Work Text:
Arcana Soulmate AU
Xori's soul mark is on her hand, like most people's.
There are nights when her siblings and parents have all gone to sleep, that she stares at it in the moonlight and dreams. She sees so few people, isolated as she is from the world in the wilds that her family wanders through, that sometimes she wonders how she will ever find them. Her soulmate.
But the mark gives her hope. Because, by its very presence, it is a promise. Of something great to come.
And, when she is fifteen, that day comes.
Her family had settled in the middle of the forest near Vesuvia and had discovered that her mother's long-lost sister lived in the city.
Xori had been gathering berries and mushrooms in the woods. It was one of her usual chores, something she'd done hundreds of times by now. She knew the forest well and was not afraid to be alone beneath the boughs.
But then, from his perch above her, her familiar, a red-tailed hawk, screamed a warning.
Someone's coming, Panrell's cry sounded in her mind.
She shot up, hand going for the walking stick she always had on hand just in case.
And, sure enough, a figure emerged from the underbrush and stepped into the clearing.
She found herself staring back at a face just as surprised as hers. One she recognized.
It was the young magician she'd bought a mask from at the Masquerade in the city. The one who'd set out his wares next to her aunt's shop.
His eyes flashed with recognition.
Xori had been wary at first, even as she'd been intrigued. It wasn't every day that she got to talk to people her age that weren't her siblings.
And this one, especially, was captivating. His purple eyes almost seemed to glow when the sunlight caught them, and they held a mischievous light that intrigued her. He had a mess of white curls that kept falling into his face, and his smile was warm.
She stepped forward boldly, offering him her name and her hand, hardly thinking about her mark- what were the odds, right? Of finding her soulmate so early on in life. She was too curious about him for such distractions anyway.
He told her his name was Asra and shook her hand.
And, when their palms touched, they glowed faintly.
They pulled away from each other, shocked, surprised... for their hands had bloomed with color.
Xori's mark, grey and dull before, was now a soft, swirling lavender. And his was now stained with the vibrant green of the forest, dappled with gold like spots of sun.
And for a long moment all either of them could do was stare.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Xori finds every excuse she can to spend time with Asra after that.
Stolen moments when she can weasel out of her chores or slip out of the house unnoticed. She'd often seek him out in the city when she went to visit her aunt, keeping him company as he sold the little trinkets he made, or when he entertained others with magic or readings- even joining in to help on occasion.
Sometimes, she even snuck out in the night, forgoing sleep so they could dance together under the moonlit trees.
And things were good.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Three years into having found her soulmate, Xori's parents wanted to move again. They had grown restless, the open road was calling them, and the promise of places even more wild was pulling them away.
Her family never stayed in one place for long. She'd known this. And she'd watched her older brother and sister leave, called away, called elsewhere, by that wanderlust in their blood. She had known that things couldn't last as they were forever.
But it still hurt, still left her aching, when her parents asked whether or not she would come with them and her little brother. It hurt, because she knew she could not go.
Xori had never had their level of wanderlust. It had been there, but she craved stability too. A home. A proper home that would always be hers, that she didn't have to leave behind.
She felt more akin to her aunt that way. Her aunt had left their tribe before her parents had and had settled in Vesuvia. A city, of all places.
Xori had always been pulled along by her family when they uprooted and moved on, but now? Now, she was old enough to make that sort of decision for herself.
And she knew what she was going to do.
Her heart was in Vesuvia. Asra was in Vesuvia. She couldn't leave him. Not even for her family.
And her family couldn't deny their nature, not even for her.
It eased their hearts to know that, if they had to leave their youngest daughter behind, it would be in good hands. That she would not be alone.
So, Xori moved in with her aunt, helped her run her shop, and learned more about magic.
She and Asra stayed together, and she started to dream of the future. Of all the things they'd do together.
All the years yet to come...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
But they were not adrift on a placid sea. They had not docked at a safe harbor.
A storm had long been brewing in Vesuvia, and slowly but surely it had begun to make itself known.
The Red Plague.
Xori's aunt was one of the early victims. She died when people were just beginning to realize what was happening- that the people who succumbed to illness with their eyes dyed crimson weren't merely isolated cases, but a growing epidemic.
And Xori was devastated, to say the least.
She had loved her aunt: the last tie she had to her family, the last remnant of her culture in the city, a pillar of support in her life.
And then she was gone, just like that. Within days of falling ill.
And Xori hadn't been able to save her.
But, as always, she had Asra. She'd always have Asra. And he helped her through her grief.
He moved into the shop with her, and, with him finally so close, always within reach, Xori managed to find a lot of light in the growing dark.
But the years wore on, the plague got worse, and Xori's friends kept dying. Her neighbors kept dying, vendors she had gone to in the markets, regular customers that she had once seen so often... all gone.
And it filled her with such a helpless rage and grief, because she tried to help them. But nothing, not her magic, not her potions, not anything she tried, did any good.
And, eventually... she lost Asra, too.
He had wanted to run. He had wanted away from the death and despair staining the city's streets and seeping into its stones. And he had wanted her to come with him. He had wanted her safe.
But she couldn't leave. This was her home, the first proper, permanent home she'd ever had. And it needed her!
And Xori... Xori did not run from things. It was not in her nature, not in her culture. She would face this threat head on.
The plague had taken too much from her. She wanted it gone. She wanted to end it.
Her and Asra's discussion of this got heated, and before long they were fighting.
They'd been fighting more of late- grief and worry leaving their edges rough and jagged, even with each other- but this one was bad. The worst they'd ever had. They both said a lot of things they didn't mean. A lot of things they'd come to regret.
And it ended with Asra storming out, and Xori yelling after him that he was a coward. To not come back until he found some courage.
And it ended with both of them feeling a little more broken, but too angry to admit it. It ended, and that was the last time they saw each other.
Because eventually, the plague took Xori too.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Asra had known the moment she was gone. No matter how far he'd gotten from Vesuvia, no matter how many days had passed since he'd seen her, his soul mark hadn't changed. It had stayed a brilliant blooming green across his skin.
He'd learned to stop looking at it.
But one morning... one morning he had awoken and found that he could not look away.
Because where once there was vibrant color staining his skin... there was now only a dark and withered grey, almost black.
And suddenly he couldn't breathe. Suddenly there was a howling in his mind and a tightness in his chest, and a slow dawning horror that froze him in place.
Because he knew what that meant. Withered soul marks had begun to grow common in Vesuvia by the time he had left- what with so many falling to the plague.
He knew it meant she was gone.
But he couldn't accept it. He refused to.
He raced back to Vesuvia, burst into the shop, called for her.
He was met only with silence.
And it was like the floor began to crumble beneath Asra. But he found himself running all the same, leaping across the invisible cracks that were forming beneath him, his feet taking him through Vesuvia, to the docks, to a dark and smoking island before he could fully fall into the pit of grief that awaited him.
And that was where he found her, where he dug through ash and bone till his fingers bled and his tears left him blind and gasping.
She was little more than ash among the ash of thousands.
She was gone.
Nothing more than a memory.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
But Asra refused to accept fate. He refused to accept that she was lost to him.
He would get her back, no matter what, no matter the cost.
They were soulmates! They should be together, and he had been a fool to leave her!
He grieved, he ached, he found distraction in the arms of another, but he never stopped trying to bring her home.
His determination led him down a dark path, led him to work with the very man who took his parents from him... but Asra needed to use him, to use his resources, and he knew, he knew, that it would all be worth it once he got Xori back.
Once he could see her smile again.
And it worked, only costing him half his heart. And that seemed like nothing when all of it was hers already.
But when she came back... she wasn't the woman he once knew. Not the lover he remembered.
She came back, but she came back with no memory of him. No memory of anyone... of anything.
And his mark stayed dark. Even when he touched her, held her close against him and sobbed into her shoulder, so happy and relieved to finally, finally have her with him again, to hear her breathe and feel her heart beat in time with his...
But he tried not to let it bother him.
He tried not to think about how her hands, in this new body, were smooth and empty- free of all traces of the soul mark they'd once borne. He tried not to think about the new mark she bore... a handprint on her side. He tried not to think about what it meant...
He'd placed his hand against it, one night, when they were curled up together like always. She had been asleep, looking so peaceful, so beautiful... so alive... but when he pulled his hand away, the mark hadn't changed. It was still the soft grey of a soul mark untouched. And his was still dark.
But he hadn't brought her back so she would be beholden to him, so she'd be his.
He had just wanted to give her a second chance.
He didn't regret his choice to bring her back from death's cold arms. Because even if she wasn't meant to be his, at least she was in his life again.
And that had to be enough.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Xori may have lost her memories, but she knew what the mark on her side meant. She knew it meant that she had a soulmate waiting for her... somewhere.
Sometimes, on the lonely days when Asra was gone and the shop was quiet and empty... sometimes she rested her hand against her mark and wondered.
She was so isolated, so wary of others. She was not good at making friends, and she was worse with words... She tended to avoid people when she could... how would she ever find them?
And, it was strange. Because something deep inside of Xori felt that, if her soulmate was to be anyone... shouldn't it be Asra? He was her best friend, the only person she trusted completely. He meant so much to her, had done so much for her, and she loved him. But they'd touched so many times already. And never once did her mark change. It was still just a dull grey...
She didn't think of the mark often though. It was out of sight, and thus usually out of mind.
She didn't talk about it either- not even with Asra. She had seen the mark on his hand, a twisted, blackened grey: the mark of a soulmate lost. He never talked about it, but she knew that whatever had happened- whoever he'd lost- those memories had to have been painful, and she didn't want to pry.
He was her best friend, and he meant the world to her, and she wanted him to be happy, she wanted to help heal whatever pain he felt from that loss.
Because, for now, he was here, and her soul mate was not.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Three years into Xori's life as she could remember it, a man broke into her shop.
He wore a beaked mask, and dark clothes. He was tall, imposing.
And she knew him. He was a murderer, the Count's killer. His wanted posters had never come down.
But more than that. When he pulled the mask off, and his grey eye met hers... there was an unexplainable spark of recognition. And a name came to her, not the one on the posters in the market, not any she should know.
"Doctor Jules?" The words slipped out of her, and not even she could say where they came from.
And, by all forms of logic and sense, she should've been afraid of him. But something in her gut said he was no threat.
And he made no move to hurt her, asked for nothing but a card reading from her.
She didn't trust him, not for a second, but she played along and read the cards for him.
It wasn't until he tried to warn her away from Asra that her patience snapped.
She told him to get out of her shop.
She wrote him off as a fool.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
But their paths, it seemed, were intertwined.
The Countess wanted Xori to find him for her, so he could hang for his crimes at last. And even though Xori didn't know him, even though he had broken into her shop, she didn't want him dead.
It didn't sit well with her and she couldn't say why.
She didn't know him.
He meant nothing to her.
And yet...
So Xori tried to refuse Nadia's request. She wasn't some blood hound to be set loose, she was no investigator. All she wanted was to go home and continue to run her shop in peace.
So, when Nadia didn't seem to want to take Xori's no for an answer, she escaped the first chance she got. She abandoned the palace, the Countess' test of skill, and Asra's card to run back to the city through golden fields and hills.
She ran until she reached the streets of Vesuvia once more at dusk. And then she followed her magic, letting it guide her home.
However, along the path her magic took her, who should she run into but Doctor Devorak himself.
And he was not the imposing figure from the night before. When she accepted his offer to buy her a drink (because she had to admit she was curious about him), she was surprised by how different he seemed. He was lighter, kinder, he had a sister he cared about... he was human, not some dark killer.
And something about him drew her in, made her feel comfortable, even when she had no right to be.
They touched a couple times that night- his hands on her wrists as he pulled her from the barrel she'd fallen into, his arm around her shoulders as he led her to a table in the bar, a handshake as she finally learned his name...
But there was always something in the way of their skin actually touching- cloth and leather gloves.
So, they'd touched, but not really. Not in a way that counted. At least not where soulmate marks were concerned.
Besides, Xori wasn't even thinking of soulmates and marks that night, wasn't even considering him as a possibility.
A murderer wanted for execution? What would be the odds!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
You'd think that in a city of thousands, it would be harder for two people to keep running into each other. Especially when one of them was technically on the run from the law and should've been in hiding.
That was what Xori thought as she found herself face to face with Julian at the edge of one of the city's reservoirs, perched on an aqueduct as the cool night air stirred her clothes.
She'd been following the trail of crimson poison in the water. She hadn't been looking for him. Had, in fact, resolved that she wouldn't. She had no wish for her word to knot the hangman's noose around his neck. Not after he'd been kind to her.
She'd decided she was going to find every way not to do the job Nadia had given her.
And yet... here he was.
And that put her danger when the city guards came by. Because if they saw her with him...
Her foot slipped as they ran from the guards, and she fell into the reservoir and got bitten by an eel. And Julian pulled her back onto the street, pulled the eel from her side, and had to half drag her away.
She left blood and water in their wake.
She wasn't thinking about soul marks when he laid her down in a dark alley to try and do something about the bite that was slowly bleeding her dry. She was just trying to stay conscious. Trying to focus on breathing, and not on the fear clawing at her throat as her blood continued to seep onto the stones beneath her.
She had not been thinking about soul marks when his bare hand, ice cold, pressed against her side to heal her.
But he was.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Julian Devorak's soul mark was across his hand, like most peoples'. But, unlike most people, it wasn't just covering part of his skin- wasn't just on his fingers, or in the shape of a hand curled around his. It covered the whole flat of his palm, like he'd pressed it into grey ink.
His soul mark used to fill him with excited anticipation.
When he was younger, he had spent hours daydreaming about what it would be like when he finally found his soul mate. How it would happen. When it would happen.
But years went by, and... nothing.
A lot of other kids in Nevivon discovered their soulmates right there in town.
But not Julian.
Even so, he didn't give up hope. There were plenty of visitors in Nevivon, all eager to enjoy the salt springs. And Julian thought that surely, one of them would be his soulmate.
But no matter how many hands he shook or people he met; his mark stayed the same soft grey.
And it was still grey when he left for Prakra to study medicine. As he traveled the world, got mixed up in piracy, ended up in Vesuvia and started trying to cure the plague.
And some part of Julian gave up hope along the way, came to expect disappointment. He settled for others: others like him who hadn't yet found their soulmates- or who didn't have marks at all.
Those relationships never lasted though, and he shouldn't have expected them to, but it left him aching all the same when they ended.
He was never one to hold his feelings back, even when the cause was lost, and he had so much love to give, was so ready to be loved, to stop being alone...
And then, one day, he met a woman whose palm was stained the soft purple of twilight. A woman who wanted to help him cure the plague; whose soul mate had left her behind.
And he just couldn't help himself. His heart had never been one to listen to reason after all. And so, despite his every effort not to, he found himself falling for her.
...
And then she was gone. And he hadn't even gotten to say goodbye.
Just one more heartbreak to add to the list.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
It was three years after he supposedly killed the Count of Vesuvia, and the mark on Julian's hand was as dull and lifeless as it had ever been.
He was grateful sometimes, for the gloves he had to wear now to cover the murderer's brand on his skin, because it kept him from having to look at the mark. It kept him from having to hope every time he shook hands with someone new.
Once, the soft grey mark had filled him with eager excitement, but now he just felt bitter when he looked at it. After all these years... some part of him was convinced he'd never find his soulmate. That he'd be alone forever.
It was all he deserved, after all. How unfortunate his soul mate must be, to have been landed with him. A washed-up doctor, a murderer, who could barely look after himself, let alone anyone else. Who drowned his troubles in drink when he wasn't running from them.
How unfortunate it was, that out of everyone in the world, some pour soul was stuck with him.
He wanted to find them still, of course, but he knew that was selfish. Because soulmate or not, surely, he'd just end up hurting them somehow. And with the price on his head, he knew their story would have no happy ending.
If they were lucky, his soul mate would never have to meet him.
If they were lucky, justice would find him first.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
When Julian met Xori, he didn't know what to make of her. This woman who stared him down so fearlessly when he broke into her shop. Who sneered at his warnings about Asra, who felt inexplicably familiar, even though he was sure they'd never met.
He knew what to make of her even less when he found her stuck in a barrel outside the Rowdy Raven.
He knew she'd been called to the palace; he knew what she'd been tasked to do. And yet no guards burst in to clap him in irons, and she had been covered in burrs.
And he saw that flicker of defiance in her eyes when she told him that she would not be roped into anything against her will- not even by the Countess. That she would not be handing him over to the gallows.
He wasn't sure what to make of her, but he found himself being drawn in despite himself. And he couldn't resist flirting with her, even after she'd caught him breaking into her shop again. And... she started flirting back.
He wondered, as she trailed her gloved hand over his hip after finishing her search of him, if she'd known the effect, she was having on him. If she knew how those eyes of hers, alight with mischief, sent his heart racing.
And oh, he'd never been able to help himself. Had never been able to keep his heart in check.
After that day outside her shop, he found that he couldn't stop thinking about her.
He knew better than to hope, though. Knew better than to let himself think of possibilities. The mark on his hand was still grey, after all, and they'd touched a lot. Surely, they'd brushed against each other's skin by that point...
Besides. He knew by now that life was only ever going to leave him disappointed.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
And yet... here they were again, together.
Even if she was bleeding out in his arms under the starlight.
He'd managed to get her to an alley out of sight of any passing guards before he lay her down on the rough cobblestones and set about trying to save her life.
When he pushed her shirt up to get a look at the steadily oozing wound on her side, for a moment he froze.
Because the bite was smack dab in the center of a soul mark.
Even smeared with blood, even in the darkness, the pale grey was unmistakable- the color of an untouched soul mark shaped like a hand pressed flat to her skin.
He looked at the grey staining his own hand, and he couldn't help himself.
Nor could he hesitate, with her still bleeding.
He pressed his hand flat to her skin, covering the soul mark on her side perfectly, like it had been made for him.
When he removed his hand, he hardly felt the fresh stab of pain in his side as he took the wound from her, hardly noticed the blood now steadily seeping into his shirt while his curse began healing him.
Because where once the mark on her skin had been grey... it had settled into a rippled blue, like waves on the sea.
And his hand...
His hand, smeared with her blood as it was, had sprung to life with a vibrant, mossy green flecked with gold, like sunlight dappled on leaves.
And for a moment he couldn't move.
But then she let out a weak, ragged attempt at a laugh. "We have to stop meeting like this," she told him. And she was looking up at him, gratitude in her dark eyes. And she was so beautiful...
He closed his soul marked hand into a fist to mask the green and pulled her shirt back down over the blue now staining her skin. He helped her sit, steadying her with a hand at her back and a laugh he did not feel. He joked about how at least she hadn't caught him breaking in this time as he carefully tugged his gloves back on, hoping she didn't see the green that had bloomed across his skin.
Because she deserved better than him for a soulmate. Anyone would... but she, especially, deserved more.
He told her that she had some kind of luck, but he wasn't talking about the eel.
And thankfully, by some miracle, she was too distracted by the glowing rune on his throat to realize that everything had changed. To notice the way he couldn't stop staring at her.
It was a relief. He hadn't known her very long, but he knew it would be better for her if she never realized what they were to each other.
But even as he hid it from her, his heart was soaring, and he wasn't sure what to do with this new discovery, but he knew it had given him more hope than he'd had in years.
And so, when she pulled him into that hidden garden, when she stood before him dusted in the soft glow of the starstrand above them, he had kissed her before he really knew what he was doing. Before he could stop himself.
And she didn't pull away.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Too many things happened at once for Xori to notice the new splash of color on her side.
She had nearly died, and Julian had saved her. Then he'd kissed her, not once, but twice. And she'd found that she had liked it.
She wasn't thinking about her soul mark though- she and Julian had already touched, after all, and so she knew he wasn't meant to be hers. But that didn't stop her from enjoying the feel of his mouth against hers.
And then, when she woke at dawn curled up safe in the hiding hole at Mazelinka's, the wild swirling of her thoughts had calmed somewhat. And maybe, if she'd been left to her thoughts, she'd have realized that her bite and the spot where Julian had touched her was right where her soul mark was.
But she didn't get the chance. Because just as she was mulling things over, Julian cried out in his sleep as a nightmare left him shaking on the floor.
And then he was looking at her strangely and asking about forgiveness as he sat trembling on the bed.
She was so focused on him that she didn't pause to think it odd that he'd been sleeping with his gloves on.
She was too busy pulling him into her arms and running her hands through his hair to soothe him.
There was fondness for him rapidly growing within her. And they ended up falling asleep again in each other's arms.
When she woke, she woke alone. And that left an ache in her chest that she hadn't expected.
What was he to her, after all? They'd kissed a couple times yes, but she barely knew him! Why did it make her so sad to find him gone?
At least she hadn't been alone long before he showed back up with breakfast... and a foreboding declaration that they needed to talk.
The talk, when it finally came, left her aching even worse. He assured her that he'd only hurt her, that they wouldn't have a happy ending. That they could no longer be together.
And she knew that he was probably right. He was wanted for murder and had been sentenced to death. If she was caught helping him, she would probably hang alongside him.
And though she knew this... it still hurt. To be pushed away like that so soon.
Though she knew that the future probably led nowhere good, she wanted to forget it for a night. She wanted him...
So, when he kissed her again, desperate and needy and so achingly sad, she tried to focus on the moment. Tried to memorize the feel of his lips against hers, the taste of his mouth. Because if all he was going to leave her with were memories, she wanted to remember as much as she could.
When he left her at the doorstep of her shop... it felt like he took a piece of her with him.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
She finally realized the truth not long after he left.
She was getting ready for bed, mulling over Asra's words- how he'd told her to be careful with Julian.
Asra himself was already asleep, curled up and breathing softly in the bed they'd always shared.
She tossed her shirt aside and reached for a nightgown, and then she caught an unfamiliar splash of color in the mirror out of the corner of her eye.
It was her soul mark. And it was no longer grey but swirled with blue. As if someone had painted the ocean on her skin.
For a long moment, she could only stare.
Because she knew exactly what had happened. Because the only person that had touched her there... was Julian.
But... but how could that be? Had that moment in the alley really been the first time they'd properly touched...?
And did he know...?
Because if he HAD known, and he'd still pushed her away...
He must not have realized. Somehow, he... he must have missed it, like she had. It had been dark after all, and he was always wearing gloves...
How else could he have pushed her away like that?
How else could he have left her behind?
Xori traced the swirling waves on her skin with her fingers, then pressed her palm flat to the mark. Her hand wasn't big enough to cover his handprint with hers.
She left her hand there for a long moment, growing contemplative, taking in all the implications that her mark now brought with it.
She was meant for a man on the run. A man who might've killed the Count and didn't remember the truth. A man who could be executed soon.
And yet... she still found a small smile tugging at her lips.
Because even though this hadn't been at all what she'd expected, and even though there was so much potential for heartbreak... there was one incredible upside: she'd found him at last.
And that made it all worth the risk.
And if there was one thing she knew now, it was this: they wouldn't end in tragedy.
Not if she had anything to say about it.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
She didn't tell Asra about the change to her mark. She didn't tell Portia, when she showed up at the shop to ask for Xori's help in keeping Julian safe.
She felt like she and Julian needed to talk about it first, but she didn't know how to bring it up.
And he wasn't in a state for a talk like that when they found him at the Rowdy Raven. He was drunk, drowning his sorrows, and he still didn't want their help.
But neither she nor Portia were going anywhere. Portia was tied to him by blood, and Xori by fate, and no matter how much he wanted to, he couldn't change that.
So, he gave up trying to push them away.
He gave in and let them help.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
All that day, as they made their way to the palace and began their quest for answers, Julian kept giving Xori these searching looks, but looked away when she tried to catch his eye.
Like he was trying hide from her.
It wasn't until they got to library, got to be alone again, that Xori was able to corner him and make him face her at last.
And then apologies spilled from him like the tide. He apologized for rejecting her, for leaving her, for too many things. But he made no mention of soul marks.
"Let me see your hands," she said, cutting through his outpouring of remorse.
He grew still and quiet, but held his gloved hands up for her inspection.
"Without the gloves," she told him.
"Xori..." He looked almost... afraid.
"Julian, you have to know what we are by now," she said, searching his face, "I know what we are." She pulled her shirt up, exposing his handprint staining her skin.
"I noticed the change last night. You're the only person who's touched me there."
A whole mess of emotions crossed Julian's face. Relief, regret, sadness...
He slowly pulled the glove off his right hand and showed her his palm, now stained with brilliant greens and faint hints of gold.
"I know too..." he admitted, not quite meeting her eyes, "I bet you're disappointed, huh? Out of all the people in the world... you got stuck with me."
She took his hand, pressed it gently to the mark on her side. It covered the blue perfectly.
"I'm not disappointed," she said quietly, sincerely. She hadn't known him long, but she knew that much.
He looked at the place where their marks met, and a shiver went through him. Then his eye finally met hers, searching her face like he couldn't quite believe his ears. "You... what?"
"I'm not disappointed," she said again, and hesitantly reached up to cup his cheek.
He leaned into her touch like he craved it, like he'd been waiting all his life to feel her hands upon his skin.
"Xori..." he murmured, "...where do we go from here? What do you want me to do?" Fiery passion gleamed in his eye.
"Kiss me, you fool," she breathed.