(SE) twist the knife, break my heart, put it back

It isn’t a swift process – it’s a shitty one that distracts him from everything else it seems like. But he’s trying – trying to make strides with it only to find out he’s not quite there yet before plunging head first into the water like a newborn child trying to swim. An internal drowning of memories and everything else involved with them.

He gets what she’s trying to say though, and as his lantern takes shape he offers her a small smile in response after hearing her out. “[say]Thank you Hotaru.[/say]” He rumbles to her, accent perhaps a bit thicker for that – though whether its due to the emotion lingering within his throat and mind that threatens to spill over, or that he doesn’t care to try and hide it, adapt it any further, is up for debate. “[say]I always knew you were a great voice of reason.[/say]” He murmurs to her, glancing to her from above the top of the lantern, a small knowing nod granted to Hotaru for that.

Regardless, he inspects the lantern before sitting back with some hint of pride to the panes of his face. “[say]Mm, well, I think my lantern is finished. How’s yours?[/say]” He asks, tilting his head toward Hotaru and the lantern she’s created.

Trying is all he can ask of himself, and she has likely said it to him enough times to constitute as harassment somewhere in this world. But she is not privy to his thoughts, only his actions. His words. And she gives a surprised laugh at his compliment, the likes of which she hasn't heard. [say]"A voice of reason? I'll have to write that one down, it's certainly the first time I've ever been told that."[/say] But despite the amusement clear in her heterochromatic gaze, there is a quiet understanding that exudes from her, that reaches for his sincerity and acknowledges it and its given weight. He doesn't need to thank her, in her opinion. She knows he would do the same for her. Has done, truly.

He presents the lantern in its final glory, and she casts her artistic gaze critically upon it, and finds it quite beautiful and true to the man Peter had been. What little she'd been afforded to know of him. [say]"It is beautiful."[/say] She can't say whether Peter would like it or not, and so doesn't attempt to say either way. Instead she trails a gentle finger over the copper-tinted glass of her own lantern, and her smile is pained. But it is the kind of pain that comes from draining poison from a wound. It hurts, but it will hurt less when it is done. [say]"Yes...I think it's done."[/say] And she gazes upon it for a few moments more, taking strength in Sunjata's presence and clinging to memories of her lost son to keep them bright and strong within her soul.

- FIN