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After stuffing their faces with green melon slices and drinking a third bottle of iced brownbark tea, morning turned to evening, evening to night. The last of the fishing vessels rode back to port, the Fragilli tumultuous as its frothy greensea overtook ship decks.

Beneath lampposts that gave off the faint bluish halo of alchemically enhanced items, sailors scurried from starboard to stern, tossing buckets of water overboard, hoping to stop their ships from buckling under the weight of all that water.

Eventually, the boats made it back, each one gliding to a dock before dropping anchor. A few ships stayed at sea, dotting the horizon, adding their light to a sky already studded with stars.

With the sun a distant memory, the air chilled dramatically, Abby's teeth chattering whenever the wind blew. She drew her shawl tighter, as she buried her feet into the sand, trying to soak up the last of the day's warmth. 

Tuning out the cacophony of the city, louder now that night was upon them, she focused on the sea, on the waves lashing the rocks, the surf slurping against the shore. The spray peppering her cheeks and skin. Its briny scent.

Margo had told Abby that magick in the Eridan was dying, Exul included, and that the Fragilli was rotting, but right now, the sea showed no sign of giving up on life. Magick or no, its heart continued to beat steadily, unwilling to surrender to circumstance.

Calm and strong, Abby hoped to one day be like the sea.

"You okay?" Lucy nudged her. She nodded. "I wish I could lie on your lap," he continued, pointing down the beach where the Mayweathers and Hudginns sat separately, mourning as families. "But I think they would have a fit if I did that, looking the way I do."

Abby cocked an eyebrow. "You mean because you're so blindingly handsome?" She grinned.

A smile spread across his face. "Whatever else would I mean, Miss Tells?" Another gust of wind blew, bending the few reeds growing on the dune they perched upon. Lucy clenched his collar, his chin half-hidden by the fabric.

He's cold. Of course, he is. He doesn't have fur anymore.

Abby inched closer until she and Lucy sat shoulder-to-shoulder. Then she undid her shawl and draped half over Lucy. He blinked, and then seeing Abby struggle to keep the shawl on him, grabbed his half and held it to his arm. "Thanks," he whispered, resting his head on her shoulder.

Reaching up, she pulled a lock of Lucy's hair free of his ribbon and started wrapping it around her finger. Its blond color giving way to a more natural black the closer she got to his roots. He looks like Sebbi with his dark hair; that's why he dyes it, Abby thought.

She let the lock go, watching it unfurl to Lucy's shoulder. "I can't keep you warm like I used to," she said. "But I can still do this."

Lucy purred as he nuzzled the side of her neck. "I think I prefer this, anyway." He closed his eyes. Overhead, a flock of gulls nesting in a crop of burlas let loose a single, pained mew. "You sure you want to do this without him?" Abby choked as Lucy pried one eye open, a single golden light dazzling among the dark.

She gulped. By him, he'd meant Sebbi, her gaze drawn to her right as she conjured the name to mind. Last year, Sebbi had sat there, not next to her, but not far enough away she couldn't feel his body heat. Like he had when he'd been a cat, he was around, always somewhere close.

And while she'd cried for her dad and Mimi, Sebbi had tensed, his focus on the moon as dark shadows floated across his face. She hadn't asked who he mourned because she'd known. His mother, whom he never met, and her guard, Lain, the Aelurian who had given everything, including his life, to protect the rightful heirs of Aelurus and see one of them seated on the throne.

Afterwards, they hadn't spoken about the experience either of them had had, but it'd been enough for him to have been there. And now Abby had to face the truth: Sebbi wasn't here. Sebbi wasn't coming.

She tried to conceal the disappointment in her voice, but it cracked through as she forced a smile. "It's fine," she said, tightness spreading throughout her chest, "I'm sure he's busy being a king and everything."

Lucy tilted his head as he pressed a finger to her forehead. "You're a terrible liar, love."

"Yeah, well, you're—" Fingers massaged at the soreness blossoming across her forehead.

"It's okay to be mad." Lucy returned his head to her shoulder as he ran a finger over Abby's hand. "Gods know I am." He snorted derisively, his finger stopping on her knuckle. "This is the first time I've ever been stood up for anything. You know how bad it looks to women when an older brother can't inspire his younger sibling to show up?"

Abby placed her hand over his and squeezed. Plying him with a slight smile, she said, "No. I have no idea."

"Well," he said, craning his neck to stare into her face. "It's pretty bad." Then, his gaze narrowed. An unwelcomed heat spread across Abby's face.

"Wh-what are you doing, staring so hard?"

Lucy's grin spread like a net cast to trap her. And it had, wholly and completely. She couldn't take her eyes off him."I can count your nose hairs," he said.

The warmth in her face now a full-blown inferno, Abby pulled her chin into her neck to obstruct Lucy's view. She tried to pull away, but Lucy held his half of the shawl tight against himself. True to his predator instincts, he had his prey cornered; Abby had nowhere to go.

"Seriously, though—" he stretched his legs in front of him, digging his toes into the sand. "I'm going to feed that idiot so many vegetables his fur turns green." He harrumphed, cheeks puffed like a disobedient child.

At this, Abby cracked a grin, one that came to her with ease. It was a pure smile, unencumbered by her emotions, and it helped to uplift her mood. "I can't wait to see it." She placed her chin on the crown of Lucy's head, the scent of his scalp floating to her ears. Somehow, he smelled just as he always had. "I'll take a few pictures."

Lucy's eyebrow jettisoned toward his hairline. "A few? Better take hundreds. I expect to plaster all of Darkmoore Castle so he can never forget how mad he made us." He shot upright, gaze skyward. Instead of focusing on the stars, he stared only at the moon. "To think I have to worry about him like this." Lucy folded his arms over his chest. "At least show up! Be here you idiot!" he yelled, eyes glistening, his lower lip quivering."We want you with us! Besides, I can't smack your muzzle or call you an idiot to your face without you here!"

Abby petted Lucy's head. "I promise to  snap all the pictures." He nodded, hunched over in her arm, breaths ragged.

Sometimes, she'd forgotten how Lucy was. That the cavalier attitude he displayed to the rest of the world was just an act. That his composed demeanor, and playing things off as jokes when they no longer worked for him, were all ways he shuttered himself from the things in the world that hurt him. That there was pain hidden behind most of his smiles.

"He won't be able to hide from me or my camera lens," Abby added.

She wanted to apologize for getting too complacent, for taking Lucy's smile at face-value, for forgetting that Lucy loved his brother and worried about him constantly, for knowing his worry factored into his restlessness and that his leisurely nighttime strolls in Ean and love of wine were all ways he coped with Sebbi's absence, but Abby's tongue had grown heavy and thick in her mouth, and the words never formed. 

"Love," Lucy whispered.

"What?"

Placing a finger under Abby's cheek, he guided her gaze upward. Finally, she'd glimpsed what she'd been waiting for. A single red star, one that reminded her of a cigarette tip glowing far, far away.

Her heart constricted as the minor star dredged up major memories. She smelled him first, his burnt tobacco and awful cologne. Then she felt the coarseness of his stubble and the warmth of his arms, as though he were there hugging her.

She envisioned his awkwardness  – the loose threads hanging off his jacket, his crooked tie, wrinkled collar, the squirming he did as his eyes darted back and forth, unable to settle on anything for too long. She heard the jingle of his silver dragon earrings, his laughter, and last, her name, spoken with all the love in the world.

Abbernathy.

"Dad." Her voice was low, low enough she thought Lucy might not of heard her, but he gripped her arm and gave her a squeeze, letting her know he wasn't going anywhere and that he was here. Always. Beside the red star, a bright white one twinkled. Abby bowed her head. "Mom." She rested her hands on her thighs, balling them into fists. "It's good to see you both."

A stray tear ran down her cheek. "I'm another year older and not a lick closer to figuring out how to be a good gardener." She chuckled, though it came out like a wet hiccup as her tears fell freely down her face."Guess, Mrs. Seiver was right about my lack of green sensibilities."

When she hiccupped this time, she didn't know if she'd been laughing or crying. Both, she guessed. "Be sure to tell her when you see her." Abby's knuckles turned white. Her vision blurred, the Fragilli a dark mass blending together with the sky. Everything star-studded and sullen as she wept for those she'd never see again.

I miss you. I miss all of you. So, so very much.

Her body shook as sobs exploded out of her throat, one after another yanked from her depths. Abby rocked, Lucy's touch the only anchor keeping her steady. Her chest hurt, lungs on fire with every inhale. Snot dripped down her lips and chin. Tears burned her eyes. 

An entire year's worth of suppressed emotions flowed out of her at once. Each wretched memory of the smoke, the screams, the collapsing ceiling, burning wood, and her father's regretful eyes, throwing her world back into chaos. But she needed to get this all out, she knew it: it was how she would heal.

Breaking down and sobbing. Remembering the good times and the bad. Constantly moving forward,  while taking time to look back, to pause, to observe the present. She'd heal eventually, and Lucy would remain at her side, no matter how long it took.

If only Sebbi could have been there too.