folds his arms across his chest. Ever a worrywort, this one—and a workaholic, to boot.

"Listen, it's nothing serious. I attended this ceremony before, and I thought the atmosphere and food were good. It's also easier to stay out of the kids' way like this. And . . . "

"And . . . ?"

"It's not like I have a house to which I can take you. You might as well see something worthwhile if you're going to make the trip to another dimension." However, leaving the answer there is awkward, so he quickly adds: "Lime's taken a liking to you as well, and this is her home."

Lucretia's features soften before she reaches out to brush her fingers against his nearest hand. They've done this long enough that he doesn't twitch anymore, though it's a wonder how anyone can engage as casually as she does.

"You could've just said so from the beginning, you know."

He makes a face, darting his gaze aside. "I thought the skewers would've been enough . . . " Lucretia smiles as she draws closer.

"It's all right, Sieghart. I don't mind. In fact, you're right—it's been worthwhile to see."

A thoughtful silence that's equally as awkward settles between them. The bustling crowd fades into the background before rushing back at once when a passerby brushes past Sieghart, who cracks a grin.

"Don't let Lime hear you, or she'll keep you here forever."

"And you'll let her?"

"No way. Absolutely not." Lime knows too much. The last thing he needs is Lime in a corner with Lucretia, gossiping about certain details and anecdotes that are better left unspoken. "I'll drag her away if I have to."

"Then it sounds like I've got nothing to worry about, haven't I?"

He chuckles as he grasps her hand and begins to lead her away, toward more of the festivites in spite of the solemn prayers attached to the ceremony. "Suppose not."

His eyes flutter open.

The light of festival day reflected in Lucretia's youthful eyes has faded into the dusky gray of a curtained room, shielding him from the inevitable rise of the sun in the distance as he rises alone: After all, millennia have passed since that moment. Still, his lips curl into the faintest of smiles as the unspoken memory of someone precious settles in his waking awareness.