Eryshae

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Vael
Steam Room

The women's changing room was quiet, filled only with the soft rustle of linen and the faint gurgle of water running somewhere through the walls. Vael stood before a mirror, unfastening the last clasp on her travel-worn cloak. The polished stone tiles felt cool under her bare feet, grounding her in this unfamiliar yet soothing space. The air was warm, scented with eucalyptus and sea salt.

She paused for a moment, catching her own reflection. Her emerald-green hair, usually wild from wind or worry, was now neatly braided and pinned up, a small indulgence she had allowed herself after dusty roads. Her shoulders ached from long days in the carriage, but here, in the hush of the spa, even her bones seemed to exhale.

She pulled the light linen wrap around her body and tied it snugly at the waist. Simple, soft, and clean. A luxury she hadn't known she needed. Vael let out a slow breath, then stepped out into the hall. The corridor led into a gentle haze, steam curling from the open doorway of the spa's main chamber. She smiled, feeling the tension ease from her with each step.

The warmth enveloped her the moment she entered the steam room. Mist rolled in gentle waves, softening the light and muffling the world. Vael stepped inside and found a quiet corner on the stone bench, folding her legs beneath her and letting the heat seep into her skin.

She closed her eyes. For a long moment, she said nothing. Letting herself breathe. Letting herself feel. The silence gave way to memory; Toya's laughter echoing off cathedral walls, her fierce grip on Vael's shoulder, the way her eyes would narrow before she said something clever. Gone. No funeral. No closure. Just... gone. Burned up with the destruction of the Drowned Heron Inn.

And Mira.

Gods, Mira.

Vael swallowed hard, the steam slicking her cheeks and blurring the difference between sweat and sorrow. Mira had vanished, and though Sam held onto hope with both hands, Vael had seen enough of the world to know how many kinds of disappearance there were. Not all of them left a body.

The heat pressed against her chest, almost too much. She leaned forward, elbows on her knees, face in her hands. Her fingers trembled, but she said nothing. The stone beneath her was solid. The silence didn't judge.

Just for a moment, she allowed herself to grieve. Then came the sound of approaching footsteps; soft on stone, accompanied by the swish of a towel and the low exhale of someone entering steam. She didn't lift her head. Not yet.

She looked up as the door creaked open, and Thorian stepped in confidently, his form tall and unmistakable, clothed only in the standard linen wrap tied at his hips. His dark hair was damp at the temples, and the moment his eyes met hers, he gave a slight nod of acknowledgement.

Vael smiled softly and patted the empty stone beside her, steam rising in thin tendrils between them. "Cousin," she began, her voice smooth and slightly amused, "how have you and Caldris been?"

Thorian settled onto the stone beside her with a slow exhale, his muscles relaxing in stages, as if the weight of the world hung from each joint. For a while, the two cousins simply let the silence stretch; thick, but not uncomfortable. The quiet between them had always been a familiar one, born of shared childhoods, political banquets, and unspoken understandings.

"Caldris and I…" Thorian began, rubbing the back of his neck, "we're better than we've been in years." He gave a low chuckle. "She's still sharp as a dagger and just as fond of finding where it hurts." Vael's gaze softened. "But you love her for that."

"I do." His voice was quieter now. "More than I ever knew I could. She frightens me sometimes… how deeply she sees me. But she's the first to patch me back together after she breaks me open." Vael leaned her head against the wall, steam curling between them. "That sounds like love, cousin. Or torture."

He huffed a laugh. "Maybe both." She glanced at him sidelong, her lips quirking. "And she hasn't murdered you in your sleep yet?"

"Not yet. But she's come close." He smiled, then narrowed his eyes at her. "And what about you? Sam still has that tragic poet stare? Or has he learned how to smile without looking like he's remembering a ghost?"

Vael snorted. "He's learning. He still broods like a cathedral gargoyle, but he's warm in his own way. Like an ember. Slow to burn, but constant." She looked down at her hands, fingers curling against her thigh. "I think he sees me clearer than I see myself sometimes. It's... unsettling… but also endearing."

"Must run in the family," Thorian murmured, nodding with understanding. Then the warmth shifted. His tone deepened, threading with intent. "Vael, there's something you should know." She turned her head to him, brows lifting slightly.

"Caldris and I; we've been assembling a team. Old contacts, reliable blades, a few sea-blooded types from the eastern coast here in Ocean City."
Vael sat straighter, sensing the shift. "For what?" Thorian met her gaze directly, his expression serious beneath the steam. "There's a buried vault off the western coast of Bridgeton. Beneath the waves. Something older than any of us, possibly even from the First War. Something valuable enough that even Ni has been whispering about it. We plan to retrieve it before anyone else can." Vael's eyes narrowed. "You're treasure hunting."

"We're retrieving history," he corrected. "Dangerous history, maybe. But it's calling to Caldris. She dreams of it. And I trust her dreams more than most prophecies." Silence held them for a beat longer. Vael inhaled deeply. "You always did have a talent for turning death into poetry." Thorian smirked. "And you always did have a knack for surviving the fallout."

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Thorian leaned back against the slick stone wall, eyes half-lidded beneath the drifting curls of steam. "But I'm not asking you for an answer now," he said after a long pause. "Just… think about it." Vael studied his face; the relaxed posture couldn't quite hide the tension in his jaw, the twitch of nerves behind his calm.

"Talk it over with Sam," he added. "If either of you feel that old itch for adventure; or something more dangerous; you'll know where to find us." Vael didn't answer right away. The steam whispered between them, carrying eucalyptus and heat into every corner of her lungs. She watched a droplet slide down the side of Thorian's cheek and disappear into the linen at his chest.

"I'll talk to him," she said finally, her voice quieter. "But you already knew I would." Thorian smiled at that. "You're predictable in only the best ways." She flicked water from her fingertips at him. "And you're annoying in all the worst." He chuckled, but there was a flicker of something softer behind his grin; gratitude, perhaps, or relief.

"An hour," Thorian murmured. "Just enough time to burn the city off our skin." Vael leaned her head back again, letting the steam settle into her collarbones. "Let's hope that's all we burn."

Thorian exhaled a contented sigh and rolled his shoulders, the heat loosening something tight in his chest. "This is just the beginning, you know," he said, tilting his head toward her. "They've got an entire floor for hydrotherapy. Cold plunges, mineral baths, even some ridiculous glowing cave that claims to recalibrate your spirit. Whatever that means." Vael arched her brow. "That sounds made up."

"Oh, it absolutely is. But the water is hot, the lights are pretty, and they bring you fermented fruit juice in tiny crystal goblets. You'll believe in anything after two of those." She smirked, folding her arms across her knees. "What else?"

Thorian held up his fingers and began ticking them off. "Mud baths, salt scrubs, scalp massages, steam chambers infused with all sorts of herbs; peppermint, sage, something I swear was just cinnamon bark boiled in vengeance. And; " he leaned in conspiratorially "the saunas upstairs are built with polished obsidian and volcanic stone. They say it was imported from the fissure lands to the south." Vael's smirk deepened. "Are you trying to tempt me into becoming a woman of luxury?"

"I wouldn't dare." His grin curved lazily. "But if you're going to risk your life tomorrow, you might as well get lavender poured over your head today." She chuckled, low and genuine. "You make a compelling argument."

"There's even a massage therapist named Elmira who walked on my back once," he said. "Nearly broke every bone in my body, and I've never felt better." Vael blinked at him. "That sounds like something Sam would actually enjoy."

"Oh, absolutely," Thorian said. "Give her twenty minutes and he'll be babbling like a drunk priest." She paused, the steam curling between them. "And what would you recommend for a woman who hasn't had a real breath of peace in weeks?" Thorian's expression shifted; less teasing now. "The mineral bath in the western wing. It's silent, candlelit, and there's a garden that grows along the wall. No one talks there. Not even the staff."

That gave her pause. "Go after this," he said, voice gentler. "Or go with Sam later. But go. Let yourself be still, even if it's only for a little while." Vael nodded slowly, the heat dulling her usual reflex to deflect with sarcasm. "Alright. I will, thank you cousin."

Thorian let the silence settle between them again, not needing to fill it. Steam rose. Muscles relaxed. And for the first time in a long time, the world outside the stone walls of the spa truly felt distant.

Thorian leaned back into the marble bench, the steam curling lazily around his broad shoulders. "If the spa doesn't spoil you rotten, the city might." Vael tilted her head, her braided emerald hair still damp from the heat. Her eyes gleamed with curiosity. "Oh? Do tell."

"There's sailing," Thorian began, his voice slow and easy. "Chartered ships if you want the full experience, or little two-person skiffs you can rent by the hour. Caldris and I took one out last time. She got soaked, and tried to act like it was part of the plan." Vael laughed softly, the sound echoing warmly off the tiled walls.

He grinned at the memory. "There's the boardwalk too; sprawling thing. Food stalls, illusion booths, old-fashioned fortune tellers, and taverns stacked elbow to elbow. You could get drunk three times and never leave the same block."

"That sounds... dangerous," Vael teased.

"Dangerous, yes, but fun." Thorian smirked. "And if you're feeling more low-key, there's a place that hosts competitive board games. Weekly tournaments. Caldris somehow won one using a game she'd never played before."

"Of course she did," Vael said with a roll of her eyes. "What else?"

"There's always the ocean. Swimming at sunrise. Cold water, strong current, wakes you right up. Some mornings, it's the only thing that feels real." Vael went quiet at that, watching the steam dance in the air between them. "That sounds... grounding."

"It is." Thorian nodded. "When you've got a mind like Caldris', it helps to be reminded of the world outside your head." He looked over at her, his voice softening. "You'd like it, Vael. You should try it all while you're here. You've earned some joy." Her expression gentled, and she reached for his hand briefly before leaning back again. "Maybe I will, cousin." They let the silence linger; comfortable and warm, like the heat that wrapped around them both.

The thick steam curled around them like whispers from the ocean itself; hissing gently through the stone vents and warming every inch of the chamber. Vael leaned back against the smooth bench, her eyes half-lidded, the heat softening the tension in her muscles. Thorian sat across from her, his arms relaxed over the edge of the tiled bench, head tilted back, letting the heat wash over him in silence.

For several long minutes, neither of them spoke. Only the low hum of the steam filled the space between them, a shared silence that felt more comfortable than words. Vael let her eyes close completely. The haze made it easy to forget the weight of things. The buried treasure. Caldris' nightmares. Sam's safety lingering in her chest.

Then;

"So, cousin…" Thorian's voice cut through the haze, casual and clear. "When is the wedding?" Vael's eyes blinked open slowly, caught off-guard, her brow lifting slightly as the corners of her mouth twitched. A beat passed before she said anything.

"…Wha… wedding?"

Thorian's expression was maddeningly unreadable, though his eyes glittered with mischief through the fog. "The one where you finally stop dragging your feet and marry Sam Faeloc, of course." Vael exhaled a soft laugh, sitting up slightly. "That's bold talk from someone who's still playing house with Caldris."

"I didn't deny it," Thorian said, smug. "But I'm not the one looking at another city-state every time someone mentions commitment." Vael scoffed. "He's been through too much. I've been through too much. We're still… healing." Thorian's smirk softened. "Then maybe that's the perfect time." Another silence settled. This one deeper, heavier with thought. Vael traced a bead of condensation on the bench beside her. "Maybe," she murmured. "That is a chapter for another day, cousin." He nodded, satisfied. "Good. Because I already have a suit picked out."