[SE] everything we need

everything i knew is turning into ruins in your shadow

The marketplace glows like a living ember beneath the endless dark of LongNight. Torchlight flickers in coral sconces, casting the stalls and their wares in shifting hues of gold and copper, the warm glow licking against silk and spice, wood and glass. The sea breeze is gentler than usual, carrying the scent of salt and the faint sweetness of fruit past the low murmur of bartering voices.

Remi moves through the narrow paths between the vendors with an absent sort of ease, his fingertips ghosting over woven baskets, polished trinkets, and delicate carvings without much thought. The weight of Deepfrost lingers even here in Torchline, but it’s softer—just enough to cool the air without stealing its warmth entirely. He should have chosen a gift before LongNight had set in, before the world had gone dark and left everything drenched in torchlight, making colours lie.

The silk between his fingers is impossibly smooth, one roll dyed a deep blue, the other a rich green—at least, that’s what Remi assumes. Here, under the torches, everything is cast in copper, the undertones blurred and softened. He huffs a quiet sigh, turning the fabric in his hands, trying and failing to imagine how it would look beneath the sun.

"Hey, sorry—what do you think?" The Bastion's voice is warm, tinged with an easy sort of politeness as he glances toward the nearest shopper—a young woman browsing a stall beside him. "Blue or green? Or does it all look orange to you, too?" He tilts his head slightly, sea-glass eyes flicking toward hers as he offers her a boyish smile.

The torchlight catches in his curls, highlighting the few strands by his temples which have started to go grey. He doesn’t expect much—just a passing thought, a second opinion from someone not burdened by knowing Mateo quite as well as he does. Maybe it’ll make the decision easier. Or maybe he’ll still end up leaving with both.

THE ALCHEMIST

i thought that i'd be ready
but falling isn't steady once you let go

Lyra is shopping, though why she’s left the task until LongNight is beyond even her comprehension. While Torchline in darkness has its own ethereal beauty, she can’t see anything well enough to determine if it would be a good gift for her kids. Of the two, Ella is the harder to shop for, obsessed with fashion as she is. Kieran, at least, she can entertain with something sports-related. Her gift for him is already tucked into a bag on one arm as she browses some silks for something that Ella might like.

If she is surprised by the strange voice that interrupts her shopping to ask her opinion, it doesn’t show; she turns towards the voice with a friendly smile that crinkles the edges of her eyes. ”Shopping for fabric isn’t easy during LongNight,” she says, her own tone lamenting the presence of the sun. ”It’s so hard to tell actual colors.” Still, she reaches out a hand to take hold of the two fabrics the man is considering. ”I think the blue. The green seems a little washed out - but it could just be the light.”

Lyra tilts her head to one side, considering. ”Actually, my daughter might like something like that. Are there any other colors? She’s really into red right now.”

Lyra Abrams

everything i knew is turning into ruins in your shadow

"Not easy at all," Remi agrees with a huff of quiet amusement, letting Lyra take the silks without hesitation. "It feels like a test of faith more than anything. You pick what you think is best and hope it doesn’t turn out to be a completely different shade in the daylight." His lips quirk as she inspects the fabric, his sea-glass eyes watching her with mild curiosity.

At her verdict, he glances at the blue again, fingers skimming absently over the smooth weave. "Blue, then." He nods, though he doesn’t move to put the green back just yet. He could still see Mateo in it, LongNight distortions or not.

Her mention of her daughter draws his attention back to her, and he tilts his head slightly. "She likes red?" he echoes, before casting a glance toward the vendor. "Let’s see what else they have, then." Turning back to the stall, he gestures slightly, inviting the merchant’s attention. "Do you have anything in red?"

The merchant—an older woman with keen eyes and a knowing smirk—gives them both an appraising look before reaching beneath the counter to retrieve another roll of silk. This one unfurls in a deep, vibrant red, though the torchlight makes it difficult to tell whether it leans more toward crimson or rust.

Remi hums thoughtfully, holding it up beside the blue. "What do you think? Better for your daughter, or should we keep searching?" He flicks a glance toward Lyra, and then, because old habits die hard, his lips twitch in a wry, playful smirk. "Though if you ask me, red’s a dangerous choice. My son went through a phase of wearing it all the time, and suddenly he thought he was the most important person in the room wherever he went." His voice is warm, teasing, no real weight behind it. "Not that it was entirely untrue, but still."

THE ALCHEMIST

i thought that i'd be ready
but falling isn't steady once you let go

Perhaps the lighting is a blessing in disguise; if one of their children wants to dress up for LongNight, after all, this would be the environment in which they’d be seen. Lyra still prefers the blue to the green, though; it’s still discernible as blue, in certain flickers of firelight, but the green just looks like a muddy brown to her.

She waits for the merchant to return with something that appears to be red - although the exact hue is up for debate - and accepts it to look over with a word of thanks. As she considers, she listens to the stranger and laughs. ”My daughter doesn’t need red to think that way,” she jokes. ”It’s her default, I’m afraid. She’s quite the drama queen.” And she loves to be the center of attention - hence the red.

Though, truthfully, Lyra isn’t sure she’s ready to see what Ella will make with the bold silk. Probably something that her adopted mother doesn’t approve of, but the girl is getting too old for Lyra to tell her what to do.

Lyra purses her lips as she considers the fabric. It’s hard to tell in the torchlight, but it looks a little warmer than she’d been envisioning. ”Perhaps a different shade?” she wonders aloud. ”I was thinking something more pure red, and this looks a little off, though it could just be the light.” The merchant nods and bustles away to find another shade that she swears will be just the thing.

Lyra Abrams

everything i knew is turning into ruins in your shadow

"Ah, so she doesn’t need the wardrobe to match the attitude—impressive." Remi grins, clearly entertained by Lyra’s description of her daughter. He watches as she inspects the fabric, his own fingers idly brushing over the blue silk he’s still debating, feeling the way the weave shifts under his touch. At her hesitation, he nods toward the merchant as she scurries off, promising a shade that will be just right in that knowing way that all good vendors do.

He shifts his weight slightly, still absently holding onto the green silk as it becomes ever more likely that he'll just go with both for Mateo. "Do you let her pick out her own clothes, or do you still try to steer her in the right direction?" His gaze flickers back to Lyra, mild curiosity threading through his tone. "Not that I imagine there’s much steering to be done, if she’s as headstrong as you say."

THE ALCHEMIST

i thought that i'd be ready
but falling isn't steady once you let go

Lyra grins to think of Ella. The girl has an eye for fashion and enjoys making her own clothes - much to Lyra’s chagrin, given that almost all of them are too tight, too revealing, or both. She wonders sometimes if Ella will ever think back on her choices and regret them, or if she’ll simply embrace Torchline’s fashion sense and stick with doing whatever the hell she wants without any regard for the opinions of others.

She’s fearless, and that’s one of the things Lyra admires most about her.

”I try to give her free rein,” Lyra admits. ”I found early on that with teenagers, it’s far better to pick your battles. And she’s a good kid - if she wants to experiment with her clothes, what’s the harm?” Although Lyra has advised against some things, Ella’s never gone too far. She might toe the line every now and again, but she does well with rules for someone who was adopted as a teenager.

Lyra Abrams

everything i knew is turning into ruins in your shadow

Remi chuckles, the sound warm and wry. "I learned that lesson far too late," he admits, shaking his head as he finally tucks both the blue and green silk into his arms, conceding to the inevitable. "Picking battles, knowing when to let them make their own choices… took me far too long to figure out that sometimes, it's better to just let them be." His lips quirk, something almost bittersweet flickering across his expression, but it’s gone as quickly as it appears.

Straightening, he nods toward the bundle of silk Lyra has chosen, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "I hope she likes what you picked out for her," he says, genuine despite the easy casualness in his tone. "And I appreciate the opinions—turns out, I’m even worse at shopping for gifts in LongNight than I thought."

The marketplace hums around them, the flickering torchlight painting shifting shadows across the stalls and cobbled paths. It’s getting late, and though the festival atmosphere lingers, Remi finds himself feeling the weight of the night settling into his bones.

"Enjoy the rest of your night," he says, offering her one last nod before turning toward the winding paths that lead back toward the docks. The silk is a light weight against his palms, but his thoughts are heavier, lingering on the conversation with Mateo, on the flicker of something sharp and unresolved that still sits between them.

Still, for tonight, it’s enough to make his way home.

~FIN

THE ALCHEMIST

i thought that i'd be ready
but falling isn't steady once you let go