Chapter Text
Kaveh dreams of a future he hasn’t seen yet.
His imagination has always been a rather bright entity, creating castles from thin air and providing him with constant inspiration for his newest architectural endeavors.
This, unlike the rest of his mind's creative proposals, doesn’t feel the same.
Here in this dream, Kaveh doesn’t see much, only catching glimpses of the sunlight beaming down on him.
Kaveh does, however, feel. There’s a tingling in his hands, running from the tips of his fingers to his shoulder. They ache, but not in a bad way. They ache in a way of having achieved something meaningful. He smells the dry scent of the desert wafting around him, and a sudden feeling of pride gushes from within. He cannot see what he’s accomplished, but he senses that perhaps it’s something great.
The scene shifts. Shades of cream and sage green paint his eyes. He hears a faint, distant squabbling. A deep voice responds to a rather irritated one…one coming…from him? The noise of vessels clanging in the sink and a smell of a slightly overcooked curry fill the air. Again, Kaveh cannot see, but he discerns something rather familiar. It reminds him of his father and mother when he was a child. There’s a word for something like this…what was it?
Ah yes. The scene cries domestic. He hears a slight pause before quiet laughter fills the air.
Kaveh wakes up with a jolt. He had been asleep at the bar nestled within Lambad’s, the cold wood providing his aching eyes and head with some relief. With ink-stained hands, he feels his cheeks. Upon touching the rough skin, does he remember where he truly is.
Ah. Right.
Lambad glances over at him, sliding a glass of cold water to him. The condensation drips from the glass on to the wood bartop as Kaveh takes the time to place the edge of his glass on to his face.
“Enjoyed your nap?” He says, continuing to finish wiping down the glasses for the day.
Lambad’s is empty, leaving Kaveh to conclude that he’s the final patron for the night.
“I don’t normally let Akademiya students remain out so late, but…I heard about your research thesis…Such a shame you didn’t finish it.” Lambad shoots him a look of pity before resuming.
“Regardless, you should go home soon. Is Faranak not awaiting her son’s return?”
Kaveh sighs at the sound of his mother's name.
“No, she’s on an expedition to Fontaine.” He says, matter-of-factly.
He doesn’t say the fact that he thinks she won’t be coming back anytime soon.
“It’s just me right now.”
“Well that’s alright. You’ll be graduating within a few weeks I presume then? Even without that final thesis, you’ve accumulated quite the number of accolades, Mr. Light of Ksharewar.” Lambad suggests, in an attempt to try to lighten the mood.
Kaveh stiffens at the reminder of his thesis. Right. That.
Echoes of words spoken to hurt ripple through his mind, still bright in his memories.
Sighing, he drinks the water, appreciating how it temporarily washes away the memory.
—-
After thanking Lambad for his hospitality and serving him a generous tip for letting him sleep past closing, Kaveh sets off for the streets of Sumeru.
The cold breeze works wonders for his puffy eyes, and the dead silence brings about a sort of solace within him.
He’s thoughts veer to his nightly chats with his mother, the ones from before his father disappeared. He’d sit out on the deck while his mother nursed a cup of some steaming herbal tea, and Kaveh would be free to ask away.
He’d lie on his mother's lap, staring up at the dark sky. Sometimes he’d ask about the stars, other times he’d ask about her favorite pieces of architecture. His favorite conversations, however, were the ones where he asked Faranak about why she loved his dad.
She’d speak about actions that sounded so inane to a younger him. The way Kaveh’s father cared for her plants like they were his, the way he always made sure to keep extra water at the table since she couldn’t handle spice, or the way that his father always avoided touching Faranak’s desk when he cleaned the house. He just seemed to know her “so well”.
“Don’t all people do that, Mama?” He’d say, rolling his eyes.
His mother would simply smile and respond, “It’s not what they do, my little Ksharewar, it’s why they do it that matters. Your father does these things because he cares for me. My needs and my wants matter to him.”
She’d take a sip of her tea. His father would sneak in from behind, placing a blanket on Faranak’s shoulders. “Here you are.” He’d say, before pressing his lips on Faranak’s and making Kaveh gag. “You guys are so cheesy.” His parents would chuckle, and Kaveh would rearrange himself to give his father some space.
“Aren’t you cold out here?” His father would say, pretending to shiver as an excuse to settle into the bench next to Kaveh and his mother. “I fear it may be a bit too warm now.” Faranak said dryly, a sly smile on her face.
The hanging bench would swing as Kaveh climbed on top of his dad. Little Kaveh would smile, now rather cozy in between his dad's arms, and the three would settle in for another night of star watching until they fell asleep.
(In the months following his father's disappearance, Kaveh noticed that his mother refrained from even sparing a glance at the swinging bench where they’d once sat before. Several years later, the bench had fallen away, overcome by leaf growth and wood decay. He’d only noticed it the day after his mother said goodbye, sitting in the void of an empty house.)
Kaveh rests alone on a bench. He stares up at the lone moon sitting brightly in the sky and wonders. The stars flitter back and forth into focus as his eyes venture deeper into the abyssal night.
It seems he’d lost his direction from his original goals when he’d embarked on that thesis with Alhaitham. He’d missed the point.
For Kaveh, being an architect was more than just about making buildings; it was about reflecting the world onto the human canvas. It was about blending the human vision into the world around them. That’s what had drawn him to Ksharewar in the first place; watching his mother design blueprint after blueprint of stores or homes that seemed to incorporate the world around them seamlessly into their structure. The very brick carried a reflection of the world around, the bright teal tile for the roofing mingling seamlessly with the leaves falling from the trees around them.
(“I really don’t see the value in adding such…extravagance.”
“Of course you don’t, when have you ever appreciated anything beyond it serving its purpose?”
“Still, I think it looks as satisfactory as I’d expect from the Light of Ksharewar.”
“What does that mean?!”)
After arguing tirelessly against someone who vehemently opposed his beliefs for weeks, it seemed like Kaveh had lost his vision for what made him such a good architect in the first place.
After a moment of contemplation, Kaveh pulls out the letter from his pocket, along with a pen. Kaveh would be graduating in a matter of days. After that, he’d only have the salary of a TA to rely on to sustain himself. It wouldn’t hurt to start with something extravagant enough to really get his name out there.
Regarding your idea for building an estate, I’d be glad to take you up on your offer. After my graduation, I can get started. I’ve got a couple of ideas to start with right now, How about calling it Alcazarzeray?