"You're shu?"

By the time she had finally touched the land of Ravka and felt the way the grass seemed to dull beneath her feet, like the moisture that had once clung to the blades had been sucked out and drained like the myth of vampire to corpses, it was safe to assume that Delia was feeling rather...strange. Almost as if she'd taken a step into the past that haunted her as her dark gaze drifted and lingered across the harsh panes she'd once lived in, jaw clenched so tightly that for a moment, she feared the tendons wound snap and render her speechless like she had always felt in the crushing pressure that had surrounded her.

Home, that's what she's said, that was what had slipped from her bruised lips that spun sweet lies and terrible truths. Home, home, home...but had the little palace ever been her home? Had it been her comfort, the place she mourned when the nights grew cold and vicious and the shivers that would wreck her body seemed to seep into the very bones that lay beneath her skin. Had she ever had a home, a place where she was wanted, loved, worshipped instead of ignored and ruined...and the answer cane quicker to her than she had expected, had arrived only to be buried just as quick as it had resurfaced.

Because when Delia thought of the word home, it had never been a place, she doubted that it would ever truly be a place. When she thought of home and warmth and all things gentle, it was always to memories and longings of two arms holding her tight so she wouldn't crumble into fragile pieces and to hair so red that it seemed to dance with amber flame and everlasting beauty.

She closed her eyes tightly at the mere thought that maimed her with a sudden swell of adoration, her breath catching in her bloodied lungs and making it stutter as she held it carefully, trying not to lose herself in her visions and devastating dreams that had kept her moving and alive all of those years alongside the most powerful motivator of spite and a strange thirst for blood that had truly only gotten stronger and far more ravenous as the years stretched on, until the days where the shu girl would look in the mirror, and simply no longer recognize the girl that had once stood where she had, the flickering red of her gaze, the scars on her once perfect skin, the hatred etched upon her face like her own wicked god.

Things may of changed, Delia may of changed and became something so much worse than a tide-maker that couldn't even make water shiver...but there was one thing that hadn't, one thing that she feared would forever be her constant...and that was the only thing that made her feel powerless like she had been when she'd been a child who knew nothing of the world and had suffered greatly for her ignorance.

Perhaps that's why she'd practically ran to where she knew the General would be, holed up in his room, awaiting their report, the proof of what she'd done, desperate to catch a glimpse of the power she'd been cursed with, because dealing with that felt more safer than trying to ignore the feeling inside her that had been bottles up for five years and counting...and yet, when she stood outside of his doors, hearing his familar voice welcoming her in, she couldn't help but wonder if that had been the best decision after all as she stepped inside and was swallowed by darkness.

"General." She greeted carefully, staring into the back of his voidless kefta, desperately trying not to show the unease that was lacing through her veins as she stood and remained as still as prey to his predator, but when he did finally turn around...he didn't seem suprised in the slightest to find her alive, in fact, he looked almost as if he'd been expecting it, as if he could read the stars. Perhaps that's why she'd been sent away in the first place, and perhaps he could see the monster she'd soon become and decided to control it before she controlled him.

But his hungry eyes were slow to roam over her every feature as she took him in just as hesitantly, looking at her with that same, greedy look that had haunted her from the moment she'd left the Little palace to find her ruin, a smile leaching it's way to his sinful lips that whispered empty promises...and she couldn't help but be reminded of the basalisk that she'd killed when she felt his gaze linger upon her flesh as if it were a caress.

Because she could see that they shared that same sharpness inside them that tore at pity with bloodstained teeth, they shared the same darkness that spead like the vast night until it had possessed them completely, the same reputation of being something wrong and dangerous and devastating, intoxicating everyone and everything by the sweetness of their cruelty...but now, she supposed she too shared their fate, their destiny and death...and when she looked into his ravaged face, she wondered which horror the other should be more afraid of...the monster she became or the one she didn't.

"Ah, hello Delia, haven't you grown up. I take it that your journey was eventful?"

Oh, the things she wanted to say, the years all colliding like the sea against the shore as memory after memory thickened inside of her until she feared she'd bleed out at the seams. She wanted to tell him all about the darkness that had blossomed inside of her, the kind that had drowned what was once kind or good, pulling down into the abyss below and trying to claw their way up with every day until she was choking on the saltwater she breathed. That she was now nothing more than sweet decay, and a mere clench of her fist would have masses bowing down to their knees as their mortal corpses converted and shifted to her wicked will.

Her hands were deadly now, and her rage just as destructive, and when the saints would ask her about love, about mercy she'd only respond with cruelty because of the monster he'd made of her, the monster she'd made of herself, the monster who wanted to make the whole world tremble.

However, instead of saying anything of the sort, Delia only nodded her head, an amused twitch to her cursed lips that spoke of something damning as she shrugged off the shawl that had hid her figure, showing her shapely shoulders that were burdened with hate and power, weighed down with the lives she hadn't lived but could of as she finally began pulling off of her velvet gloves...where he would finally see where the basilisk fang had tore through her flesh, the sharp edge peaking out from over her knuckles like a mocking claw, the skin around it blistered black and bloodied like sin.

And the shu girl thought that she would feel accomplished, perhaps even satisfied when he smiled almost proudly, his hand suddenly resting just above her own and his thumb twirling gentle patterns against her skin...but when he looked at her...when he looked at her, all Delia could see was those same sharp teeth that had been pinning her down to the wet marsh below her, drowning her in the swamp water while it thrashed and hissed above her, ready to bury its fangs into her throat and swallow her whole as it screeched and moved ever closer while she choked on her own blood.

But in the end she'd made a choice, in having her arm maimed by the beast she'd been sent to slay or her life taken by its hunger. And every day, she would wonder if she'd made the right decision when she'd used her own mortality as a weapon to slit it open like a butcher to a pig, and finally get the amplifier that would only end in her everlasting ruin.

"I assume you've heard the rumours." The darkling said, tearing her away from her thoughts as he finally let her go with a sigh, strolling over towards the familar chairs close to the amber flames that roared and flickered, sitting upon one leisurely with a flourishing grace she would always be jealous of as he waved a hand through the air in some kind of mocking exhaustion. "After all, you know how others talk, especially here. But I promise you, the sun summoner is not just a mere hoax. Well, perhaps she will be soon if she doesn't get her act together, it appears that quite like you, she's been having some...difficulties."

She didn't dare tell him that she had no idea what he was talking about, that even at sea she had been an outcast and not worthy to hear about such tales of home...only now, it was because she was something the others feared instead of scoffed at, the whispers of names such as puppetmaster or blood bender following her around like a diseased omen.

"It seems that you've arrived just in time, Delia...because I have a job for you, and something tells me that you above anyone else will be able to get it done." His voice, enchanting like dark chocolate and velvet washed over her, pulling her closer as he rolled the syllables of her name in his mouth like it was something important, never tearing his gaze away from hers, holding her prisoner in his eyes of blackened shadow, and she couldn't decide if she hated the hold they had on her, or craved it.

"What do you need me to do?"

And for a moment, the shu girl regretted that she wasn't more reluctant to hand over her compliance, that she didn't linger around the thoughts rolling in her head, the questions she wanted to ask but couldn't. Why was is so important that she was given the amplifier? Why wasn't she allowed to train for a few years before being sent on her way? Why could she do the things that no one else seemed to do? But most importantly, where was Genya? How was she? Had she missed her? Longed for her like Delia had every night, staring up at the stars and hoping she was looking at them the same?

"I simply need you to get the sun summoner to summon...by any means necessary."
______________________________________________

The sun summoners room was...well, it was exactly as she expected it to be in truth, large and strangely homely in a sense, like there was a certain warmth inside of it, something so thick and lively that she could almost taste it upon her tongue. At least, that's what Delia felt as she strolled around it, a hum in her throat and a frown on her brow as her gloved fingers idly trailed over everything and anything in an attempt to keep herself busy, so she wouldn't fall in the abyss of her own thoughts that had seemed to burst into a frenzy at the horror of leading with socialisation instead of fear.

Years upon the ship and after that had stripped her of such luxuries, stripped her naked of simple kindness until it was hard to remember that she was human and not simply a vessel for all things dangerous and bloody...and yet, here she stood, feeling so incredibly awkward that it was like she had almost never left, like she hadn't stained her hands with red sin, like she hadn't become a myth that had haunted the sea with wicked intentions, a prison of flesh with a hungry god inside her, ripe for anarchy and ready to explode.

Saints, she wondered if such defences had made her so dramatic too as Delia finally stopped her pacing with an annoyed roll of her eyes at her own frustration, taking a breath that made her lungs burn like the saltwater she'd swallowed in the silence of the room, deciding not to risk rubbing her palm down her face to soothe the headache that was steadily forming in case she ended up stabbing herself in the eye or something equally as embarrassing, not really wanting to revert back to nothing more than a laughing stock like she had been before she'd left to become a monster.

However, the shu girl knew exactly why she was so nervous, why she couldn't seem to keep still, why she felt like she'd been dropped back inside her lanky corpse to become one with humanity again...and that was because before she'd left, the General had thought she'd wanted to know the whereabouts of her ever precious Genya...which was apparently right by the sun summoners side.

She didn't know what to do, and she definitely didn't know what to say or even how to say it, how to even begin to tell her how much she'd missed the tailor as if she was a lost limb, how she'd dreamt of her and longed for her, how even now she'd split herself into pieces if she so wished it...but the chance of actually having a choice is such matters was cruelly snatched away from her as the door suddenly opened and she felt her bleeding heart pound at the familar sight of hair blessed with amber fire, smiling in amusement at the shorter girl by her side who looked as if she was in some kind of dream.

"Hello."

But that vision of theirs, as secret as it may be, the joke they both seemed to share was dropped and forgotten about as they startled, heads swirling around to find the culprit, the hidden monster that was awaiting their attention...and Delia tried not to react when Genya looked at her and froze, choking on the gasp that had almost left her perfect lips as her face paled and grew ashen, staring at the ghost that had haunted her for years, and a name forming on her mouth that felt like something to be worshipped. Delia, Delia, Delia...you came back for me.

And then the almost tide-maker broke the intimacy of their longing gazes, unable to look at her any longer in fear of all the things she's say, of all the things she wanted to do to her saint and her damnation, because in the tailor's presence, even now, there was divine ecstasy and humanity...whilst in her absence...well, in her absence Delia had descended into hell. So instead, she looked over towards the girl, the still living martyr and smiled just slightly, a foreign thing that felt wrong on a face designed for bloodshed and death. "You must be Alina Starkov...I've heard many things about you."

"You're shu?"

Of course, of all the things that she thought the girl was going to say, most important being who the fuck was the girl lingering in her room like some kind of phantom, that was at the bottom of the list as she paused, brows furrowing for half a second as her gloved hands curled into fists, still crossed behind her back in some kind of mocking respect, before she cleared her throat, quickly composing herself with a sharp nod. "And you're the supposed sun summoner, pleasure to meet your acquaintance, now that the obvious is out of the way, you should start getting dressed."

"I'm sorry, but who are you?"

There we go, Delia thought to herself in dark amusement as she finally started asking the right questions, rolling her shoulders to release the tension that had been staining them the moment she'd seen her one constant, but just as her mouth opened to reply, she was suddenly interrupted when Genya took a step forward, her gaze not, never tearing away from hers, only half serious in her belief that the moment her eyes adverted, there would be nothing but smoke and a painful embrace of loneliness in her place. "This is Delia Vyaseva...she was- she is a tide-maker."

But to Alina, that still didn't really make a lot of sense, why was the girl in her room? Why did she have to start getting dressed? And most importantly, why did her every nerve stand on edge the moment she'd noticed her standing there like an ominous shadow. The questions kept piling around her, getting more and more confusing as time stretched into eons...but when she glanced over to her friend...those questions came to an abrupt stop as she noticed the expression on the tailor's face, struck by the pure longing desire she found there, so powerful that she could practically taste it.

However, it appeared that the rather strange girl in front of them didn't see that look, or more accurately, she pretended she couldn't as she cleared her throat, standing just a bit straighter with those dark eyes of hers flickering around the room, but never straying to close to Genya, like if she did, her composure would crumble to mere pieces by her feet. "The general has asked me to help you, apparently we have a few things in common...besides the obvious that is."

"But you're a tide-maker."

"In a sense, yes, I was. Now get dressed, you have a long day ahead of you, miss Stakov, and I'd prefer we get on with it." There was something dark in Delia's voice that left no room for argument, a grim tone that only made her voice that much rougher while something dangerous festered in the air like a warning, something that had spines tingling and hair standing on edge like they were in the presence of something unnatural, and she truly did doubt that the sun summoner had ever moved so quickly in her life as she left to find where the hell she'd placed her clothes now.

And yet, it seemed that the moment Alina was gone, the tension that had been steadily building increased tenfold and came to an abrupt standstill, becoming so strong that the shu girl wondered if she could choke on it...as she finally pulled her head out of her own ass, and looked up towards the tailor who was both her poison and cure, half of her soul and all that was left of her ruined humanity...only to find that now, it was she who was going to be ignored as the red-head started to move around the room and tidy like a good little servant would. "Genya-"

"Excuse me." She muttered primly, nose in the air and a scowl upon her features as she tried to storm past her, arms full of the sheets she'd picked up, ready to sort them on the rather ridiculously sized bed so she wouldn't have to look at her greatest grief and hardest goodbye, but of course, Delia didn't move, saints, she didn't even try, because she'd forgotten how glorious her voice was until she had finally heard it bless her ears like the sirens lullaby once more. "I said excuse me-"

"Genya, please-"

Just like that, just with those pleading words, Genya finally exploded, rage pulling at her veins, at her fury, letting go of that bastard hope and wonder that had brought her such agonies at the thought of their last goodbye being their final one, years wasted on being so utterly terrified about her friends fate, only now to be standing in front of someone she didn't even recognize. "Don't- don't you dare 'Genya please' me, this is how I find out that you're back? By you just- just appearing and then leaving just as quickly to go and train Alina? And with not even a hello-"

"General Kirigan-"

"Screw the General!" The tailor snapped shrilly, only to wince as soon as those cursed words stumbled from her mouth, her lips thinning in fear as she took a swift glance around the room anxiously, as if expecting someone to hear and go running off to report her to said General...obviously not realising that Delia would never let that happen. But after a moment, she managed to calm, taking a breath and glaring with tear filled eyes over towards the tide-maker, and wondering how she could seem so infuriatingly calm, as if they'd never meant much to each other at all.

"General Kirigan isn't the one who has been waiting for you ever since you left the Little palace, he hasn't been the one writing you letters every single day even though he knew that you wouldn't be able to read them, he hasn't been the one scared out of his mind that you were-" Genya swallowed that thought as quickly as it had came, even now, unable to stomach the what ifs that had kept her up at night, nightmares plaguing her memories with wiccan blood spilling through once clear waters and staining them crimson, and every time, every time they came, the last thing she'd see was familar eyes, unseeing and cold and dead.

Tell her everything, tell her how you would of saved every letter, tell her that you left for her, to become powerful for her so no one could ever hurt either of you again, tell her that there is an entire forest inside you and that her initials are carved into every tree, that even if you was dead and rotting, you'd swim through the earth like a mermaid to sea, just so your bones were close to hers. Her desires were crippling, horrifying, maiming her from the inside out as Delia stood there and swallowed everything she wanted to say, disgusted at herself, disgusted at the adoration that seemed to never fucking leave like it was a ghost.

"If I had a choice in the matter, I would of came to you first, of course I would of...but I had my orders, just like you have yours." She whispered instead, hating the way her voice seemed to shake as she risked a step towards the tailor, and prayed to whatever saint that would listen to her damned soul that the red-head could see just how much this was ruining her.

However, all Genya could see was how different she looked to the girl she'd loved all those years ago, blue gaze drifting towards those sharp features that looked deadly, the scar on her pouty lips that always said her name as if it were a blessing, the sharp cheekbones that looked as though they were about to be punctured out of her pale flesh. She had always thought the tide-maker pretty, but now, staring at her carefully, she couldn't help but think that this beauty now was like a blade...with the only thing even remotely similar was the eyes...the eyes that still looked at Genya as if she was the divine entity who'd hung the moon and stars.

But before either of them could say something, say anything, the door suddenly swung open once more and Alina strolled in, finally dressed in her blue kefta and still looking like she had no idea what was going on as she huffed with her arms crossed over her chest in indignation. "Okay, I'm ready, where do we begin?"

"Well you can start by changing your shoes, we aren't going to a ball." Delia snapped, practically leaping away from the tailor with her gloved hands trembling into tight fists, her cheeks burning and flushed much to her frustration, pretending she couldn't see the sun summoners scowl or hear her cursing and muttering as she swiftly changed shoes, and desperately trying not to sneak glances over to where Genya stood, watching them both with her smile hidden behind those talented fingers. "Alright, now if you're ready, come along, we don't have all day."

"Saints, you're bossy, aren't you?"

"Yes, and I'm also incredibly violent too, so I would suggest you watch your tongue lest you want it ripped out." The tide-maker replied just as easily, the threat not lost on anyone even though she'd said it as if it were apart of everyday conversation, arms once more folding behind her back like some mocking salute and that dangerous gaze of hers resting firmly upon Alina's own, as if daring her to say something about it...which of course, she did, why wouldn't she? She'd never been the type to lay back and accept something and she wasn't about to start with the, quite frankly, terrifying girl in front of her.

"You can't say that-"

"You only need your hands to summon, miss Starkov...the rest is merely collateral. Now start walking." She hissed darkly, and then, with one last longing glance towards Genya that seemed to linger for longer than either had been expecting, she gave the summoner a shove, forcing her legs to move as she stalked up behind her like a bastard guard dog, wondering just what was going to happen now that she was finally back, and just what she was going to do to make sure the newfound fear that possessed most of the masses outside of the Little Palace...followed her here too.

"I'll see you at lunch?"

And yet she hadn't even got one foot out of the door before Genya's voice had reached her once more, the question hopeful, almost painful in its desire for an answer...and the smile that twitched at Delia's lips had never felt so good or so human as she allowed herself a moment, just a moment to revel in the adoration she held for the tailor that blessed her completely as she glanced over her shoulder with a grin that was nothing short of reminiscent at the familar saying that curled around her tongue like a sickening promise. "Get me some chocolate and I'll think about it, Miss Safin."

Home, she was finally home.