Allia reposes on a couch in the viewing lounge, a book open next to her as she looks out over the glistening waters. Her gaze is transfixed, not reacting as footsteps approach from behind.

  “Hey,” Sarrah says, sitting down beside her to look out over the waters. “Nice view.”

  “…Yeah,” Allia half mutters distractedly, not turning to look at her friend.

  Sarrah, sensing something is wrong, turns to look at her friend, startling as she does. “Allia, you’re bleeding!” She quickly runs over to the bar and grabs a napkin, which she applies to her friend's nose.

  “It’s fine,” Allia says, pushing her friend away but keeping the napkin. “It’s probably just the waves.”

  “Motion sickness doesn’t cause nosebleeds, Allia,” Sarrah says, clearly not buying her friend’s lie. “Besides, you’ve been on boats before with no problem, and the waves are mild today.”

  Allia looks away, clearly moody. “It’s fine. Just some blood. It’ll go away in a while.”

  Sarrah places her hands on her hips, clearly not convinced. “It’s not just blood. You’re pale, sweating, your voice is slurred, and I’m guessing you have a splitting headache?” She glares at Allia until she nods in admittance, “All of which are discreteness symptoms. So, what did you do?”

  “…Nothing,” Allia lies, looking out the window to hide her face.

  “Nothing? Allia, I’ve known you for a year now, and I’ve never seen you display discreteness before. So, whatever you did has to be major. Bigger than fighting a fake dragon or an entire demon century.”

  Allia sighs, biting her lip before answering and leaning back into the couch. “I just reversed the flow a bit, that’s all. I’ll be fine.”

  “…I don’t know what that means.”

  “It means just leave me alone for a bit!” Allia snaps.

  Sarrah recoils from the vehemence, but then crosses her arms and leans in again. “I guess we’re adding irritability to the list of symptoms.”

  Allia winces, then stands, shrugging her shoulders as she does. “Whatever. If you’re going to be annoying, then I’m going to my room.”

  “No!” Sarrah says sternly, snapping her hand out to grab Allia’s wrist and pulling her back down to the couch. “You know full well that isolation is the last thing you need to recover from discreteness… however you got it. Sigh…look, just stay here, and I’ll get the doctor, just to be sure you didn’t go too far…somehow.”

  Allia tenses as her friend stands to leave, grabbing her wrist pleadingly in the reverse of the situation only a few seconds ago. “No doctor…please. I’ll stay, just don’t get her.”

  Sarrah gives her friend a sceptical look. “Allia, with your symptoms, you’re well past the point where a random health problem could happen. It’d be reckless not to have her take a look.”

  Allia tenses further, breathing shallowing, her eyes unfocusing as she stares past her friend. “I…I just don’t want her to look at me…Ok?”

  Sarrah gives a pained, trapped look at her friend, but nods. “All right. I won’t get the doctor… Just… stay here for a bit. I’ll get something from my room and then make you a sandwich. It’ll help.”

  Allia nods, then slumps back into the couch. “Thanks… What would I do without you?”

  “…Yeah… what would you?” Sarrah whispers back, in a defeated tone that does not require an answer, then quickly walks out of the room. A minute later, she comes back with a black wooden case, which she sets beside the bar as she makes Allia a quick but large sandwich with some smoked fish, white bread, cheese, tomatoes and olives from the large walk in coldbox, then cuts it in four pieces diagonally.

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  “Thanks,” Allia says, taking a quarter of it from the coffee table Sarrah placed the plate on.

  Sarrah then brings a pair of glasses with fruit juice, which she places in the table’s cup holders before finally sitting down and grabbing a quarter of the sandwich and taking a bite, muttering “Shared aesthetic phenomena can increase connectivity,” as if reciting from a medical text by rote and chewing mechanically.

  After partaking in the phenomena of the sandwich and fruit juice together, Sarrah sets her portion of food back on the plate and opens the wooden case to reveal a silvery flute which she quickly assembles and tunes before launching into a soothing melody.

  Her playing is rigid at first, clearly performed only for its ability to hasten absolution. However, her mind soon seems to drift from her friend’s plight to be more and more immersed in the music, shifting from a soothing song to a hopeful, bright improvisation to match the dancing waves.

  Allia gradually begins to recover; her nosebleed stops, as does her sweating, and some colour returns to her face. Having eaten half the sandwich, she decides to lay down – worming her way across her sofa to rest her head on her friend’s lap.

  Sarrah’s playing is briefly disrupted at the action, but quickly resumes, changing the tune to something lighter.

  “Hey,” Allia says, looking up through her friend’s arms, “thanks for taking care of me, and sorry I snapped at you.”

  Sarrah rolls her eyes, and instead of responding, she shifts the tune again to something moody yet energetic.

  “…Yeah, I get that… Sorry I can’t tell you about it.”

  Sarrah suddenly breaks the song with a forceful trill, feeling like an exasperated sigh. Once done, she seems to decide to ignore her friend and goes back to the light, hopeful music matching the dancing of the waves.

  Allia goes to sleep like this, seeming more recovered by the moment. Sarrah continues to play, shifting between more sombre or soothing tunes to not disturb her friend. A few others come into the lounge, but keep quiet when they see Allia resting.

  Allia wakes an hour later, looking much, but not fully, recovered. She thanks Sarrah and tries to stand, but stumbles as she does.

  “Easy,” Sarrah says, standing to support her, “you need to acclimate to your soul being back in synch with the world – not exactly something made easier on a rocking boat… have you never gone this far before?”

  “…No, I guess I haven’t.”

  “Huh, I guess you really haven’t been pushing yourself as much as I thought. Lucky you… Come on. I’ll help you to your room.” Allia nods and pauses for Sarrah to store her flute, then they amble through the corridors, Sarrah supporting her friend from under the shoulder as if she were a drunk.

  Plopping Allia onto her bed, Sarra sighs and looks over her. “You really won’t tell me about what happened?” Allia silently shakes her head. “Sigh… Can you at least tell me if it’ll happen again?”

  “It’…” Allia hesitates, then takes a stern expression, but one facing away from her friend, before saying confidently, “It shouldn’t.”

  Sarrah twitches her nose in confusion, leaning back hard against the doorway with klang as her head bumps against the metal frame. “But you can’t say for sure?”

  Allia glances down, then questioningly to the side and sighs. “It’s not fully in my control.”

  Sarrah, stunned, opens her mouth but leaves it agape for a few seconds before walking forward and bracing her hand on a metal frame to lean over Allia, her face inches away as she stares directly into her eyes. “What is going on with you, Allia?” she asks in a sort of stern dismay. Allia tries to look away again, but Sararh grabs her chin and forces it back towards hers. “That doesn’t make any sense. It’s your discreteness, Allia; how can it not be under your control?”

  Allia quivers as Sarrah literally holds her gaze, clearly trying to find something to satisfy her friend, but cannot. Unable to look away, she swallows hard with tears leaking down her face. “I’m sorry, but I really can’t tell you that.”

  “Can’t, or won’t?” Sarrah snaps, spinning towards the door.”

  “Can’t!” Allia shouts, pausing Sarrah’s progress towards the door.

  Sarrah sighs, speaking without turning. “Fine… I believe you. I just… you don’t know what it was like seeing you like that, especially when you’re always so strong.”

  “Yeah… I know… wait,” Allia calls out as Sarrah takes another step, causing her to turn back, which in turn causes Allia to wince again. “I just wanted to say thanks for the music; I really liked it. I’ve only heard you practice songs before. Nothing so improvisational. It was really good.”

  Sarrah shrugs, going for a cool look, but showing a faint vibration of warmth at the corner of her mouth. “I guess I was more trying to use the music than have it be pretty. Express my emotions, you know.”

  Allia nods, latching onto the faint warmth. “Well, it was pretty anyways, and I think it helped with absolution better anyways. You know, by connection to you and by you the world…” Allia’s eyes glance timorously under the bed where she stowed a much larger case of the same material and colour as the flute case Sarrah still has on her. “…I kinda want to play with you some. You know, improvising together.”

  Sarrah raises a sceptical eyebrow as she looks around the luxurious-for-a-ship-cabin-but-cramped-for-anyplace-else room. “What? In here? The acoustics would be horrible.”

  Allia smirks. “Wouldn’t that just make it more fun to improvise? To fight the space itself to make something beautiful despite it?”

  Sararh stares blankly at her for several seconds before returning the smirk, the tension of the earlier incident seeming to roll off her shoulders. “…Yeah, I think it might.”