Savior’s Respite, one of his favorite quiet spots despite or perhaps because of its morbid legends. Many mornings and afternoons find him there, staring out over cliff’s edge, lost in his thoughts be they troubled or peaceful. This afternoon is no different, except that on his quiet arrival to the worn path his eyes are drawn to something else first.
Familiar red hair, vibrant and crimson, parted by two horns. The shorter girl is in the midst of what appears to be diving out of sight, which, in retrospect, fits with her shyer moments. It’s almost hard to believe she once let lava flow over districts, but only almost.
It’s been so long since that fateful day and turbulent times back in the hive, but he pushes memories aside to call out to her instead.
“Ava...? Is that you?” Oz says, scanning the foliage where he thinks she might be, “Please, don’t hide on my account.”