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Sen is awake. What woke them is a mystery. Sleep still clings to them, pushing its claws into their bones. Their limbs are heavy because of it. They breathe in softly. There is no sound, and for a moment - only brief - they wonder if they have lost their hearing entirely.
When they fell asleep initially, Lae'zel was beside them, allowing herself to rest after pushing her body to its limits in battle. She struggled to carry her sword back to camp, Sen remembers, and refused help to lessen the burden of any weight. A soldier, she told them. Sturdier than any other.
The bard turns in the bedroll to see an empty space. Coldness seeps in, creeping up their spine and lingering at the back of their neck. With their aching body, they get themself to their feet, swaying, drunk on sleep, cloaking a blanket around their shoulders. They squint into the darkness, past the night, and spot the silhouette of their hearts most valuable. She sits alone on the shore. Holding her knees close to her chest. Sen sneaks through camp, bare feet on dirt and soil, then sand and rocks. What warmth the sun had blessed during the day has worn off now. It feels quiet and lonely, and Sen is grateful to find an anchor in the vacuum of this space.
‘Found you.’ They say, playful lilt on their tongue. Lae'zel drags her gaze away from the Astral Plane and offers a tight lipped smile before pushing her thumb into her palm and tracing the creases in her skin. Sen places themself next to Lae'zel, not too close, but close enough. They follow her line of sight from her hands to the stars. It's beautiful tonight. Constellations clearer than ever. They smile, white teeth and bright eyes, and look at Lae'zel, wanting to share their awe in this moment separate from time. But Lae'zel is shielded. Folding inward. Sen's smile drops slowly and they decide with care to keep their words to themself. Silent are the seconds that fly overhead.
The moon beams down, shimmering across the water. Gentle waves pour themselves onto the sand and drag themselves back again. In the distance, just above the treeline, morning glows upwards in an orange hue. The world is dreaming, yet here they are, seemingly alone in their consciousness with the crickets and owls for company.
Lae'zel takes a short breath and lets her thoughts walk freely into the quiet. ‘Your home,’ she says, ‘where is it?’
‘I grew up in the Gate.’ Sen tells her. ‘But it was never quite home .’ Lae'zel hums and Sen refrains from asking the same question. Something in their gut tells them this is not the time. A breeze off the water makes them both shiver. Instinctively, Sen outstretches one side of the blanket, holding Lae'zel close when she shuffles into the warmth. She leans into their touch and lets her head rest on Sen's shoulder. All her sharp edges dull when no one else is around.
‘Is there a word for missing a place?’ She asks. Her voice is quiet, almost hiding from itself.
They rest their head against Lae'zel's. ‘Homesick.’ Sen says.
~
It's a few days later. The group are helping the tiefling refugees pack up everything in preparation for their journey to Baldur's Gate. Sen is helping Dammon when they pick up a strange rock and brush a layer of dust from its surface. It's small and black as the night, supposedly polished to be shinier than the stars. Onyx, perhaps? As they tilt the rock to the light, a whirlpool of colour spirals within.
Curiosity takes over. ‘What's this?’ Sen asks, knees clicking as they stand.
Dammon wipes sweat from his brow and paces over. ‘Ah,’ he says, ‘a good find. It fell from the sky, burned bright as the Hells on its way down. Left a crater the size of a house.’ He pauses, hands on his hips. ‘Or so I was told.’ He shrugs. The two marvel over the rock, watching the colour spiral swirl around. ‘You've not taken any offer of reward for helping us.’ He says, getting back to putting possessions in crates. He shuffles an anvil towards the rest of the stuff. ‘I'm sure it's worth little, but if you want it, it's yours for the taking.’
Sen looks from Dammon back to the stone. It reminds them of the stars. An idea strikes like lightning within them.
~
Intricately wound, the stone sits in a cradle of string, ready to be worn around the neck. Sen inspects their work like an artist. No detail left undone. They hope their handiwork survives the battles ahead. They join the others around the campfire, nerves building within. The excitement and suspension of gift giving. As the night grows older, they decide to venture off towards the outskirts of camp, walking backwards to send a smug look over to Lae’zel who rolls her eyes and follows suit not long after. Sen leads her to a secluded space, finding the stone in their pocket and smoothing the surface with the pad of their thumb. It’s dark this far out of camp, path only lit by the moon. Lae’zel stumbles over a branch and curses under her breath.
‘What is the meaning behind your secrecy?’ She asks, eyes narrowed.
‘Privacy.’ Sen tells her. ‘Not secrecy.’ They can’t keep the smile from their face. The gift feels as special to them as it could to their lover.
Lae’zel’s brow twitches with curiosity, her lips creasing into a subdued smile themselves. She looks down to Sen’s hands, enveloped in pockets. Fidgeting. ‘Out with it.’ She says, dividing the space between them.
The bard pulls out their hand, stone warm in their grip. ‘Close your eyes.’ They command, holding the stone in their fist. Lae’zel is reluctant but does as asked. ‘Hold out your hand.’ They’re giddy with the control they have over the warrior.
‘If you put a spider in my hand, I’ll have your head.’
‘Don’t threaten me with a good time.’
Lae’zel swears under her breath again, not quite managing to hold in a laugh, and reaches her hand outwards with her palm to the stars. The warmth of Sen’s hand supporting hers makes the hairs on the back of her neck stand. Slowly, something is placed into her grasp, and the comfort of another's hands on hers is revoked. She opens her eyes somewhat hesitantly, and comes to inspect the stone as if it were as fragile as glass. It reflects the sky deeper than any microscope and paints its colours better than any artist could. She looks from the stone to Sen, who hugs themself in excitement.
‘It’s not spiders.’ They say with all the seriousness they can muster.
Lae’zel breaks her gaze back to the stone, rotating it in her hand, watching the spiral of sparkles shimmer in the moonlight. It feels difficult to breathe in for a moment, face hot for reasons she couldn’t pinpoint, heart singing songs she didn’t recognise. Had she ever been given a gift with such heartfelt sentiment?
‘It reminded me of the stars.’ Sen explains. ‘And in turn, you.’
She struggles to say something - anything. An internal conflict of wanting to say something but wanting that thing to be the right thing. She reaches out to hold Sen’s hand, that familiar warmth radiating through her. It quells the rising nerves of that internal battle. ‘Thank you.’ She says.
Sen gently takes the stone from her grasp, rounding Lae’zel in an ancient dance of pushing her hair to one side to tie the ends of the necklace together. Expertly knotted, the stone sits proud in the dip of Lae’zel’s collar bones.
Lae’zel finds Sen in the depths of the night, seeping into their bedroll, enclosing them both in shared body heat. Sen holds her sleepily, delicately, and it makes her feel like more than just a soldier. Her purpose feels greater in the arms of this bard. She presses a kiss to Sen’s neck and settles into the space under their chin. Life hadn’t gone the way she planned so far, but having Sen by her side made it easier. She never thought she would laugh so much… and feel so loved. Perhaps home isn’t an asteroid in the sea of the Astral Plane, or a battlefield of death and glory, but here, in the arms of someone who cares… Home could well be nights around campfires.
Home could be Sen.