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This was the part that always made Sunder uneasy–the transition from movement to stillness. She was comfortable traveling, and although she preferred adventuring, her competence had made her integral parts of communities before. But it was those weeks in between the two that got her. When she couldn’t be sure if the ground would shift under her feet, when her back still ached from weeks of carrying any possessions she had left, when she still looked instinctively over her shoulder and then felt a pang of guilt for doing so.
The state of the Last University certainly didn’t inspire confidence. Sunder could tell at first glance that this was not a solid alliance, but a fractured group huddling together out of necessity. She wasn’t surprised to learn that some of the original founders had already left–but she was surprised to learn that they had been the snow elves from Auniq. She had studied Throndir’s expression as Ephrim relayed this news to her and Stornras. He’d certainly gotten better at controlling the emotions on his face since they’d last met. Better, but not perfect. But wounds like that never went away, and growth was always admirable.
And being back at the University after time away (and what strange times it had been) was difficult. The grounds felt familiar, and yet Sunder kept losing her way. Most buildings were still standing, at least somewhat, but the blanket of snow covering everything and the bright dome of starstuff overhead turned the place into a white void. It made her doubt her muscle memory, uncertainty sending her in circles.
Each building had new purposes now. Dormitories were filled with Velasian children instead of college freshmen. A friend’s office now stored Ordennan arms. It had taken her a few days to work up the courage to see what had been made of her own former office, only to find that the large pine she used to eat lunch under had crashed through her window. Some time ago, it looked like, and it had been left unrepaired. More birds and rabbits were making use of the space now than any people had for a while.
No one had had time to fix the window, and Sunder didn’t have time to be heartbroken about it now.
What did help some was Uklan. Working together again, having someone around who understood you without words, hell, even just seeing his face again after three years. His ramblings and convoluted notes that even Sunder only half-understood should have felt more confusing, but the two of them having a puzzle to solve felt like home.
In the past, another thing that had helped make a new place feel concrete had been establishing a routine. This time, Sunder had been accomplishing this by pulling on her coat, gloves, and boots and walking the perimeter. It started as a way to jog her memory, to see what was still standing from her past studies here. But as she explored, the purpose morphed, forcing herself to be seen and allowing herself to clear her head after working through problem after problem. After a couple weeks, she had settled on a favorite path to walk, one that passed by Windell Hall, the first lecture hall she’d ever taken a class in. These days, it had been converted to a chapel. And while Sunder as a rule did not attend any religious services, she’d chosen this path intentionally.
Sunder sat down on a cold stone bench outside the hall, tilting her head back against the bricks. She watched her breath in the frigid air for a moment before closing her eyes. The pathway was quiet, and from here, she could always hear Rosana speaking inside. Her talks landed somewhere between reverend and theology professor and concerned citizen. Sunder took another deep breath. Rosana’s words always felt steadying, balancing the line between smart and kind that Sunder could never quite seem to get right. And even now, when Sunder was the furthest from god-worshiping that she’d ever been, listening to Rosana talk about Samothes brought a clarity that nobody else here seemed to have.
Sometimes Sunder would sit and read, letting her voice wash over her as if it were music playing in a Rosemerrow cafe. Other times, when Rosana’s analysis of scripture contradicted her gained knowledge from exploration, she’d take notes, fully intending to follow up on them later but never having the time or nerve to. Today, all Sunder wanted to do was listen. She pulled a cigarette and a match out of a pouch attached to her belt. The cigarettes these days were a little leaner than she’d like, but hey, everyone was making do. She struck the match against the bench to light it and took a drag, listening to Rosana lead a debate about just how metaphorical a passage about Samothes and Samot’s war was.
She could remember how to do this. How to be in one place. How to reenter society instead of retreating into her tent every night.
For the first time all day, her mind was blissfully quiet. Sunder started to relax, tuning out her anxieties and the complications with the sword and the harsh starstuff overhead. Her only indicator for the passage of time was the dwindling cigarette, but she was tuning that out too. That was one of the benefits of staying in one place, she recalled. Not needing to be hypervigilant. There was a certain safety in sameness that she always forgot the value of while on the road.
“Sunder.”
She sat up sharply, regaining focus on her surroundings. She’d lingered longer than she should have, and now Rosana’s class was over. Her students chattered as they wandered out, a sound that sent pangs of nostalgia to Sunder’s stomach. Walking opposite them, towards her, was Rosana herself. She smiled at Sunder from underneath her hastily-wrapped shawl.
Sunder adjusted herself, standing to meet her. “Rosana, hi.”
“Good to see you outside of those tense meetings.”
“Yeah, just getting some air. You’re, uh, teaching theology classes, right?”
“Something like that. Maybe not as academic as these halls are used to, but, it’s something. I know it may seem trivial, but I–”
“Oh, I don’t think it’s trivial at all. I don’t think I can call myself a fan of Samothes, exactly, but the study is definitely worthwhile. Especially for folks here, it seems.”
“I’m just doing what I can. Those who have stepped up as leaders, they’re all worried about either what’s happening right this minute or–” Rosana hesitated. “Something that may never come.”
“If you’re speaking about the sword, Rosana, I promise you, Uklan is a talented magician–”
“I’m not doubting you or your friend.” She gave Sunder a sad-eyed smile. “But I spent a long time grieving Hadrian. If it doesn’t work… I can’t let hope destroy me now.” She sighed. “What I mean to say is, there is more work in creating a community than building houses or hunting deer. And I’m not particularly good at either of those anyway. So I try to give people a space to think, to talk.”
“That’s good. It’s needed, really. And I can’t see our prince or our general doing that.”
“Everyone is doing their best,” Rosana said, more diplomatic than Sunder would have put it. Those doubts must have poked through her thoughts to her face, because she added, “I really believe that.”
“I… admire your optimism in the face of adversity.”
Rosana laughed at her. “You adventurer types. Too jaded for your own good. Maybe making something here instead of searching for it will be a worthwhile change for you.”
“I’ve found value in both, over the years. And speaking of making something, I need to get back to making our friends reappear.” Sunder turned to leave.
“Wait.” Rosana reached out, fingertips grazing her elbow. “I’m glad you’re here, Sunder. You’re always welcome to join us inside, you know.” Rosana’s eyes flicked down to Sunder’s hand, thankfully missing her blush. “And stop smoking. It’s bad for you.”
“It’s a little late for that,” Sunder smirked. “I’ll see you around.”
“You know where to find me,” she called as Sunder walked away, snow crunching against cobblestone under her feet. Stillness and community. The benefits were coming back to her now.