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+---- Thread: [se] different tomorrows (/showthread.php?tid=7413)
[se] different tomorrows - Deimos - 07-21-2022
Lulls were a rarity, often needing to be carved out of schedules like stone, taken and snagged at the opportunities. Procuring one was another matter, and by the time he’d sought out the solace of a respite, early afternoon emerged, only signified by the alteration of the sun. Sending a note along to Evie, unaware of her latest adventures, the Sword set about the Spartan-esque home in preparation.
Hearth already well stocked and fueled, with the usual unicorn resting in front of it, Belial had made himself a nuisance by resting along the floor of the kitchen, barely avoided as Deimos wandered back and forth over the hardwood. Taking measure of supplies he had available, wrinkling his nose in consideration that they’d have to share some of these portions with other festival-goers, he’d probably overdone it – but residuals would be offered up to fellow soldiers, and then hidden and tucked away for himself.
Oven already prepped and heating, kettle on, the General began contorting and creating molds, cookie cutters, between the palms of his hands.
RE: [se] different tomorrows - Evie - 07-21-2022
After the exhausting landshark fight, Evie had returned home and promptly crashed into bed fully dressed and coated in sand with her shirt still half ripped beneath the winter coat she’d shrugged on for the hike to the Citadel. Morning treats her a little more kindly. After bathing, changing, and stuffing her face, she feels far more human than the night before. When the receptionist drops off the letter from Deimos, she almost feels normal again, and is reminded of the fact that she was quite looking forward to their planned day.
By time she arrives her cheeks are flushed with color from the cold, hair askew and eye bags more pronounced than normal. Somewhere between stiff mannerisms and overt familiarity, the Evergreen knocks and pauses to announce her presence, then opens the door and slips inside when she hears an answering utterance from within. Shucking her outer layers, the herbalist runs her hands through her hair and blows a breath through her lips in noisy prelude to warn him she has much to say. Walking towards the kitchen and putting her hair into a bun along the way, she spares a wave for Zuriel and a fondly amused eye for Belial as she approaches, heading straight for the sink to wash her hands first. [say]“Deimos, you won’t believe the tale I have to tell you.”[/say] Then she pauses, turning over her shoulder to give a small warm smile his way. [say]“Also, hi. Thank you for getting everything ready.”[/say] She wasn’t here just to dump on him after all.
RE: [se] different tomorrows - Deimos - 07-21-2022
Evie churned in like a whirlwind, enough so that he blinked multiple times while leaning over the counter, hand holding a makeshift snowflake mold. He scrutinized in short order, recognizing eye bags, haphazard wakes, and with a routine arch to his brow, there were probably a thousand inquiries lingering on his features or behind his teeth that remained unvoiced. [say]“Hello,”[/say] he snorted, permitting after a moment, before reaching for the kettle as it began to whistle.
[say]“I can only imagine,”[/say] the Sword rumbled in response as he snagged at two mugs and tea, a silent gesture in asking if she wanted any, barely avoiding Belial again as the peryton made no measure to move from the middle of the kitchen floor. Unfortunately used to hearing of friends hurt, marred, wounded, or dead, initial trepidation started along the vestiges of the smile. Seeing as how she was very much alive, the apprehension didn’t need to coil down the length of his spine or around his ribcage, but his eyes were narrowed, sharp, as if waiting for something to fall to pieces again. Still, he tilted his head, pondering the framework before finally permitting the question. [say]“What happened?”[/say]
RE: [se] different tomorrows - Evie - 07-21-2022
Like an eddy around a stone, his solidity is something she moves with and around with ease, accustomed to the rhythm of their friendship even after seasons apart. Drying her hands, the towel is twisted idly even after the skin beneath it is dry, carrying it with her mindlessly as she thinks back on the events of the previous day. A hum of assent is all she needs to confirm she’d like the extra mug he places down, and only then does she set her hands on the counter, towel trapped beneath one hand. Evie can almost feel his worry as it begins to rise, and so she shoots a slightly tired smile his way to stall it a moment more. Her cheek rests against the curve of her own shoulder, arms braced against the counter as she uses the time to stretch out her sore muscles.
[say]“The short version is a small group including myself had to kill a landshark as big as a dragon,”[/say] she chuckles, having no better estimate of size off the top of her head. [say]“We won, no casualties, but it was a close thing - annoyingly so. I don’t know if you’ve ever met him, I only have once, but a man named Darkeye was there. He was badly injured but wouldn’t stop charging in long enough for me to heal him.”[/say] Which had been a vice of terror in her heart, accustomed to always claiming responsibility for those who couldn’t be healed or saved. [say]“But I did get to ride its fin successfully,”[/say] she boasts, expression turning playfully sly and superior.
RE: [se] different tomorrows - Deimos - 07-21-2022
Finished pouring the water, he handed over the mug, mostly so she didn’t destroy the towel, and opted to lean against the other end of the counter, feeling the great burden of a sigh building in his chest.
He wasn’t certain about the layer of his expectations, but given the shaking of his head and the muffling of a snort behind his own drink, it hadn’t been that. Landsharks had seemingly become quite an obtrusive beast as of late, suddenly grateful they’d only seen the singular massive one (and its cohorts), rather than the draconic entity.
The more news delivered though, the more he couldn’t quite contain the volley of laughter beginning to fill the void left by the useless apprehension, not even remotely surprised by the notions of Darkeye. [say]“I am glad you are safe,”[/say] then he paused, clearly trying to stifle the chuckles threatening to unfurl from his lungs. [say]“I do know Darkeye quite well, and none of that shocks me.”[/say] But it would be something to ask the man if he happened upon him again, if only to rankle and tease.
The final statement though drew the mischievous, juvenile grin back out though, another smothered snort volleying through. [say]“I had no idea you were a professional landshark rider.” [/say]
RE: [se] different tomorrows - Evie - 07-21-2022
It’s an embarrassingly successful bait-and-switch, the towel relinquished in favor of the warm mug and its steaming, enticing contents. Evie has always suffered with idle hands. The tea is too fresh to drink without scalding herself, but her fingertips tap a mindless rhythm as her skin warms up. His laughter only encourages the stretch of her smile, which she hides by huffing on the tea to try and cool it down faster.
From the rim she watches as the line of his shoulders slowly relaxes, and his gratitude for her safety fills her with warmth the hot water can’t compare to. His companionship alone has convinced her she made the right choice leaving the Wilds - and then the Grounds. After so long being the only person caring for and about herself, it’s a breath of fresh air. [say]“I even told him at the start not to go too far because I couldn’t heal stupidity from a distance, but it made no difference,”[/say] she laughs, somewhat aggrieved but only mildly so. Darkeye had lived, and that was what mattered.
Her laughter is smothered by a too-early sip that scalds her tongue, making her wince and retreat from the mug with a pinched expression. It smooths back into laughter easily, not smooth enough to consider winking but tipping her cup at him in playful salute instead. [say]“I still have plenty of secrets for you to learn General.”[/say] Leaning her back against the counter, she crosses her legs at the ankles, comfortable and at ease in his space. [say]“I still don’t know how I did it, but I doubt I can top it with anything cooler for as long as I live.”[/say] Though with Caido’s odds, maybe she shouldn’t tempt fate by saying that.
RE: [se] different tomorrows - Deimos - 07-21-2022
Capable of contorting his tea into any temperature he wanted, the monolith savored his drink while she continued, striving once more not to waste any of it by snorting or laughing too fiercely. [say]“He has always been like that. Has a good heart, tries to put it in the right place, but…,”[/say] headstrong, determined, and a bit daft. The fact that the cleric was still alive was a testament to the man either having the most luck or something else watching out over him – perhaps his favored Kor. He wrinkled his nose as his voice trailed off, allowing Evie to fill in the blanks.
Serenely sipping at his tea again, perhaps purposefully loudly to be obnoxious, as the healer was thwarted and scalded by her own, his eyes gave a decidedly boyish arch at her furtive statement, a quirk of his mouth into a subtle smirk. [say]“Oh?”[/say] A degree of challenge and goading lay immersed in there somewhere, narrowing his gaze again into a piercing, pointed juncture; though he couldn’t blame her, considering he was a wall of secrets as well. [say]“Best friends with banshees?”[/say] Rather than continuing on with the quip, he could only shake his head once more, allowing the long locks to drift along his shoulders, remaining in juvenile proportions just the same. [say]“You do not wish to repeat the experience?”[/say]
Finishing his drink well before her, he placed the mug down beside the sink, and then took up the makeshift molds again, toying with the snowflake one in between his fingers. [say]“Did you get any rewards for your heroics?”[/say]
RE: [se] different tomorrows - Evie - 07-22-2022
Evie’s nose wrinkles habitually as she puffs on her tea uselessly, jealously eyeing Deimos’ temperate cup. [say]“Yeah well, I have plenty of ideas on places he can stick things after this whole fiasco,”[/say] she sniffs, affecting an air of threatening irritation that is wholly ruined by the warmth of her expression and the tremble of a withheld smile on the corners of her mouth.
Unable to stand his silent victory, the healer screws her nose up at him directly before turning to pointedly put a little cold water from the sink into her cup to cool it down faster. It would weaken the cup marginally, but it’s already worth it the moment she can safely take her next sip without burning herself. Too occupied with her drink on her lips, Evie waggles her eyebrows at his smirking rebuttal, aware their secrets range in seriousness but choosing to opt for playfulness instead of dwelling on that knowledge. Though she nearly snorts it up her nose in the next second, making her eyes water as she lifts her hand to cover her mouth while she chokes it down, sputtering wet laughter. [say]“Gods, don’t say that or you’re going to jinx it into happening,”[/say] she croaks hoarsely, grinning despite it. [say]“I’m no fighter, you know that. I’d do it again to make sure nobody was hurt, but I wouldn’t volunteer myself if another wanted the glory of the hunt.”[/say] This time her smile is wry, gaze skirting away to the designed cookie cutter in his hands. Even as her power grows, Evie never feels like she’s strong enough, or of the right moxy to be an asset on a battlefield. Not that it stops her from trying to help.
Tea halfway gone now that she can bear to drink it, Evie brightens as she recalls belatedly the trophy taken home. [say]“Yes, actually! We each took a tooth. Massive, and incredibly tough. I have no idea what to do with it though, the forgemaster turned me away when I brought it to him.”[/say] She’ll keep it as a trophy if nothing else she supposes. Setting her mug down with only a sip or two left, the Evergreen pops off from leaning against the counter to move close, visually exploring the implements he made. [say]“These are cute! Want to get started?”[/say] Already her teeth ache eagerly for the sweets to come.
RE: [se] different tomorrows - Deimos - 07-22-2022
Barely withholding the snicker beginning to slide its way along his mouth at the first response, he curbed his concentration into creating a few more molds: all rather cheeky, some blending and fusing into landsharks, banshees, and small, makeshift ningos. He’d prefer the playfulness and mischief well over any other serious adornments; they’d already had enough traumatic, instigating moments in their lives. Solace was difficult to come by in the world of Caido, and carving and sculpting it out for themselves might’ve taken more hours and attempts than dissolving into the perils and pitfalls of the lands surrounding them. Deimos had always learned to take what he could get – though this wasn’t with avaricious claws or predacious urgings. Just repose. Maybe it was easier to crave when the occasions were so rare.
Turning over his shoulder for a second to regard her with his boyish grin, especially at the image of friendly banshees, he tilted his head back when the solemnity started in. [say]“All right. I will not invite you to the next hunt then.”[/say] A pause, pondering over the juvenility of the situation, before diving headlong into it anyway. [say]“Who knows what you would do with blind swamp rats.” [/say]
No words on fighting though; there were enough of them across the void driven and immersed into measures of bloodshed and ruin. Violence and vehemence had been chiseled into him since he was young – and though he trained the willing, he’d certainly never push anyone into conflict. [say]“You know you do not have to be. Go with what you want. What you find suitable.”[/say] And if it was to be healing, or other ventures, then so be it.
Eyes lifting from his small cookie cutter projects, making another in the shape of an ursur, they widened only slightly at the prospects of massive teeth. They’d snagged a few from their own carcasses in the desert, but enough had to be left behind when Sah was injured. His first notions were of a weapon, because of who he was, but remembering and recalling Evie’s roles, the machinations began spinning. [say]“Could be a shield or armor of some sort?”[/say]
Glancing back down at his collection though, narrowing his gaze at cute, his nose wrinkled once more. [say]“Oven is already on. Sugar cookies sound all right?”[/say] Thereafter, he dropped the last form and moved towards the cupboards, removing everything they’d need: flour, baking soda and powder, butter, sugar, an egg, and some portion of vanilla that he’d had to haggle and quibble over for a while, along with bowls, spoons, and cups.
RE: [se] different tomorrows - Evie - 07-26-2022
Her imagination runs wild with her strapped helplessly to it at the leading phrase he hands her, and she can’t hide the laughter that bubbles up behind her grinning teeth. [say]“Stop, if you get my started I’m going to be useless trying to bake,”[/say] she manages to get out between bubbling fits of hushed giggles, envisioning chariots pulled by giant blind rats that swerve and bumble into each other, tangled in their leadlines. Only the quiet foray into seriousness seems to stifle it fully, though her smile is warm and free of any weight or worry in the aftermath. [say]“I know. I’ll never stop training for the worst case scenario, but I know who I am in the end.”[/say] And she always has, even when she had to hide it away. And Deimos, Amalia, Sam…they have all loved her either for it or in spite of it. So why try to force herself into an unnatural mold now of all times?
The prospect of a shield makes her balk at first, envisioning Amalia and all her softhearted, strong-willed glory. Always in the baker’s shadow. But wasn’t that just proof that even healers and bakers and bookmakers could take up arms to keep their loved ones safe? Amalia had abandoned hers, but maybe Evie could take it up instead. [say]“A shield could be a good idea. I’d still be able to use my knives with one too.”[/say] Good thing she and Deimos hadn’t brainstormed a secondary weapon for her yet, now they’d have to change their approach.
Bouncing on her toes to expel her excitement as Deimos grabs the last few items, Evie rolls her sleeves up and flexes her fingers. [say]“Oh, absolutely. If we did chocolate chips we’d never get them into the oven.”[/say] They’ll be eating the dough regardless, of that she has no doubt, but chocolate chip cookie dough would never have made it past the bowl. She begins measuring out the dry ingredients, mixing them with a simple spoon before gesturing to the eggs. [say]“Wanna crack them while I beat them in?”[/say] Though it seems at odds with their normal roles, Evie knows she has a hell of an arm, and that Deimos is more than delicate when the time calls for it.
RE: [se] different tomorrows - Deimos - 07-26-2022
Amplifying, inciting, and goading laughter was a stark preference to casting wakes over haunting refrains – and so the Cheshire grin remained as the warmer sounds echoed along the house. [say]“Please tell me you are not one of those individuals who wants to tame everything.”[/say] Thoughts reeled briefly to Ray and the plight of the squidling, doomed and damned as soon as the pitiful claims had been made. The mental image of the ridiculous, and very large, blind rats meandering around Halo half-wild and rampaging after citizens wouldn’t sit well with him after the first five rounds of amusement. Probably.
The smile didn’t relent thereafter, as notes of seriousness threatened – because he wasn’t going to be tormented, troubled, or beleaguered any longer by the mentions of those who’d cast them out – and had no intention of leaving her amidst that requiem either. The Sword mused and machinated rather than cut his tongue and make mentioning shields a thorn; he was surrounded by them day in and day out. Eyes downcast for a moment, concentrating bending and honing on ensuring the supplies were adequate, he lifted his head back up to meet her gaze. [say]“Is it lightweight or heavy?” [/say]
Rolling up his sleeves once more, his brow arched at her excitement, and the truth of the matter. [say]“Fair,”[/say] came with a lighthearted shrug; not even ashamed. While she measured and mixed the dry proportions, he nodded at the next step, snagging at the eggs, and easily decimating them into cracked fixtures. With manner of precision and meticulousness, they gave way without a single shell stuck to their wares. And then he uncapped the vanilla, permitting a few drops into the concoction, watching her from the corner of his eye, seeing if there’d be an argument about it.
Giving her an opportunity to blend, whip, and beat as she so inclined, Deimos snagged at the flour, distributing it along the countertop and along the molds, ensuring neither would be sticking to one another one, once they started laying the dough out. Some immediately flickered in a decent cloud over his tunic.
RE: [se] different tomorrows - Evie - 07-26-2022
Her scoff is prelude to answer enough, but she shakes her head, momentarily wondering at the lack of hair against her cheeks until she recalls her bun. Admittedly she doesn’t wear one often - too self-conscious about the soft roundness of her cheeks that weight could never diminish, and the healthy dose of freckles over the tops of them - so the lack of drag and flail is startling. [say]“Gods, no! Nature has its own cycles, death is one of them. Sometimes I just…hasten it along,”[/say] she drawls with feigned innocence. Precisely why she is no hunter or soldier, but has no qualms with killing either. Admittedly though, most Grounders had that mentality by virtue of their upbringing.
He is perhaps stronger than she gives him credit for, to dance so close to old wounds perhaps not fearlessly, but intentionally. Refusing to let Amalia’s memory shadow them forever. She follows trepidatiously in his footsteps, his inquiry making her think back to her trophy. [say]“It was incredibly lightweight, almost weightless for its size. But tougher than anything I’ve encountered yet, the forgemaster couldn’t even make a dent in it!”[/say] Which was impressive, especially when most craft masters in Halo were aided by magic.
Evie nods her pleased approval at his choice of extract, the pleasant vanilla aroma that rises making her hum happily, eyelashes fluttering slightly with the urge to bask in it. In the end the temptation for cookies is stronger though, and as Deimos reaches for the flour Evie preps herself for the inevitable arm workout that approaches. Only that isn’t his goal, and as it puffs into the air a laugh startles out of the Evergreen. [say] “Ohhhh no, we definitely should have gotten aprons,”[/say] she manages to eek out between bubbles of laughter.
RE: [se] different tomorrows - Deimos - 07-26-2022
A snort ricocheted through – given his occupation – he often did the same. He didn’t believe in the feigned innocence anyway; he’d seen her in action on more than one occasion. [say]“Of course,”[/say] came along with a smirk embedded along his mouth, as if waiting to prove her wrong simply to be a goading, inciteful juvenile.
His wounds were outward and inward, scars and lacerations and ivory marks cast across skin and bone, flesh and soul, and to pretend they weren’t there was misleading; so he meant to be stronger than them. The ones cast by other blades had never been shirked or shamed. The ones dragged by loved ones were a different matter, like wraiths and phantoms, coating all the beloved memories into ashen plumes. But his head remained resolutely, defiantly, above the surface of the dust and decay, of the waves and the tides, because otherwise he would’ve succumbed long, long ago.
And maybe it was easier now to withstand them, with years of understanding and seasons of worth to recall, remember.
His brows furrowed slightly as his hands became coated in flour, mischief brewing behind his eyes as they centered downcast upon the counter. [say]“Would a god have to craft it then?”[/say] Thinking back to the trophy in his bag hanging over by the wall, or other elements he’d seen but been incapable of mustering his contortions across. And knowing Evie’s sentiments about the deities, he shrugged his shoulders, letting the moment pass without much else, save for his own recent experience. [say]"I have a leviathan scale I intend to utilize for armor,"[/say] by example, jutting his jaw towards where it lay tucked away in the satchel.
Aprons were another thing entirely. The Sword couldn’t recall wearing any (though the same could be said about flower crowns before landing in Caido). Not for when they were butchering their kills, and certainly not in baking. His nose wrinkled, and when his piercing eyes met hers they were already distinctly, intentionally, impish. [say]“Too late,”[/say] and with a brief movement, another puff flickered, though purposefully in her direction.
RE: [se] different tomorrows - Evie - 07-27-2022
Evie is a shrewd woman, but she is also headstrong and as stereotypically fiery as her hair portrays her, and she can’t help the way her eyes narrow into slits of blue to be aimed his way at his - surely feigned - doubt. [say]“I can’t kick your ass, and I know it, but you make me want to try so badly sometimes.”[/say] A huff of a laugh, helpless and unbidden, escapes her as she turns back to their slowly coalescing concoction.
Her helplessly twitching smile fades in some small, dawning horror at the idea that only a God could craft her trophy into something functional. It draws a cold trail down her spine to envision approaching a shrine yet again. [say]“Maybe,”[/say] she says, little more than a whisper. And an idea starts to bud, but she lets it do so at its own speed, because she refuses to let the mire claim her when there is joy to be had here in this little kitchen. So instead of asking what she wants to, she turns her questioning look into something properly aghast. [say]“A leviathan? Please tell me your exaggerating. That’s like…a quantifier for size, not a thing!”[/say] It’s half despair half awe as it explodes out of her mouth. Of course Caido of all places would be the birthing grounds for monsters like leviathans, but her heart skips too many beats envisioning Deimos fighting one. And yes, clearly he won, but it’s terrifying all the same - and it makes her more deeply appreciate the fact that he’s here with her, instead of out there playing hero on a scale she’ll never reach. No matter how she suddenly, sharply wishes she could, if only for the peace of mind of being at his side when he faces monsters like leviathans.
She’s a little too wrapped in her head to see the glint of mischief in his eyes, but the flour is far more unmistakable and difficult to miss. Evie sputters nonsensically as it’s sent her way and clings to her blouse and freckled forearms. [say]“You -!”[/say] she glances down at her busy hands and frowns at the fact her first instinct for revenge is dissuaded. Only…
Vixen smile overtakes her lips, and she reaches with her magic for the eggs in the carton - plucking one free and swiftly levitating it above his head before crushing it gleefully, her giddy laughter a backing track to the gooey disaster she creates in his hair.