Inactive
A city square in Nezamiyeh, Chaldea
While still recovering from the injuries he had sustained on Epoch, Ishani’s mentor Arlo Renard had refused to remain bedridden. “It’s bad for the constitution, just lying about all day long,” he had insisted. “You’ve got to keep moving if you want to heal right.”
This early in the process, the most the old Mystic could manage was a walk around town. Ishani, who was visiting him in the hospital, agreed to accompany him. It was better than a nurse or medical droid following him around, and despite his typically cantankerous manner, Ishani sensed he appreciated her company.
With him dressed in loose clothing and her in her Mystic’s gown and veil, the two made their way through the city, walking down dusty roads. After years of dealing with fast-growing plantlife cracking the pavement, the Chaldeans had done away with paved streets in favor of smoothed dirt and cobblestone. Speaking of overgrown plants, Ishani swept aside the drooping branches of a willow tree that had spread overnight from the front yard where it was planted into the street, more or less blocking the way.
As she parted the soft green curtain, she saw a crowd gathered outside a church up ahead. Autumn leaves fell from the trees growing high above the square, littering the ground with gold. The crowd parted, and a well-dressed couple slipped through the gap, hand in hand. Holo-cameras flashed and the onlookers cheered as the newlyweds paused to share a kiss.
Beside her, Arlo snorted. “You know, they used to say that people were always getting married in Chaldea.”
Ishani crossed her arms, her expression strained. Watching the couple climb into a waiting speeder, her chest felt tight with an unknown emotion. “I know,” she murmured. “I’ve been to more weddings than I can count.”
