After what seemed like a while of clashing and clanging of blades, the training hall was quiet now, the echo of blades and footwork replaced by the soft creak of the floorboards as Lilith and Rafael walked side by side toward the courtyard.
Neither spoke at first. The silence between them wasn't heavy—it was thoughtful, like a shared breath after exertion. Both were considerate after the harsh spar.
Lilith rolled the linen wraps from her hands, fingers working slowly. Rafael glanced at her, then down at her hands.
"You used to wrap tighter," he said. His eyes locked on her fingers.
She looked up, surprised. "You remember that?"
He nodded. "You'd cut off circulation without noticing. I'd have to remind you to loosen them."
Lilith smiled faintly. "I thought it made me sharper. Y'know? The more numb you are, the more you focus."
"And now?" He examined her closely, his eyes focused on her. He'd never blinked.
She flexed her fingers. "Now? I want to feel things."
Her reply was his reminder that change was constant, and the time they've lost was really to make up for.
Later, they reached the courtyard, where the sun had begun to dip behind the western wall. Rafael gestured toward the bench beneath the fig tree, and they sat, close enough but not touching.
He watched her for a moment, then said, "You still tilt your head when you're thinking. Just a little to the left."
Lilith raised an eyebrow. "I do?" She was surprised where he was getting these from. It didn't really strike her that Rafael was so attentive.
"You always have. Even back then, when we were just exchanging reports and pretending not to care."
She laughed softly. "I remember you used to tap your pen against the table when you were frustrated. Three taps, always."
Rafael grinned. "Still do. I just use my knuckle now." he waved his hands at her, laughter imminent in the atmosphere.
They sat in the warmth of shared memory, the tension of the past was somehow softened by time. Lilith leaned back, letting her shoulders relax. She'd never thought that there would ever be a time so leisurely spent like this.
"You used to avoid the garden," she said. "You said it felt too exposed, and rambled about security and stuff." She laughed heartily, patting her stomach.
"I did," Rafael replied. "Hey but now I like it. It reminds me that not everything needs walls."
Lilith turned to him. "You've changed."
"So have you."
She nodded. They noticed things about each other a lot, back then and now..and she just realized those unconscious habits they became so accustomed to. "I think being understood might be stronger."
Rafael looked at her, his eyes glinted at her statement. "You're still hard to read," he then faintly smiled, "good thing I'm a fast learner."
She smiled, a quiet thing. "You're quite patient."
He shrugged. They watched the sky shift, the light turning amber. A servant passed quietly, placing a tray of tea on the nearby table. Lilith poured for both of them, her movements ever so graceful.
"You still drink it without sugar," Rafael noted.
"And you still add too much," she teased.
He chuckled. "Some habits die hard."
Their tastes were completely the opposite of their personalities, truly unexpected. Only the two of them would really know each other inside and out.
They sipped in silence, the tea warm between their palms. Lilith glanced at him, studying the lines at the corners of his eyes, the way he sat now—less guarded, not stiff at all.
"You used to carry tension in your jaw," she said. "Like…you were bracing for impact. Watching you would always make me anticipate something I don't even know!" she joked.
"I was," he admitted. "This time, it's a conversation I look forward to." he faintly smiled.
She laughed again, fuller this time. "Hey, that's progress Mr. Nonchalant!" Lilith stared down at the cup she was holding. She couldn't predict where the conversation was going.
Rafael leaned back, watching her with calmness. "You used to leave rooms before they got quiet, now you stay. I quite love this change about you."
Lilith looked down at her cup. "I don't want to miss out on anything anymore." she faintly smiled, her expression solemn.
He leaned in to ease the space between them.
The wind stirred the fig leaves above them, casting flickers of shadow across the stone. They didn't speak again for a while, letting the quiet settle around them like a shared blanket.