Page 27 of The Cerulean Sister
The pathway is cramped the moment we step into it, people busily moving to their destination, their clothes utilitarian and worn in the same cut for every type of person. The fabric varies from plain neutrals to dark shades and brighter accessories are worn by some, matching the group they are with. I wonder if they are families who wear corresponding adornments or if they simply work in the same place.
Even though the atmosphere is upbeat, 99 keeps glancing back to check on me with a nervousness that seeps into our tether. It's like he is showing me a secret, something intimately his, and unsure how it will be received.
Little shops line either side of the street, selling various items: cloth, unknown foods of all kinds, and jewelry.
99 holds my hand as we filter through smiling people who seem to make way for us. He nods in greeting when they respectfully address him, some even staring as we walk. It's clear the shopkeepers are used to seeing him by their familiar words, but the people passing on their way to somewhere else seem a little more in awe of him.
An elderly woman holding a small basket of orange, spikey fruit waves for our attention and shuffles forward.
"It has been a while, 99th Commander. How do you fair?" She holds the basket up, offering it. "Please, take these, for you and your lady love."
She smiles at me as if we have met before but beams even brighter when 99 thanks her, complimenting her harvest and instructing Commander Yeva to carry them back with us.
We turn down another street just past the woman's cart, a quieter alley with pricier-looking shops at the ground level and living quarters above, the hanging laundry a welcoming giveaway.
The buildings are all connected—where one shop ends another begins, giant structures with little pathways to walk between them.
99 halts us in front of a door with a tarnished access control panel, some of the letters rubbed away and a patina halo where it is secured to the building. The entrance sits snug between two little shops. The one next to me is bright with unnatural lighting. The person inside dusts the fragile-looking glassware where it lines the front display window.
99 presses a sequence of buttons on the door, commanding it to open. "We can go back if you like," he says hesitantly, standing just out of the threshold for me to pass.
"No, I want to see, 99." I step into a small entryway, the overhead light flickering on like it was woken from a deep sleep.
It's a communal area, a buffer from the busy street into the houses of the many people who live here. The few doors on the first level are wooden and old, but the stairs to the second floor and above are metal, like it was added on with Viathan updates.
At the top of the stairs, we approach a metal door constructed like the pilot's suite on August's ship, smooth and unassuming. He enters a numerical code into a panel and holds out a hand for me to enter first.
"This level and the one below," 99 orders my shadowing guards.
The living quarters are small, but even with the harsh lines and cold finishes, it’s cozy. There is a long hallway going down the middle with stations on either side.
A small, ruffled bed is to the right, 99's desk opposite it. At the back of the rectangular room, I spot a dining area with a silver table pushed against the only window and a single, sturdy chair next to it.
Armor sticks out from a compartment designated for clothing, the door slack from the too big pieces inside. Dust coats the items left behind on the desk, the only wooden furniture item in the room. Clean patches of perfectly outlined shapes show a timeline of the possessions that were forgotten and then brought to our capital chamber recently.
He trails behind me, watching me look at his space.
I sit on the edge of his bed, running my hand over the sheets, light and ruffled. I can smell his scent faintly mixed with the uncirculated, old air.
This is his room before he knew me, where he slept and made the space his own. Every inch of it reminds me of him, all of it making perfect sense, from the square dispenser and cups for tea to the boots askew in the corner.
"I have not spent much time here since we returned," he says, resting the basket of fruit on the table.
"It's really nice." I bounce on the mattress a little and feel something hard slide into my hip. I unravel a data pad from the tangled blanket, like the last time he was here, he fell asleep reading on it and forgot. "99, you do know the room we stayed in on the Estate was not mine, right? Lesser priestess rooms are small, even compared to this."
He straightens, and I can see the thoughts spinning around his head. "I did not know."
Since I arrived, 99 has tried so hard to make me feel at home, kicking out anyone in the library, taking me past the templein case I want to pray, and now making sure I had a room he thought I would be more comfortable in, something like the previous one he assumed was mine.
"You seemed so lost then. I wanted?—"
"I know. I am not angry with you." I stand and reach for his hand, and he instantly pulls me into his arms. I flood his mind with how overcome I am with gratitude for his always thoughtful intentions.
"I want to stay here, where you live," I say.
"You do?" He squeezes me a little tighter.
I nod into his armor. "This is perfect . . . for us."
