"It's fine," Eyvel casually waves towards the merchant, "let me cover it."
"A-Are—" The woman standing next to her at the fruit stall looks up at the mercenary bemusedly. She was a thin little thing, dressed in a humble blouse and re-stitched skirt. Definitely not a fighter. Housewife, perhaps. The sack of apples she'd been trying to buy sit unsold on the counter, the recent hike in prices from the winter season making them just a bit too expensive for what this lady could manage.
"Are you sure, madame? It's your gold, and..."
Eyvel smiles warmly. "Perfectly. I've got enough to keep me fed and warm. With all those apples, lemme guess—you've got a few mouths to feed, too?"
The woman nods timidly, "My... my children, yes. A boy and girl..."
The mercenary chuckles, her eyes wistful at that. Though she would have given anything to watch Febail and Patty grow up, she would not trade the time she had with Mareeta, Leif and Nanna either. "I know what that's like. So go on, take it. Mother to mother."
After another moment of deliberation, the woman slowly nods, a grateful smile spreading across her lips. "Thank you so much! I'll be sure to repay you someday, Miss...?"
"Eyvel." She responds, "But really, don't worry about it. I'd do it again in a heartbeat."
As she always had. Supporting the people of Fiana, suffering under the tyranny of bandits and South Thracia's limited resources. Even back during her days in the Orgahil—she felt no qualms about joining the captain in demanding fees from the ships seeking passage towards Bragi Tower. The passengers were frivolous and rich, the crew needed to survive, and the money would go to much better use given to the poor of Agustria, left to suffer as the lords played their political games.
She slips a few gold coins onto the counter and pats the woman on her shoulder, turning to leave, when—
Ah. Speaking of Agustria.
Eyvel sees it, with her memory restored. The girl's resemblance to Lachesis, albeit with features softened by youth. But there was a steel in both their eyes; an understanding of loss, the world, and its many hardships. The resilience to fight against them, even then, standing tall in the face of whatever came their way.
The warrior smiles. How she's grown... perhaps a bit too quickly.
"Little Nan..." She starts quietly, then more loudly calls to the girl standing in the middle of the market, "Little Nan! Is that you?"
The voice struck her before the name did.
Little Nan.
For a heartbeat, the marketplace dissolved. The winter air, the merchants, the bustle of strangers moving between stalls—all of it seemed to recede beneath the weight of a single memory. She was small again. Small enough to fit beneath a patched blanket in a fishing village. Small enough that a scraped knee or an empty stomach still felt like the end of the world. Small enough to look up and find Eyvel already there, steady as the sea-beds off of Fiana.
The turn of her head was immediate.
"...Eyvel?"
Nanna had grown taller since those days. Older. Her dresses finer, her posture more practiced, her responsibilities heavier than either of them might have imagined when she was running with hand-me-down boots through Fiana's streets. Yet the sight of Eyvel standing there with that familiar smile made all those years collapse inward at once.
And then she noticed what had drawn Eyvel's attention in the first place.
The apples. The grateful mother. The handful of coins surrendered without hesitation. A laugh escaped her, warm with recognition.
"Of course."
Her smile broadened as she crossed the remaining distance between them. Likened to what, Nanna wondered. Almost a mother, almost a daughter. Almost an aunt, almost a niece. To the great many things they were not, Eyvel was family, most definitely. Family.
"...Some things never change."
The affection in her voice carried no accusation. If anything, it sounded suspiciously like pride. Nanna had spent enough years watching Eyvel empty her own pockets for the sake of others to recognize the pattern immediately. There had always been room at her table for one more person. Always another blanket to spare. Another meal to stretch. Another burden she would quietly shoulder before anyone else thought to ask. Nanna wondered if the woman from the fruit stall realized how fortunate she had been to cross paths with her.
Before she could stop herself, her gaze dropped briefly to Eyvel's hands. Those same hands had taught sword forms in dusty fields, brushed hair from fevered foreheads, and carried children who were not hers by blood but loved all the same. The swell that rose in her chest caught her off guard.
"Hehe..." Her smile softened. "I was beginning to think I might have to follow a trail of charitable deeds to find you. I would not be surprised if every village has a story already brewing about you."
It carried years within it. Homesickness for a place that had never really been a place at all, but rather the people who had filled it.
"I am glad to see you!!!"
And for all the crowns, titles, and distant lands that had come afterward, Nanna thought she sounded very much like Little Nan when she said it.
