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Trivial matters, such as fighting over people in order to gain someone’s attention, were something that had never graced Nefer’s book. At least, that’s what she believed, up to the moment she fumed whenever anyone smiled at Lauma.
Alright, perhaps that was a bit too extreme. Lauma deserves all the attention in the world.
The Moonchanter, her dearest friend, deserves to be loved and showered with good things. Small repayment for her never-ending benevolence, or so Nefer thought.
But alas, she did not expect her friend to be that popular in Nefer’s birth-nation.
It had been only two days since they arrived in Sumeru’s major harbour, and in those two days, Nefer had lost count of how many people had stopped to give something to the deer-lady.
Flowers, mostly, sometimes even a quick poem here and there. And they were cheesy, mind you.
Lauma was happy, however, with her experience thus far. The taller woman said, and Nefer begrudgingly quoted, Sumeru and its people were warm. So warm they rivalled the gentle sunrays.
Now, she did not want to read between the lines, but the last bit felt as if it was said to her, directly. As if Nefer was the sun to Lauma’s moon.
Anyway, she digressed. She was supposed to be mad at her companion.
The purpose of this journey was to be a short getaway for them. From the hustle and bustle of Nod-Krai, as well as fulfilling Nefer’s own promise to seek her old friends, Candace and Katayoun.
She stood her ground that exchanging letters was enough. Yet, after one doe-eyed woman begged her to go, well, save to say, she really had to assent lest she disappoint her friend.
And she’d hate to be the one to do that; she’d berate herself endlessly for every single frown on Lauma’s face.
Thus, they embarked on their month-long vacation after both leaders of their own factions had delegated their tasks to their trusted ones.
The trip from Nod-Krai to Sumeru was nice, the weather was nice, and the companion was nice. She often found herself gravitating toward Lauma, more so than usual.
Perhaps, that’s what made her complacent. It made her soft, and now she yearned to be basked with the same warmth and radiance.
Truthfully, Lauma did not deny her anything. It was Nefer who, with her pride, deprived herself of initiating conversations. Suffice to say, she wanted Lauma to be the one to talk first.
Much like when they were aboard the ship. Much like when they were in Nod-Krai.
Yet when the Moonchanter actually tried to strike up a conversation, Nefer only gave curt answers. Mostly because she was vexed with the fact that others got the attention of her friend first and foremost before her.
Nefer would never admit that, of course.
However, Lauma noticed almost everything when it came to Nefer, including her current episodes of sulking, so to speak.
Be as it may, the Moonchanter met with obstacles, namely, how to gently breach the subject, without her sounding as if she was assuming something was wrong with Nefer.
And yet, perhaps the Archon of the land heard her prayers, for the moment suddenly presented itself in front of her, never mind the fact that it had her friend fuming.
It began with the arrival of one mercenary from the land beyond the walls. An Eremite, Nefer called her under her breath, but Lauma found the newcomer to be a nice woman.
She was almost as tall as Lauma, with her voice loud and yet it carried a certain command in there. Strong, yet gentle at the same time, based on the quick handshake they did earlier.
Honestly, Lauma and the other tall woman talked for only about less than five minutes. Their intruder (Nefer’s words, not hers) was giving some pointers to Lauma on which area of the desert had the best view of the stars.
Then she also guided Lauma to the food stalls nearby. She even bought Lauma a cup of coffee, which was actually a nice gesture, had it not been accompanied by a flirty remark.
“I think you’re akin to the beans from this land,” the woman had said to Lauma. “So fine and had a rich aroma at the same time.”
Now, it was harmless. It startled Lauma, yes, but she also laughed at the genuine and blatant flirtation. One that she returned with a blinding smile.
A wrong move, perhaps, for it angered a certain someone who hovered nearby.
To diffuse the situation, Lauma then gave a schooled smile as she thanked the benevolent woman. She leaned forward slightly, then a mischievous smile suddenly graced her face.
Sure, she wanted to appease Nefer, but oh, a tease or two should be delivered beforehand.
“I appreciate the coffee, Miss,” said Lauma earnestly, voice quiet as she did not want her journey companion to overhear her words. The fact that they were in a very busy market helps too.
“Although I must apologise, I already have my own date for the day—and possibly many more, should I play my cards right.” Added the Moonchanter with an additional chuckle trailed behind.
A quick glance to her side, and she could see the frown on Nefer’s forehead. It was a scowl. The woman who would always hide her emotions was now openly sporting a look of disdain on her face.
Interesting, noted Lauma as she finally stepped back from the burly yet kind woman in front of her. There was a flicker of understanding on the other’s face, for she laughed out loud, voice booming even amidst the chaos of the market.
“I wish you luck then, My Lady,” she stated, no less genuine than before. “If your lady did not appreciate the effort, you can find me around the dock.”
Akin to a whirlwind, the woman sauntered away, her boisterous laugh could still be heard as she walked to the road leading to the dock just a few paces away from where they were.
Now, it was Lauma’s time to shine, she thought to herself quite literally.
“Done with your beloved, Moonchanter?” huffed Nefer. It sounded almost like a snark, and Lauma had to stop herself from letting out a smile blooming on her face.
“She was just being kind to tourists, Nefer.” Sighed the Moonchanter as she stood close to her companion.
This way, Lauma towered over the Boss of the Curatorium of Secrets. Even more, because the remaining lights of the dusk cast a certain shadow on her figure.
It did not result in what Lauma had hoped for, or perhaps it did, for Nefer’s silence allowed Lauma to convey her plans for their evening.
“Nefer,” began Lauma, her voice soft, and it made the other woman twitch her eyes. “I apologise, I haven’t been a good companion for you during this journey of ours.”
She was about to continue, but Nefer had one of her arms up, effectively silencing her friend.
“You didn’t do anything wrong.” Interjected Nefer, yet she hadn’t looked at Lauma directly.
“Perhaps so, but I’ve caused you discomfort, haven’t I?” Mused Lauma, and this, Nefer did not deny.
“If you’re amicable, I wish to correct my error,” added the Moonchanter. “A stroll to the secluded garden by the Akademiya with me, if you’re willing, my dear.”
It was Nefer’s hideout when she was still a student in the Akademiya. A tranquil place hidden from prying eyes. Moreover, it also had a clear view of the vast forests and the river below.
She had mentioned the secret place to Lauma before, and the Moonchanter had it memorised in her mental notes. After all, anything that brought joy and happiness to her dearest friend had to be cherished, or at least that was the case for Lauma.
“I have to admit, I’m a little tired today, and I wish to find a place to recuperate. One that permits us to gaze upon the scenery.” Her excuse, while true, was actually still an excuse.
This type of crowd, although different from her usual mix in Nod-Krai, was never a bother. Lauma loved learning about new places. Especially because Sumeru was the nation where her esteemed colleague had spent most of her younger years.
There was a little bit of resistance and even suspicion from Nefer’s side, for her eyes were sharp. As if she were trying to dissect what Lauma had wanted from her.
But Lauma knew it was a battle she’d won. She had pulled the same tricks, with slightly different twists, countless times. And they worked wonders, not that she would boast about it to the people, really.
It was her most treasured untold lore from this friendship she shared with Nefer.
In turn, however, Lauma had her own weak spots too when it came to Nefer. For example, right now, the other woman had resigned with a sigh as she started to guide them to the secluded garden.
Nefer rarely demands it, and yet Lauma walked on the more crowded side of the street, and it came naturally to her.
It was her weak spot. Lauma, the beacon of hope for her people, would always try to shield Nefer from any potential harm. This had doubled ever since their battle with Rerir.
In her defence, Lauma would say that Nefer had sacrificed a lot for them. And so, in turn, she could give her something she’d rarely had before; a sense of security.
Back then, Nefer would question her action. These days? The shorter woman would acknowledge it by giving a curt nod or a short word of appreciation.
It grew from something with a gap to something that allowed them to walk side by side, their hands occasionally brushing.
Thankfully, as if being blessed by the moon that now started to rise, the walk was uneventful. No more distractions from nosy people, nor unwanted attention from the passersby.
Before long, they arrived at the aforementioned place. And personally, for Lauma, to refer to the place as something secluded or tranquil would not do the right justice.
The garden was the epitome of everything halcyon. Its beauty was almost arcadian, with lush and verdant vegetation sheltering them from curious eyes.
To top it all, Nefer was actually smiling, noted Lauma as she let her feet wander around the small alcove. The prettiest, decided the Moonchanter. Even more ethereal and majestic than the moon she worshipped.
Neither spoke for a moment. Lauma was busy admiring the beauty before her, and Nefer had her eyes anywhere but on Lauma.
It was almost unbearable to be watched, so Lauma decided to nudge on to the subject. To address the cat in the room, for the lack of grander words.
“You’re mad at me.” An observation, not a question, certainly not a judgement.
“I’m not mad at you.” Returned the other, eyes flicked to Lauma for a brief second to assert her statement.
“You’ve been avoiding me, then.” Hummed Lauma. She took the chance to sit beside the woman.
Not exactly skin to skin, but closer than what friends should be.
“Sure it isn’t just in your pretty head, Moonchanter?” Scoffed the woman, denying the words.
“In my head, you’re experiencing a bad trip these past few days,” noted Lauma, ignoring the pretty that slipped by. “Help me to understand what’s bothering you, so we can have our trip back on the right track, please?”
“The trip is on the right track,” argued Nefer. “You can go back to your admirers, for all I care.”
The slip confirmed Lauma’s suspicion. She exhaled gently when Nefer scoffed, already shooting a string of excuses to cover her bluff.
“My admirers?” Soft words came from Lauma as she took Nefer’s hands to stop the other woman from further doom.
She meant to coax an explanation from her companion, but Nefer shut her mouth, saving herself from further error.
“Nefer, darling,” sighed Lauma. “I apologise, I haven’t been the best travel mate. My inconsideration has caused you discomfort.”
“Not your fault,” deflected Nefer in an instant, because it really wasn’t the Moonchanter’s fault.
Lauma could see the warring thoughts running inside Nefer’s conflicted eyes. The woman did not get softer; Lauma just could read her better.
She waited for a bit, again, for further explanation—anything.
“I detest this place,” admitted Nefer at the end. “You’re allowed to enjoy Sumeru and its hospitality to the fullest; it was me who got swept up in the bouts of unnecessary emotions.”
Lauma understood that it pained Nefer to even set her feet back to the very land that had her exiled in the very first place. The land that made her feel unwanted.
Beyond the blatant jealousy, lies the fear of being abandoned. It was something they’d talked about before, how Nefer was afraid to make meaningful connections.
Everyone would leave me at the end, was what Nefer said to Lauma.
And it was her greatest sin to believe that this trip would be a fine one with her being there for Nefer. But alas, no. People could get lonely, too, even in crowded places. Even when they were with their closest ones.
“Oh, Nefer, your emotions are never unnecessary,” sighed Lauma, full of remorse. “It was I who had convinced you to come back to Sumer, and it was also I who hurt you by not realising this sooner.”
She was about to apologise again, but Lauma refrained herself. Instead of words, real action would be more meaningful.
“Tell me how to fix this,” whispered Lauma, pulling herself closer to Nefer. “Please.”
Silence ruled their conversation, and Nefer stood up, walking towards the edge of the garden. Her eyes, ever sharp, reflected the moon and the stars above them.
In all her life, Lauma had never wanted to wrap her arms around someone more than now. She wanted to protect her dearest companion forever, however long that might be.
“I was not jealous, for the record,” began Nefer, not turning to face Lauma. “Jealousy is too fickle to describe what I felt.”
“You were afraid I would leave you,” stated Lauma, almost inaudible.
“I know you won’t,” returned the other, for once confident and true.
“They won’t take me away,” responded the Moonchanter, softer than before.
“You don’t know that,” came the sharp reply.
And it made Lauma frown.
“Sumeru is harsher than Nod-Krai. Everyone takes something. Possess something. If they don’t? They’d take it by force.”
From where she sat, even under the dim light, Lauma could see Nefer’s trembling form. It wasn’t ire. Something more raw than simple anger.
“In this land, there’s always a chance they’d take you away from me, Lauma,” seethed the other. “If not the Akademiya, then the forest and the sand.”
Lauma took the chance to stand behind the woman, gently, she placed her hands on Nefer’s shoulders and turned the other towards her.
There weren’t any tears, only regret and remorse, all reflected clearly in those verdant green orbs.
“But you won’t let them take me away,” soothed Lauma.
“Over my dead body.” Scoffed Nefer, which resulted in a smile from the Moonchanter.
“I’d rather see you alive and well, Nefer,” she chided the other. “But thank you, that was sweet of you to do that for your friend.”
It obviously ended in more scoffs and grunts from the short-haired woman, and Lauma wished she could just shut the other woman away.
“You’re terribly delusional if you think I’m sweet, Moonchanter,” snarked Nefer. “And we’re not friends.”
The admission should’ve stung, but instead, Lauma raised her eyebrow. She secretly took it as a challenge.
“Then what are we, Nefer?”
“Co-workers.”
“I do not work for the Curatorium of Secrets,” returned Lauma, daring herself to put both hands around Nefer’s cheeks.
When the other did not deliver any objection, Lauma gambled further.
“Besides, would you let your co-workers be this close to you?” Laughed the Moonchanter, quiet and almost too intimate.
Nefer shook her head, but her eyes flicked to respond to the challenge.
“Let them try. They’d have claws to their throat.”
Lauma chuckled at the retort, but she sighed then. Perhaps she, too, needed to push herself for once.
“Really?” It was a rhetorical question. “If I’m not your friend, and certainly not your co-worker, then would you let me, a nobody, to kiss you?”
There. She said the words and practically rolled the ball to the other woman.
Lauma counted every passing second, awaiting her judgment. She mentally scolded herself for potentially ruining what she had with Nefer.
“No.”
Oh, that hurts.
Lauma tried to blink her surprise away, hands gradually retracting from the face she wished she could hold forever.
“Because you’re far from a nobody for me,” added Nefer, and Lauma had her hands enveloped by another set of hands. Nefer’s. Strong and unyielding.
Lauma counted again. To three this time. Then, she cleared her throat as if to take back her vanishing courage.
“Allow me to rephrase my words then; would you let me, a far from nobody for you, to kiss you?”
There was no immediate answer. At least, not verbally.
Because less than a second later, soft lips found hers. Chaste at first, before it probes further, yet no less gentle.
They retracted for a while, sucking air and admiring each other. Then, Lauma was the one who came down to capture the same lips.
It felt like a homecoming. It felt as if she had just quenched a year-long thirst. It felt right.
And she did so again, and again, and again until she felt tears on her own face. Happy ones, she told Nefer almost instantly, lest the other might think the Monchanter had her regrets.
She did not, of course. Lauma regretted many things in her life. But not this; never this.
Because this was her truth after a long, long time.
“I truly am sorry, Nefer,” breathed Lauma when they finally sat back down on the bench. “Not for the kiss, but because I really had caused you discomfort these past few days.”
Almost cocky, to some degree, and yet still full of contrition. A testament to her character, as both Lauma, who loved Nefer, and the Moonchanter, a beacon to her people.
“Stop with your apologies, or I’m revoking your pass to kiss me,” scoffed Nefer for the nth time that night.
“It’s fine,” Nefer continued with a gentler voice. “I’m fine now.”
Perhaps it wasn’t a full lie, but Lauma knew there was more to read beyond what her newfound lover put on the surface.
“Still, please allow me to redeem my sins.”
It was a promise. To repent. To cherish the other, so that she won’t ever feel as if anyone would take things she holds dear anymore.
Nefer regarded her then, with these unreadable eyes of hers. They softened, however, after a while.
“Fine,” she said at the end. “Enough talking, more actions.”
A command. Curt and direct, and Lauma almost smirked at that. Still, she didn’t have any objection to the order.
And so she leaned forward and breathed her answer.
“Yes, my light.”
-Fin.
[Epilogue]
Much, much later, when the moon was already high in the sky, Nefer and Lauma walked back to the inn they’d booked for the next few days. They’ve shared countless walks together, but this time, they did it as lovers.
A newfound thing for them; the latter had her arm linked around the former, and there was a green silk draped around her—enough to shield the Moonchanter from the night air.
Sumeru was lively even at night, noted Lauma, because they took a slight detour; keen to revel in the atmosphere to the fullest.
They were almost at the dock by the river when the taller woman was pulled flush to her beloved’s side. The movement was so sudden that she had to brace herself by encircling her arms around the other woman.
Before she could ask what prompted the sudden shift, Nefer suddenly kissed her. On the cheek, but it was a long one for sure.
“Some eyes are watching you, darling; by the stall on the left,” was the explanation Lauma got from Nefer, and suddenly everything clicked.
She laughed then, voice clear as she did so. Lauma acknowledged her lover’s observation by turning herself to said direction and waving slightly to the Eremite they’d met earlier.
There was no malice; instead, the Eremite waved back after she shot a boisterous laugh. Unlike Lauma’s, her voice was loud enough that some turned to witness the voice owner.
The laugh, if it was even possible, got louder a few seconds later. The Eremite lady even whistled a few times, because this time, Lauma initiated a full kiss on Nefer’s lips.
It wasn’t a taunt, but a show of love. One that said this woman is taken.
Or beyond that, she’s mine, back off.
She pulled Nefer afterwards, giggling like a teenager as they both almost ran to their shared inn. It was liberating, thought Lauma when they finally entered the room, to be with the one she had loved for so long.
And she wouldn’t have it any other way.