H was exactly as terrible as I had expected. That was my first thought as the ship scraped against the dock and the gangway dropped with a hollow clang. Lucien was already pulling his coat tighter, his wings pressing flat against his back. He jumped off the deck, offering his hand. I took it and jumped off behind him, my boots hitting the frost-covered wood. Atticus really owed me for this.
Good thing is helping them; look at this place. Lucien’s voice echoed in my mind, his dark, gravelly tone giving me a warm sensation in my core. It didn’t matter the number of years we had been together. His voice, touch, and even his goddamned smell gave me the same reaction.
We faced the dark woods ahead inland. There was a rundown village bordering the docks, but it looked so dead that I wouldn’t have thought anyone inhabited those rotting houses.
When we get home, I will need a half cycle at beach just to wash the stench of this place from my skin.
I replied, not bothering to use my voice. It was better communicating with him like this anyway.
Don’t worry. Atticus already assured us we would be granted leave.
Lucien tucked me under his arm, and I snuggled closer, trying to get some semblance of heat. The port of Valethra revealed more and more how it was closer to than life itself. Truly the home of the Purgedborns. Animals.
The buildings that lined the dock were grey and low, built for function rather than comfort. The smell was awful. The people moving through them had the same quality — heads bowed, purposeful, stripped of anything unnecessary. In we moved differently. Even our poorest quarters had color, noise, and the sense that life was being actively lived rather than endured. Here, it felt like endurance was the only thing on offer.