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It is a rare and wondrous thing when the Storm Coast isn’t battered by perpetual rain. The stony beaches are slick and wet, and the clouds hang heavy and fat with the threat of another storm. The air is wet and thick with the scent of salt and green growing things.He leads her here, and along the paths that are little more than trampled strips of land, he marks where they have fought alongside one another. There, beneath the sheltering shade of a rain-swept beech, she froze a pair of Red Templars in place as he shattered them soon after.There, in the verdant bosom of the cove, they stood back to back, fighting for their lives against an onslaught of Venatori zealots. She was a storm at his back: fire, ice, wind, and sea bending to the whim of her magic, the Anchor crackling and leaving trails of verdant light, a beacon of hope to so many, and an ill portent to many more. He finds a serenity in battling by her side he has never felt. Their cause is righteous. They are righting wrongs, they are beating back darkness and evil with the sword, with magic, and with cunning.And yet, for all that, it was but a hollow shell around a man who was not worthy to breathe the same air she did.And so he leads her to this place, where she first took him to prove himself and his mettle. In the soft, wan light of the graying sun, she watches not him, but the endless rolling of the sea, which heaves with great breaths, swelling and exhaling along the shore. There is a soft smile on the corners of her mouth, a fondness there she bestows on no one or anything else.“Might I trouble you for your thoughts, my lady?” He asks her. At first, it is as if she does not hear him, lost in whatever memories the panting sea holds. And then she turns her gaze upon him. The tenderness fades, replaced by somewhat else. It is fond, yes, passing fond, but he knows she will never look at him the way she looks at the sea.“Ostwick.” She says, simply. “Have you ever been there?”He shakes his head. “I’ve heard stories of its beauty, but never been myself. It’s where you were born, right?”She nods. “Before…before the Circle, my father had my sister and I learn every breadth of the city. ‘It is to be yours one day’ he used to tell us. When we could, we’d go to the walls of the city and look out at the port. I used to watch the ships pull out to sea and wonder where they went. Some of those ships belonged to us, and…” She looks down, smiling sheepishly. “I once entertained the thought of becoming a captain myself.”His brows raise in surprise. He does not think her to be the sailing type. Everything about her speaks to a woman who is to be waited upon hand and foot, a woman to be served, perhaps worshipped if one is mad enough. He is almost mad enough to consider it.“I told Aja about it, and she laughed…” She laughs at the memory. “Said it was a foolish idea to go sailing around the world. And now look, she’s a damned pirate.”He smiles at that. Her sister is a handful, but she bears the stamp of a true raider on her skin surely as a brand.“Where did you go?” She asks him. “Before…before the Warden found you, that is.”Thom turns his gaze to the sea.“Life before my crime was a simple one. I was a soldier, I followed orders, gave orders, and got paid for my trouble. Never put much thought into traveling the world. Not beyond the usual curiosity. After, though…” He is quiet a moment. “I suppose I only wanted to see if there was somewhere far enough I could run to escape…everything I had become, I guess.”She makes that face, the one he can’t bear to look at. It is a mixture of disappointment and sympathy. He wants neither, but deserves one at least. Her mouth turns down in a frown as she hugs her arms against the sudden chill of wind that blows through the coast. Her instinctively puts his arm around her, forgetting for a moment to ask if she even wants him, and letting out a relieved sigh when she leans into him.“When you joined me,” she says, “the Inquisition, I mean…was that you making the decision to stop running? Or had you grown…complacent?”He flinches, but swallows his pride and shame to drown them both in the acid pit of his stomach.“Both. The latter, really. No one had recognized me for a long time yet, and so I grew comfortable wearing another man’s identity. But…it is as you said, my lady: I earned my choice to love you, but I stole yours. That was why I stopped running.”She says nothing, but he can feel her thoughts in the tension in her body. Her hand, however, finds his, and when she laces their fingers and squeezes, he is content with the response