The morning of Leavetaking broke beautifully but bleakly. The cobblers, the steelsmiths, most of the quartermasters, and the men of VI, XII, and XIV Legions had left days before; camp had been broken in the dark hours, with Flame and Wind used to erase all trace of the men and women who'd lived there for months; the Magister and Magistra had set out an hour before in the general direction of the Academy, to gather up their other children from whichever Family had taken their charge, with Derasos clearly more protective of Leirola than when they'd arrived and his wife making a show of her exasperation but never pushing him away; and the morning sun had broken across the Teeth of Creation.
And on that beautiful and bleak morning, Kamiéra (restored to First with a weary, "I cannot punish you for what none of you realize you've done") stepped forward to take Leave of the First of the Blademagi and carefully kept the grimace from her face. "Malamo," he said, extending his hand to grasp the Blademage's wrist.
"Kamiéra," the thrice-cursed block of muscle replied, bowing formally (which was not part of this ritual) before taking the Witchspear's wrist in his hand. "Fair parting, and may the Father and Mother guide you safely home."
"Warm parting, and may the Mother and Father watch over you," Kamiéra replied as the Common Texts ordained. A pause, and then he realized they'd both failed to let go of each other's arms. Based on the very slight widening of his eyes, Malamo reached the same conclusion at basically the same instant. They hurriedly let go and signaled their respective groups to begin the leagues-long run home. Tes Called the Witchspears and Joran -- apparently now Second -- did whatever passed for the same among Flame-Gifted, as the Blademagi turned in perfect harmony and set off.
"Your babies will be foul-tempered, Kamié," Madrigel managed to wait almost a whole league before calling out.
This early in the run, Kamiéra was neither lost in his thoughts nor tickled by almost-memories that only came close to surfacing in moments of extreme tedium these days. The question was nevertheless so surprising that he almost tripped. His lips began to form a "what" sound when Amaso chimed in.
"Should one of us carry a request to your Family that your bond be given to Kelsra?"
Kamiéra felt his cheeks flush. Llaha, and of course it would be Llaha, yelled up, "Request?! We should tell them it's already been given!" Yiliain, taking advantage of being outside of arm's reach, yelled out, "Maybe we should tell them an heir is already on the way!" Hooting and laughter spread from First Company outward.
Before Kamiéra could try to get the situation under control, Tesliain began to Sing the tale of a beautiful Witchspear being seduced by a handsome Blademage while walking a sentry line. As she did, the image of the Witchspear in their heads changed from a non-descript blonde female shape into Kamiéra's dark hair sitting over a face that worked its way between rapture and scowling, and the dark hair and fair skin of the Blademage shape became the blonde hair and dark skin of a scowling Malamo.
The laughter got worse as the Malamo image swept the Kamiéra image off his feet, and the Witchspear punched the Blademage in the neck before leaning in for a passionate kiss.
"Be at ease, Kamiéra," Jaira yelled, sympathetically. "They're just jealous: Most of us won't meet our future husband while Dancing against him." She cackled and fell back in the ranks as quickly as she could.
Kamiéra resolved to offer all of this mockery up to the Mother in the hope it would go away. Of necessity, he continued this resolution all the way back to the Academy.
