She gives his hand a squeeze. I bet the Blade will have advice for you. He's had a long time to figure it out. You're certainly worth getting to know, though.

He- nods. He's not entirely sure he believes her. But. Why lie? 

He looks up at the sky again, at the third moon. He glances in the direction of the CC. He should sleep.

He... doesn't want to let go, though. 

I don't know what rumors we'd be inviting, if you came to my room tonight.

The rumours hadn't actually occurred to him. He doesn't think he cares that much about any that would start. 

He should answer, though. 

"...Nothing worse than - the obvious. And. No one will really care." Nothing bad would come of any rumours arising. Cialin isn't like the Empire, where a prince spending a night with someone would be commented on all over the world. 

We could, then. - to sleep, not more than that, it occurs to her to add.

He nods. He hadn't been expecting anything else.

He takes a step back, towards the stairs leading down from the wall, tugging tentatively on their joined hands. 

She follows, giving him another little squeeze.

Love, she sends, when they get to the building, look who I found, and the sense of him.

He turns his attention to her as soon as his awareness of her increases again. What she sends him- surprises him, to say the least. 

Well, who could have expected to find a perfect match so close? He muses. He notes the differences, This one is very young, he sends, Younger even than Leskil was - the righteous soul, who wielded him during the rebellion. 

Why bring him? He asks, curious, certain in his decision not to bond with another, even another like himself.  

He needs a hug almost as badly as you do. And - maybe I'm a little confused, but I could hardly not, when he's you. She hasn't had time to sort anything out, yet, about how she feels - she wants to comfort Ilek because it's like comforting Stormsinger, yes, even though that doesn't really work, and also because, knowing Stormsinger, she knows how good and valuable Ilek is himself, and she wants him for a friend, wants both of them. (It's not a matter of Stormsinger not being enough; he's more than enough. It just doesn't occur to her that that might be a reason to stop, when there's something good that she could have.)

Bashful-amused-fond-agreement, he sends. 

Perhaps I might have some valuable advice for him, he muses, I expect he has many of the same problems Leskil had, which I entirely bypassed due to the nature of my existence. 

Leskil always did have trouble getting across any emotions besides 'determined', 'furious', and 'sullen', and was often short with those who spoke to him. It is different for Stormsinger, who has always communicated primarily through empathic and telepathic projection. 

There is no 'fix' for them, without those abilites, but knowing there are people around who can understand him anyways will likely help. And more, knowing that he is worth the effort of knowing. 

I thought you might. In the morning; we both need to sleep. She taps on the door to her room, a short distinctive sequence that indicates to DZ that it's her, with a guest, and after a moment the droid opens the door.

    I'll be in the clerks' workroom, ma'am, DZ signs, when she takes in the situation.

You don't have to, we're not doing anything.

    - yes ma'am.

You can if you want; it's your choice.

    I'll go, then, ma'am.

All right. She's a little exasperated - remind me to explain droids to you, she sends to Stormsinger. There's a whole lot of context there. She nudges Ilek toward the bed: one sec, I just need to drop my things off. The paper packet and her lightsaber go on the corner of the desk, and she goes to the bed herself.

Stormsinger sends his agreement, to the first, and his curious acknowledgment, to the second, and then turns back to what he was doing, keeping only a bit of attention on the rest of the room. 

Ilek, meanwhile - sits. He watches her set down her things, and his hand goes to his own sword in realisation that he should probably not sleep with it, either. Or his coat. He stands to take the latter off, and untie his blade from his belt, hooking them over one of the bedposts, as he does in his own room. He also slips his shoes off, pushing them under the bed so they're out of the way. 

That done, he sits on the bed again. 

"...Why did she leave?" He asks, of DZ. 

It's - complicated. Her training is to give me privacy, and robots are odd about that.

She sits next to him, takes her shoes off too, and takes his hand again.

He nods, accepting that answer for now - it does seem like a complicated subject, from what Jaim mentioned of it in passing. 

Hand holding. He smiles down at his lap. 

"We should - sleep?" He pushes himself back over the covers, a bit, still holding tight. 

I'm not in a hurry.

Tell me about - things? The war, I suppose.

He nods, settling at her side again. 

How to even start, on the topic of the war? 

Well. "We haven't been winning," he says.

"Everyone knows that. Even the king. He just won't acknowledge it."

They've been in a stalling pattern while they hope and pray for some miracle to turn the war their way. 

"I'm meant to be a general, someday. Like Jaim, and Sais - the king's sister."

"It's..." he looks away, "...I'm good at. Fighting. By myself, or maybe with someone at my back. I'm not so great at... leading."

He lost literally all but one of the first patrol he led on his own. Clearly people shouldn't be putting their lives in his hands. 

Not everyone is. I probably wouldn't be. There are other strengths. She switches which hand she's using to hold his, freeing the near one to wrap around his shoulders and give him a squeeze before she takes her hand back to sign with. If you're assigned someplace that doesn't suit you, it's not your failure, it's your commander's - it's not that you're weak, it's that you're being misused.

He stiffens a bit at the half-hug - and then leans into it, shoulders curling in at the squeeze and her words. 

Jaim wouldn't- but it wasn't Jaim that assigned him here, or expects him to become a General. It's the king.  

That makes sense. 

He nods, "I wouldn't have been in command of that patrol if I weren't expected to lead," he murmurs. "It should have been safe enough, though," he adds, "We were on the opposite side of Kiat territory from the border." 

It was your first like that?

He nods.

"Rotten luck," he murmurs. 

"Or design," he adds after a moment. He is a prince, unfortunately. If there are any Imperial spies at Kiat, he probably makes a tempting target. 

War can be like that, yeah. She pets his upper arm, where her hand falls. I'll have to remember to check for spies soon. But even if not - have you gone over it with your brother, or the commander?

"Jaim's been-" busy. With the invasion. And one of his elites died. Rescuing Ilek from that ambush. 

"I didn't want to bother him," he settles on.

I don't get the impression that he'd mind taking the time, and this is important. But I'm here now, if you want someone to talk to about it. Even if I can't tell you much, just going over it yourself can help you put the pieces together, see if there's really something you could have done differently. Sith train that way - some of us, it's not really consistent from one master to another, but I did.

...He probably should go over it, shouldn't he. He nods. 

Haltingly, he begins, "We were - on the normal patrol route, according to the lieutenant the commander had assigned me to. She put me in command, but Jaim told me to listen to Lieutenant Kion..." 

He explains how they were seemingly ambushed out of nowhere - he thinks the illusion mage might have been there, now, but left after dropping the spell - and how their attackers chased them across Kiat's territory, picking them off until it was just Ilek and Kion. How Kira, who's name he'd only learned afterwards, had drained herself dry casting a haste spell on them so they could stay far enough ahead. How they kept taking hits for him. He knows why they did it, but he hates it. 

"Jaim reached us just a few minutes before you appeared," he tells her, "...And that's everything." 

"I just need to be... obviously stronger," he mutters, "So people will look after themselves instead of me." 

Though, looking back on it... how did they know he'd be leading that patrol in particular? Who would have known, in time to send word to the Imperials?