Cerulean Cape Owl

Riordan's gaze was steady on Lestan, watching him turn his own eyes to the sky and the sea as he spoke. His bitter laughter told the story of a man at his breaking point, and the tired cast to his features spoke further of defeat. But when the multi-coloured eyes found Riordan again, there was something darker there that unsettled him even more than the question Lestan posed. He nodded, and considered his next words before he voiced them.

"I've been many things to her," he began, "but right now she needs a friend and a mentor. I don't know what she's shared with you, about where she's from and what she is. There's so much she still doesn't know. But I can teach her."

Now it was Riordan who looked away, dark eyes scanning the waves, and he contemplated the heavy potpourri scent of kismet that surrounded them. The sundancer by the sea was a vision that still haunted him at night, but Reverie didn't dream of him any longer. She dreamt of this man now, this Lestan, and a softer life than Riordan could ever provide.

"Has she gotten sicker?" He asked without looking at Lestan.