“Behold, a fragment of my power!” ~
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I really enjoy Julian’s new tale, I always wondered what would happen after we finished his route and thankfully we had the change to visit Nevivon :”3 Also he wanted us to call him by Julian haha, I made Daerlynn calls his name Illya all the time.
Featuring Apprentice!Lyra Nguyen, Julian Devorak, Portia Devorak, the locals of Nevion, and the late Lilinka.
Upon arrival in Nevion, Lyra got swept up in a grand scale of warm greetings from Portia and Julian’s childhood friends. The latter rescues Lyra as their questioning grows to be overwhelming for her.
The crowd shuffles them from the docks to one of the local pubs. The bartender instantly recognizes Julian, admonishing him for being away for so long.
“Well I’m here now, aren’t I?” Julian replies. He gets a drink for that, and that’s how it all begins.
As Julian is surrounded by his friends, his very presence also gets the attention of other patrons. This leaves Lyra off to the far end of the table, though she didn’t mind. Between them, Julian’s the more sociable one.
Lyra keeps to herself for the most part. This doesn’t last for long, for she’s soon politely making conversation with those that wanted to know more about her. They want to know how this young woman got entangled in Julian’s heartstrings.
One person, however, stands out to Lyra. This person sulks nearby, no more than two people away from her. They didn’t seem to be very impressed with any of the conversation pertaining to the young woman.
When Portia notes Lyra is a powerful magician that’s sweet, kind, and a bookworm, there’s a scoff from the bitter patron.
“To be honest, I don’t think you’re Ilya’s type,” they snidely comment. From those within earshot, people give them a harsh reprimand, the loudest being Portia. Another patron goes so far as to throw a balled-up cloth napkin at the rude one.
“Well, you’re certainly not his,“ Lyra mumbles under her breath. Portia hears her regardless, snickering behind her hand.
Lyra gulps some water, taking a breath. Calm down calm down calm down. She stands, using the chair she vacated as a step, and hops on the table. Watch your step . . .
She approaches to where Julian’s seated, minding the table settings around her. The doctor’s startled upon realizing her added height, but his bewildered expression grows into a grin.
“Yes darling?” Julian asks. As he looks up at her, it’s seen that his gray eye is full of adoration. His gaze makes Lyra feel light.
She wordlessly holds out her hand, trying not to tremble. Julian’s gloved one takes it, and is gracefully pulled onto the table with her.
As if on cue, people pull instruments out from behind the bar.
We take turns being the ship that cast off all their moor lines, with the bow pointed to open ocean. Likewise, we’re each other’s anchor . . .
The thought soothes her, steadying her hands in Julian’s gloved one and on his hip. He was leading tonight.
Julian calls out a beat, and Lyra swings them both into an impromptu dance to the loud intro of a folk song.
On Mazelinka’s ship, the pair had practiced this particular dance. Then, the melody was hummed out by Julian, clapped out by Portia, Maz, and the rest of the crew.
Lyra’s grateful for it. A part of her revels in absolute joy as the person who voiced their rude opinion leaves the bar.
That was worth it.
***
“. . . and they were really rude about it!” Portia snaps, shaking her head.
Portia, Julian, and Lyra were making their way back to Mazelinka’s ship. While Lyra would’ve rather let sleeping dogs lie, Portia has blurted to her brother about what happened before Ly took her steps onto the table.
“It’s not a big deal . . .” Lyra murmurs, shaking her head. She readjusts her hold on Julian’s forearm, adding, “They were spouting nonsense. I know how Julian feels about me, and I know how I feel about him.”
“My dear,” Julian replies, “while I, uh, don’t wish to drag it, er, along any further, what they said affected you . . .”
“ . . . you looked ready to cry.”
. . . was she? Lyra stops in her tracks, prompting Julian to do as well. As she frantically mulls over it, Julian insists that Portia go on ahead.
“We’ll meet you there, Pasha,” Julian nods. Portia returns the gesture, making her way onward without them.
Julian shifts his arm to gently wrap over Lyra’s shoulders. “Walk with me?”
“Mm,” she nods. Lyra follows his lead, snuggling closer to his side.
“ . . . I think I know who they are,” Julian murmurs, taking a step in another direction.
“Who?”
“I rejected them a long time ago,” Julian chuckles. “It looks like they’re still bitter about it.”
“Huh.”
“I don’t think they’ll bother you anymore,” Julian reassures. “If not, we can make out in the middle of the road and—OOF!”
Lyra elbows him in the side, making him squawk. She laughs, soon pulling Julian into a kiss, apologetic.
After that, they walk in comfortable silence. It seems that they’re going nowhere in particular, until they pass by a sign that makes Julian pause.
“What is it?” Lyra murmurs.
“Ah, it’s the graveyard,” Julian replies. “Lilinka is buried in there . . .”
“The grandma that raised you?”
“Yes.”
They stand there a while, listening to the night breeze caress the boughs of trees.
“ . . . may I make introductions?” Julian murmurs.
Lyra nods, following his lead into the graveyard. Lyra produces an orb of light, passing it over the headstones arranged all around them. Many of them are people of middle age, and a handful are just a few months old.
Those make her wince the most.
Soon, the pair come upon a little headstone, just under a tree. Lyra shifts her arm away from Julian, helping him to clear the leaves. As he pulls the weeds, Lyra sets them into a small refuse bin a little ways away.
Once the area is completely cleared, Julian and Lyra kneel in front of the headstone. Julian greets it in Nevivi, his voice watery. He speaks a bit, on occasion gesturing to Lyra.
Lyra holds his hand, rubbing her thumb over the leather of his glove. Once he’s finished, he rubs his neck.
“ . . . I, er, told her about getting accused of murder . . .”
Lyra laughs, shaking her head. “I can only imagine her reaction!”
Julian concurs, his own laughter joining Lyra’s in a duet. He hugs her from the side, nuzzling the top of her head. In turn, she leans toward his cool body.
“Mm . . .” Lyra hums. Guiding the sphere of light back to herself, she asks, “Do you think she’d like me?“
“Knowing her?” Julian murmurs, kissing the top of her head. “Without a doubt.”
