"It's..." She struggled, her voice barely a whisper. "Beautiful."
His teasing expression faded into something softer. "It never gets old," he murmured. “No matter how many times you see it, there’s always something about the night sky at sea that’s... magical.”
Vivienne tore her gaze away from the heavens to study him. His voice had that same wistful tone she hadn’t heard in years, the quiet wonder that had once made her fall for him.
"It is magical," she admitted, but her eyes narrowed slightly, a warning to herself.
Whatever Cirrus’ motives, whether he wanted to rekindle something or simply charm his way into her trust, she wasn’t about to let her guard down.
She planted her hands on her curved hips. "What's next?"
"Now," he said, "we combine our two favorite things—" He paused for effect, tilting his head with a playful gleam. "Reading and stars."
Cirrus led her up to the quarterdeck, where a small table stood beneath a lantern’s warm glow, littered with navigation tools. He pulled back his white-blonde hair, tying it with ease before picking up a polished brass sextant.
"First," he said, "we measure the angle between the horizon and a star. The Guiding Light stays fixed, making it our most reliable point of reference." He angled the instrument in his hands, the metal catching the light. “From there, we calculate our latitude.”
Vivienne reached for the sextant, but as Cirrus handed it over, their fingers brushed.
A sharp, fleeting spark shot up her arm. She ignored it, shaking off the strange, lingering sensation as she raised the instrument to her eye.
Cirrus stepped closer, his voice low and even as he guided her through the measurements, the calculations, the plotting. Steady hands, careful movements, precise angles. The numbers took form on the chart, marking their place in the vastness of the ocean.
When they finished the tasks, he leaned back with a satisfied nod.
"Well done," he said, and for the first time that night, his smile was real.
Vivienne’s heart twisted.
Not because of the way he looked at her, but because for a split second, she remembered the way that smile had once been hers.
She gave him a closed-lip smile, brushing the moment aside. "Thank the gods you’ve become a better teacher," she teased, arching an eyebrow.
Cirrus laughed, shaking his head as Vivienne turned back to the endless tapestry of stars overhead.
Cirrus’ voice was gentle but held a heaviness as he spoke. "I was sorry to hear about your parents." He hesitated, searching her face. "I know things were… complicated between you, but no one deserves to get that kind of news. How are you handling everything?"
Vivienne swallowed hard as a dull ache settled in her stomach. Her throat tightened as she fought the sting behind her eyes. "Thank you for saying that." Her voice felt small. "I… I don’t know that I’m handling anything." She let out a shaky breath. "All I can do is move forward. Focus on the next step. The next hour. Anything beyond that is too much."
Cirrus' fingers tensed at his sides, then loosened again as he exhaled. "I can’t imagine what that feels like, but if there’s anything I can do…" He trailed off, his voice soft with sincerity. "I’m here."
Vivienne dipped her chin in a slow nod, forcing a half-smile. "Thanks."
For a few moments, the weight of silence pressed between them. Cirrus clicked his tongue, shifting the mood. "So… how well do you know your constellations?"
She let the change of subject happen. "I've read about them, seen drawings, but identifying them up there?" She gestured to the glittering blanket above. "It’s harder than I thought. There are so many stars, they all start to merge together."
For a while, Cirrus guided her gaze, tracing the constellations in the air with a finger.
Nyxis’ Serpent, coiling through the sky, its tail wrapped around a single burning star. Rhuevenar’s Bow, arrow poised, ready to loose. The delicate, shining threads of Xanira’s Loom, and the silent constellation of Thymera’s Harp, its strings waiting for fate’s hands to play them.
Althera, the All-Mother, held the Guiding Light, the brightest in the night sky.
Vivienne’s gaze searched the heavens again. "I can't find The Twin Blades." The legend claimed Ignarith himself forged them, twin weapons set into the sky to burn forever.
Cirrus chuckled, stepping behind her. "You're looking in the wrong direction." His hands landed lightly on her shoulders, turning her with a gentle tug.
He leaned in, lowering his face next to hers, aligning to her vantage point. "And you need to look higher."
