Even half drunk, his feet remembered that rhythm. Clean. Clear. Methodical. His shoes hit the pavement in perfectly precise time as he tried to clear his head. If he closed his eyes for just a moment, he could almost be back in Ocala. The crisp autumn air was cold, not unlike the oasis at night, and he held a deep breath of that air trying to hold on to that memory… but a car honking in the distance shattered the illusion, and with that sound, all the differences piled up.

His clothes didn't fit him, cut in this eastern style. The air was acrid, faintly tinged with that bitter pall of pollution. Bottled lightning rocketed along so many wires, powerful enough that even he, with barely any training in electromancy, could feel it. And the people! His mind brushed up against so many, so different, so alien in thought and mannerism and culture that he could hardly blame his ancestors for thinking these easterners to be an inferior breed. These people!

One person in particular. His inhibited thoughts slurred back to the warm bed behind him, and the warmer woman he was abandoning. Khaesho's eyes snapped open and he turned west again, hissing in his native tongue under his breath. *Kalokin, get this Quaddamned poison out of my blood.* The spirit complied, quietly for once, and in a few moments, Khaesho felt his thoughts clearing. He continued marching, until a familiar face under a street light caught his eye.

He almost walked past, giving the figure no more than a cursory glance, until his heart leapt in his ribcage and his focus snapped back to that silhouette. He was gone, and he wasn't coming back. Kalokin's pale eyes peered from the shadows now, quietly calling forth. “Where are you going, Vash'Khaesho?"

A malicious growl left Khaesho's throat as he turned his back on the puppet. *You disgrace his memory by wearing that face, Kalokin. I'm going home.* When he went to take another step though, Kalokin was there, in front of him.

“Our mountain is southwards, my Vash, but certainly we have no business so pressing that it cannot wait until tomorrow?" Kalokin's eyes were obscured by cataracts, enough to render any man blind. It was one of those small quirks Khaesho hadn't quite figured out, but he did know that Kalokin never needed eyes to see. He stepped around the imposing figure and continued.

*I didn't say I was going back to the wilderness, back to the handmade hovel. I said I'm going -home-.* He sighed as Kalokin fell in step beside him, perfectly matching his footsteps. *And you weren't fond of English before, your sudden preference for it is as transparent a ploy as ever I've seen.*

“Do you think so little of me, that-“

Khaesho cut him with a venomous hiss. *Name one single solitary time you did anything explicitly for my benefit.* he stopped and turned to face him down, but the phantom didn't even have the common courtesy to look ashamed. *That's what I thought. This afternoon with Shouyousei, misleading me on the potency of the drinks, quietly playing wingman to us both. You want me to get attached because you don't want me to go back, and everything, even you speaking their foreign tongue, is an attempt to keep me from thinking of Ocalla.*

Kalokin's face didn't even twitch, impassive as always. Of course, that wasn't really his face. It was a puppet, masterfully controlled by a flawless puppeteer. Its voice was dry, sardonic. “Indeed. My response to your depression and homesickness was to hatch an elaborate plot to dissuade you from going home. Your happiness didn't enter my considerations at all." It would be hard for most to tell, but after this many years, Khaesho was wise to his quirks.

*Indeed. Are you incapable of doing something just because you care about me? Would my happiness not be enough, does there always need to be some ulterior motive to poison the moment?!?*

“Yes." Those pale orbs darkened, eyes clearing into a gaze hard enough to shatter even the staunchest of beliefs. He pulled his jacket aside, revealing an empty, gaping hole in his ribcage, bones without any flesh, and certainly not a heart. “To use your words, I am incapable of such emotion."

The hostility drained out of Khaesho like water wringed from a sponge. “That's… Kalokin I'm sorry, I-“ he didn't even realize that he'd joined his patron in speaking English.

“Save your breath. Thankfully, I don't have any feelings for you to hurt either."

An uneasy silence passed between them before Khaesho turned back westward, Kalokin again falling in step beside him. “Where is Nikolak anyways?"

“She wanted to observe Shouyousei's dreams. She felt a touch left out, with so much talking and explanation, and wanted to connect to her as best she is able." A few more steps passed between them in silence before Kalokin continued. “Nikko does seem to have grown quite fond of her… surely it wouldn't hurt to stay one more night?"

That was the question, wasn't it? What would it hurt? Khaesho's steps faltered and he sighed, leaning into the nearest building and sliding down to sit there, head in his hands. “You tell me, Kalokin, you're the one with the master plan. Would it hurt for me to stay here? Would it hurt for me to court her? And sure, you think, if she and I don't work out, I can still go back, but ask yourself this, what if something worse happens? What if she actually likes me? What if I decide to stay here, what then? You know as well as I do that starting a family is out of the question, and she would grow old and frail far, far sooner than I do. And that's just the small problems, what of her soul! You saw what I saw, she hungers. She's convinced that she'll be able to channel her spirit some day. Do you really think she'll be satisfied, living with two of the most powerful beings on the planet, unable to cast? Do you think she won't be tempted to try and steal some magic, and then what? No happy ending for her there, certainly."

Khaesho looked up, eyes empty of hope. He'd given that up long ago. “And I can't go back to my cave. I can't live like that Kalokin, I'd rather die and be freed. I need to go -home-. I'll answer for my crimes-“

“And be granted the death you so clearly yearn for. I had hoped that today might instill a fresh hope in you, I'm uncertain how it seems to have had the opposite effect." He looked down, blue eyes still clear, and for just the faintest moment, Khaesho thought he saw the barest trace of compassion. That was impossible though. He knew what Kalokin was.

“I just don't see any path that has her in it. I don't care about your track record with predictions, and I don't care that Nikolak's when she claims she see soulmates. Even if you're both right and we fit together, there's nothing any of us can do that will change what she is, and what I am."

Kalokin sighed and sat down beside him, mirroring his pose. “A wise man does not borrow trouble from the future.."

“But only a fool does not plan for it. Don't think I don't know that phrase, and hasn't anyone ever told you that it's tacky to quote yourself?" He sighed as silence claimed them again. That was something Kalokin had always been good at… he always knew just when to speak, and when to let the silence work for him. Every word placed with elegance and precision.

After a time had passed, he spoke up. “If nothing else, it would be rude for you to vanish like a thief in the night." When Khaesho opened his mouth to protest, he continued. “even if that's what you are. More to the point, any journey should start with a good night's rest. For all my machinations, you know I won't physically try to prevent you from walking the long road west, but any traveler would tell you to start with one last good night's sleep."

He was right. He was always, insufferably right. A few moments more, and his will had broken. He could always leave tomorrow. This was far from the first time Kalokin had used this argument, and it certainly wasn't the first time it had worked. With a sigh, he shuffled up to his feet and turned back, heading east.

Kalokin bounced up behind him and cleared his throat. “Ah, Khaesho, south is that way?" he offered, half a smile tugging at his lips.

“Indeed… but my cave is much too far." A wry grin split Khaesho's face; he was unable to keep from grinning at the absurdity of it all. “and I'll need a bed much closer and much softer if I'm to have that good night's rest."

Kalokin's smirk was the last part of him to dissipate, body dissolving into nothing as he slid back into Khaesho's soul, keeping him company on the comparatively short jog back to Shouyousei.