Since you left without a trace, [Galia]

[Galia Baryk]

Well, that bothered her. It seemed cruel to leave frightened animals out in the middle of a storm, whickering and stamping with each crack of thunder, but that wasn't her problem. Not really. Still, she kept her eyes on the surrounding field in the hopes that someone else might show up.

Only a sideways glance at him was spared. "In my room. In bed. Where I had been, until some lunatic abducted me and decided he wanted to go splashing in puddles."

[Zaman Jaraei]

He reached out to put a finger on her lips. "Listen." Leaning forward, his head cocked, he seemed to be waiting for something.

Lightning fell from the sky a second later, striking a distant tree. There was the unmistakable smell of burnt wood, followed by the loudest clap of thunder yet. All around them, the tell-tale violence of the storm continued to build.

He looked back at her, blinking even as his smile held. "See that?"

[Galia Baryk]

She listened, and observed, and tried not to wince at the sound. Galia couldn't help blinking out of reflex, but remained otherwise unperturbed. As soon as the noise subsided, she pushed his finger away from her mouth so she could answer. "Yes. I see that."

A pause, as she sniffed at the air. "And smell it, too." Thankfully, it was too wet for a fire to spread. But the wind was picking up now, whipping her hair into her face and pressing a chill into her soaked skin. "You want to be fried next, or...?"

[Zaman Jaraei]

So many questions.

"My father was hit by lightning three times," he said, lifting a hand to show his thumb and two fore-fingers, as if he was telling her that he could in fact count that high. "It didn't kill him."

That was probably Yar Zaman's way of telling her that they'd be fine.

[Galia Baryk]

She rolled her eyes. Not that she really believed him, but, "I sincerely doubt it improved his health."

[Zaman Jaraei]

"Well, It didn't kill him so yeah, maybe it did." His father might not have developed mutant powers, but he was still the toughest human Zaman knew. Yar Jaraei was all hard angles and sinew. There was nothing soft about his father. To zaman, he could have been a mountain.

Thunder rumbled again. "This reminds me of home," he told her, now yelling over the thunder.

[Galia Baryk]

"It does," she agreed quietly. And not in a good way.

Her scowl had faded, though she still wasn't smiling. Maybe lightning didn't kill people, but she knew that storms did. At least it was raining, making it harder to see and hear. Maybe he wouldn't even notice that she was actually a little sad.

[Zaman Jaraei]

Maybe he would.

He was halfway towards reaching out for her when his hand stopped. Well, not even that. It didn't move; when, seconds before, it was ready to do just that. It stayed at his side, the tips of his fingers dripping water to the ground below. The same phantom sensation crept through him. It wasn't strong or otherwise powerful, but it was there and he would have to deal with it.

"What's wrong?" Was she mad he'd brought her here? He figured she would be; no one really liked storms up here in the big city. No one but Zaman it seemed.

Or maybe it was something else.

He wasn't about to guess though.

[Galia Baryk]

"Nothing."

That was a blatant lie, but the word shot out of her mouth without thinking. Denial of possessing human emotion had become a reflex at this point. After all, if she was upset about something, it was obviously the result of some kind of woman problem, wasn't it? Any sign of flaw was just giving her critics another reason to doubt her.

Except this was different. She didn't think he was going to judge her, but then again, she still couldn't figure him out. The truth was a gamble.

Galia glanced sideways at Zaman, studying him as best as she could through the downpour. Her tongue traced her bottom lip as she decided whether or not to change her answer.

Finally, she said, "I liked storms, when I was a kid. My brother and I, we used to stand out on the rocks along the shore, just like this. We'd run and climb, and make stupid dares..." There was a knot twisting in her chest, a weight in her shoulders that made them slump. She swallowed. "But he died. So."

[Zaman Jaraei]

Heavy.

Suddenly, just like that, things were heavy.

Her, the sky, the fat droplets of water hitting him. They all pressed hard, forcing him to consider things he didn't really like considering. Heavy things; forgotten things. Dead people and the memories of dead people. His mother. It was like a list that began to form in his mind. Things that weigh me down...

“Do you want to go back?” he asked, wondering if that was what she meant. She used to like storms. Used to. Before her brother died.

He wondered if bringing her here was suddenly a bad idea. It started a joke—because, really, racing through a storm? But now it was serious and she was serious and Zaman wasn't sure he was okay with that. And it wasn't the typical 'oh she's always serious' serious. It was real and sad, and he could feel his own chest tighten with the realization that this probably wasn't easy for her.

The fact she'd chosen to tell him—of all people—was enough of an honour. Sort of. Not if it meant having to see her like this. If he was keeping track, it would be the second time she'd shared something private with one Yar Zaman Jaraei of Escova.

That was probably more than she'd shared with anyone.

[Galia Baryk]

"Up to you," Galia shrugged in response, blinked back the rain slipping into her eyes, and tried not to shiver. She felt vulnerable enough already by the admission; there was no need to make it worse by indicating that she was getting cold, too.

She was fully clothed -- soaked to the bone, not wearing much to keep out the damp and the chill -- but she felt more exposed at the moment than she had on the river bank, in her similarly wet underclothes.

Why did I even tell him that? Galia turned her gaze back to the ground, feeling suddenly ill and all too self-aware. He didn't need to know that. She should have stuck with the lie, kept up with the illusion of brass balled Sergeant Baryk, brave and stoic in the face of any danger. And she still barely knew anything about him, for all that her own honesty was worth. Zaman was strange, and practically a stranger to her.

Even so, she'd followed him into a storm. What the hell is wrong with me?

[Zaman Jaraei]

He was cold too. His fingers were pale and numb, sensation all but forgotten at the tips. His hair was slick and wet against his forehead, a nest of stray strands and locks plastered over his scalp. His clothes weren't faring much better. Like her, he was soaked to the bone.

But he liked it.

The cold, the rain reminded him of home. It reminded him of days spent on the little cove near the village picking starfish and seashells. Of cold afternoons spend rubbing his fingers through the thick, black sand, tracing his name over and over again. At the time, it was the only thing he could spell—Zaman. Not even Yar Zaman. Not Jaraei. Just Zaman.

So when it rained here—when it stormed—he went out and spent his time in the one thing that united his cold island homeland with this one. A little pilgrimage or something. There were a lot of words for it.

Which was why he'd asked her. He was okay out here. He wanted to be out here. Her response, however—her response was typical. He hadn't known her for long, but he knew this was stamped with her trademark. Up to you.

"I asked you," he said, rocking forward on the balls of his feet so that he was closer to her.

[Galia Baryk]

And then they were back to that rhythm where she almost wanted to smack him. This...friendship, or whatever it could be called, was like riding a wave. One moment, it was an exhilarating rush, a high of uncertainty, and then it was back down to something bordering uncomfortable, even infuriating.

At least he wasn't boring.

"No," she answered through grit teeth, not just to be stubborn and obstinate, as was her nature. Galia didn't really want to go back to the barracks. It was stifling and confining within the city limits, overcrowded and claustrophobic. Her upbringing wasn't much different from his. They were practically neighbors, after all. But staying here didn't bring any relief, either. For him, home was a comfort. There was a reason she had left hers.

She could concede to a slight retreat from the rain, though. "But...can we go somewhere else? A little bit...drier."

[Zaman Jaraei]

She didn't want to go back—but she didn't want to stay here either. What she wanted was a dry space, away from the rain. Zaman nodded.

He could do dry.

He looked around, making a big show of finding somewhere to go. The land beyond the walls of Maristheum was bare and empty, with the only buildings being long-abandoned farmsteads. The nearest of these wasn't far, maybe half a kilometre away. It was an old building made of rotting wood and curling, splitting roof tiles. Not a place to live, but it would do. He didn't even have to worry about her protesting, or citing her delicate strength. That was the thing about Galia. She didn't complain. That, and the fact that she could probably outlast him if it came down to a game of survival. She would probably use him solely to reproduce before eating him and taking shelter in his ribs.

So, grabbing one of the horses—he wasn't going to leave them out there—he led her silently down the craggy, rocky outcroppings the dotted the Escovan landscape. From there, the land eased into grass, and sometime after that, they were crossing the neglected wooden fence of the estate.

They reached the abandoned barn a few minutes later, the doors groaning and protesting as they entered. The building itself was in decay, the old walls peeling and rotting. The roof was at a dangerous angle, and for all its classification as a 'barn', it was actually quite small. Cozy would have been a good word if it weren't about to crack and collapse on them.

Zaman tethered the horse to an old post and found himself turning to look at her.

"I mean, it's not the Royal Palace, but hey," he grinned. "It's dry."

Well, sort of dry. The roof was leaking and there were puddles everywhere, but at least there was no active rainfall.

[Galia Baryk]

It was very possible, if not probable, that they were trespassing and thieving horses, yet the potential ramifications of those acts paled in comparison to the reward of finding shelter. Galia followed Zaman, forced to assume that he had any notion of where he was going, reins of the other horse in her grip. The walk was quiet, almost solemn, though she could hardly complain about it. At least he wasn't trying to make idle chit chat, or inquiring about her brother, proving once more that he was less of an oaf than she initially thought.

Enough time had passed during the march that her mood was considerably lightened once they reached the barn. After tying up the horse, she mirrored his expression, "It's not? I thought I saw Her Majesty on the way in." Her shoulders rose and fell quickly in a shrug, "Must've just been a chicken."

A slight draft whistled between the worn boards penning them in, though most of the wind was kept outside. For as many leaks as there were in the ceiling, there were still enough dry spots to settle down in. The wooden bench she chose to rest on was damp and soft, but stable enough to hold her weight. Once she was seated, a yawn managed to sneak up on her before she could clamp a hand over her mouth. It wasn't just the journey that was wearying; Galia had already been in need of rest before he'd dragged her out of her room.

She leaned forward, hands on her knees, studying Zaman, "So, you do this a lot? Lead unsuspecting women out to abandoned barns, stranding them in the middle of torrential downpours, just you and them?" The smirk meant she was only teasing, though she was somewhat genuinely curious to know whether this was normal behavior for him.