Aestrea Against The World (VIII)

The moon was full... and beautiful was ever.

And under it, Aestrea sat alone atop the cliffside that overlooked the entire camp, his back resting against a smooth boulder, the glow of his crimson eyes dimmed to a tired flicker.

Below, the torches of the military tents danced like distant fireflies, and the faint hum of patrol footsteps drifted through the cold night air.

"Haaah..."

He exhaled slowly, watching the fog of his breath fade. He was a little tired, not physically or mentally... at least, that was Aestrea thinks.

"...You're restless again."

The voice was familiar as Aestrea had shared a meal with him just a hour ago.

"Derek..."

Nodding slightly, Derek sat down beside him, holding a bottle of warmed fruit wine.

He passed it to Aestrea without a word.

The silver-haired boy took it, and took a sip quietly.

No one spoke for a while.

The stars shone silently above.

And then...