Goodbyes

By mid-morning Aaru Village was buzzing.

Both the men Lumine had emptied and the women Aether had been forced to satisfy moved through the streets with the loose, contented energy of people who had finally been thoroughly taken care of. Conversations were easier. Smiles were freer. The earlier tension of imbalance had dissolved into a general, well-fucked goodwill.

Aether himself looked like death warmed over.

Rosaria had gotten fluids into him and kept him in the shade, but the damage was obvious. He was genuinely drained — skin dull, lips cracked, the kind of deep physical dehydration that came from hours of non-stop effort in desert heat against partners who simply would not stay down. The women of Aaru Village had proven far sturdier and more tenacious than the sailor girls Ningguang had once provided in Liyue. They recovered faster, demanded more, and refused to yield until they were completely finished with him.

Candace stood over the low cot where he lay, arms crossed, looking entirely too pleased with herself.

“Your sister managed the entire male population in a single night and still walked out of the village under her own power the next morning,” she said, voice mild and openly mocking. “You, on the other hand, look like you were left in the sun for a week. Perhaps the great Traveler is not quite as impressive as the stories claim.”

She tilted her head, dual-colored eyes glinting with residual satisfaction and quiet challenge.

“Lumine didn’t need an entire day to recover. You might want to work on that.”

Aether could only close his eyes and breathe, too emptied to offer any retort.

Cloud Retainer, who had been quietly observing from the side, finally spoke.

“The disparity is not surprising,” she said in her usual calm, academic tone. “It is a matter of basic physiological and energetic difference.”

Candace turned, clearly expecting a short remark. What she received instead was a full lecture.

Cloud Retainer proceeded to deconstruct the entire comparison with precise, merciless clarity. She explained that the average male climax was a relatively singular, finite event with a clear refractory endpoint, while female pleasure operated on layered, overlapping, and often non-linear systems that could be sustained, stacked, and re-triggered far beyond a single peak. Fully satisfying a woman — especially to the standard Aether’s presence tended to demand — required prolonged output, continuous adjustment, and significantly higher total energy expenditure. Multiply that by an entire village of tenacious desert women who recovered quickly and refused to stop until they were completely finished, and the difference in residual condition between Aether and his sister became not only understandable but mathematically expected.

She continued into relative stamina curves, the cost of repeated full-body engagement versus shorter cycles, the added burden of desert heat on sustained performance, and the simple fact that Lumine’s targets had been left emptied and largely passive afterward, while Aether’s had remained active participants for the entire duration.

By the time the adeptus finished, the air in the shaded area felt distinctly quieter.

Candace stood very still, dual-colored eyes blinking once as the full analytical dismantling of what had been a casual, slightly mocking conversational jab settled over her. She had not been prepared for a centuries-old academic to take her offhand comparison and turn it into a detailed, clinically accurate lecture on why the Traveler currently looked half-dead while his sister had walked away fine.

“…I see,” Candace said at last, with the careful tone of someone who had just been academically corrected in public and had no good counter ready.

Cloud Retainer gave a small, polite nod, as if she had merely clarified a minor point of natural philosophy, and returned to her previous silence.

Dehya loved every second of it.

The moment Cloud Retainer finished her clinical dismantling of Candace’s remark, the Flame-Mane let out a bright, unrestrained laugh and immediately piled on.

“She’s right, you know. You really thought you were making a clever little jab and instead got a full academic autopsy. Classic Candace — open mouth, insert foot, then stand there trying to look dignified while the lecture lands.”

Candace’s eye twitched.

“And you’re still the same loudmouthed mercenary who thinks volume equals victory. Some of us prefer precision.”

“Precision? You just got schooled by a bird lady on why the man you worked half to death looks like dried jerky while his sister walked out fine. Precision would’ve been keeping your mouth shut.”

They were off.

The old Friendship flared straight back into familiar, rapid-fire bickering — sharp, practiced, and oddly warm underneath. Insults and counter-insults flew with the ease of people who had known exactly how to needle each other for years. The tension that had sat between them since the ambush finally found its proper, affectionate outlet.

While the two of them went at it, the rest of the pride quietly shifted their attention to Aether.

Once Aether had enough strength to walk under his own power, the party prepared to leave Aaru Village and continue toward Natlan.

While the others finished packing, a quiet scene unfolded near the edge of the settlement.

In the background, Aether had Yelan bent firmly over a low stone bench. The scolding was low and private, but the posture made the reason clear — her earlier decision to wake Rosaria and watch with open contempt instead of offering direct support had not gone unnoticed. Yelan took it without protest, expression caught between professional acceptance and the faint flush of someone who knew she had earned the correction.

A short distance away, Candace and Dehya stood facing each other.

The usual rivalry was absent. What remained was older and more honest.

“You’re really doing this,” Candace said quietly. “Walking away from the work, the contracts, the freedom… to follow a man.”

Dehya didn’t deny it. Her gaze drifted briefly toward Aether, then back to the guardian she had known for years.

“Yeah. I am.”

Candace studied her for a long moment. Concern sat openly in her dual-colored eyes, but so did reluctant understanding.

“I don’t fully like it,” she admitted. “You’ve always been your own. Seeing you bind yourself to someone else’s path… it feels like watching a piece of the desert get claimed. I’ll miss you. The village will feel the absence.”

She exhaled, then gave a small, genuine nod.

“But I can see it took. Whatever he did, it stuck. I won’t stand here and pretend I don’t recognize loyalty when it settles that deep. Go. Follow him. I wish you the best of it.”

Her own stance remained unchanged — feet planted, shoulders squared toward Aaru Village.

“My duty stays here. That part of me doesn’t shift.”

Dehya stepped forward and bumped her forehead lightly against Candace’s in a rough, familiar gesture.

“Keep the place standing. And try not to ambush the next group of people who actually look like the person they’re searching for.”

A faint, almost-smile tugged at Candace’s mouth.

“No promises.”

In the background the soft sound of Yelan receiving her scolding continued for another moment before Aether finally let her up.

The party formed up.

Natlan waited beyond the last stretch of desert, and Dehya walked with them without looking back.