It was still night but not long from sunup when they’d parted. Many assurances that he didn’t entirely feel assured by before he’d left her at her door. An hour or so more before he’d actually departed, leaving a shadowed eave and disappearing from sight. It felt wrong leaving as much as it felt wrong lingering in the dark, like he didn’t trust her despite her words. But it wasn’t her.
It was the Ink he didn’t trust.
Loyalty was strong but practicality won. If he stayed he might have been able to talk to her alone, but if more birds came calling? He didn’t even have his staff - he’d left it at Priarch in the commotion, forgotten in favor of taking Okuni’s hand instead. If they came now they would leave with more than one new bird. Or he’d be left dead in the grass more likely, considering how Raven had looked at him. And since he had no desire for that fate he was left to trust Okuni’s words and hope the flock would be preoccupied for the night.
Perhaps he understood Yves’s penchant for practicality more than he would admit.
Footsteps didn’t take him home- as much a home as Keenaire’s flat was. Nor did they find Priarch again and retrieve his staff. Instead he dropped into the first patch of grass he could find, digging fingers into the cool dirt. There was no moon tonight. Menphina had found fit to hide her face from this.
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