Post

A Reunion

The cell was surprisingly not dirty; it appeared to have been swept at least weekly, and the smells were not near as bad as any of the others. But Rinna was still shackled to the wall like all the other slaves, even if it was in well-made clothes. And he heard no reply either.
Rinna was seemingly asleep as he entered the cell. He went up to her and carefully undid the shackles so that she didn't suddenly drop.
"Rinna?" he said as he did so, "It's me, Zevran, your brother. I'm back."
It was not until he had undone all her shackles and let her safely down that she woke up.
"Uhhh?" she groaned. "Who is this?" she asked sleepily, not recognising the voice; the sound of her voice barely travelled past Zevran's ears, such was its quietness.
"Rinna, it's Zevran, your brother. Remember me?"
"Zev-ran?" A faint memory, but how long ago in the past?
"You remember, don't you? How we used to play knuckleball on the beach in Brakara?"
"Knu-ckle-ball?" The beach hovered into view of her mind’s eye, great sailing ships along the shore, but she had only the faintest memory of a boy playing the game, none of her playing.
“Remember when we went to the street theatre and you heard that woman singing and you said you wanted to sing better than she ever could?” Zevran could feel his eyes welling up; he recalled that memory too well for comfort, he knew what happened next.
“Sing?” The image was clear in her mind too, more than almost any other memory was it a formative memory. “Ye-es, I wanted to sing.” She blinked again, and she saw that man in front of him. It had been a long time, and age had started to take its toll, but she recognised that face. She recalled it from those memories, remembered those eyes. “Zevran? Is that you?” she stammered out quietly.
“Rinna, it is I.” He placed his arms around her.
“You came? For me?” She placed his arms around him.
“Yes.”