[SE] it's so quiet in the world tonight

Sohalia

Your little hand's wrapped around my finger And it's so quiet in the world tonight

It had been about a week since Soh had felt the beginnings of flutterings from within, so faint that at first she'd thought she'd imagined it. And yet, the insistent butterfly that was her daughter continued to flicker, first over here, and then over there, until she could no longer pretend that she didn't feel it. She found herself waiting with bated breath to feel it again, and again, and again, until she was certain that it was real.

Then it only remained to share the feeling with Zavien. She'd kept it to herself, selfishly wanting to see the look of wonder on his face the first time he felt their daughter kick, hoping to keep it a surprise so that she could watch his unbridled joy. That, she felt, would be almost as good as feeling it herself.

LongNight had fallen; there was only darkness outside their windows, broken in the distance by the many bonfires lighting up the beach. There were periodic fireworks lighting the night sky from the parties raging far below, but this high in Haulani, the noise was a distant hum. It was peaceful and quiet here in their little house - something that Soh was grateful for, if only so she didn't have to listen to the incessant festivities that had so entranced her last year.

But everything was different now. She was different now. And here in their home with her boyfriend and their unborn daughter was the only place she wanted to be.

It was hard to tell the time with the all-day, all-night darkness that consumed the world, but she thought it was midafternoon when she rose from a short nap, stretching as she sat up in bed. She wore an overlarge, long-sleeved shirt that hung to mid-thigh, her legs bare as she swung them over the edge of the bed and stood, wobbling slightly with sleep. It was the baby that had woken her, her insistent kicks pulling the Luminary from slumber, and she rested a hand on the place where she could feel the movement as she padded from their bedroom to find Zavien.

Your little eyelids flutter 'cause you're dreamin' So I tuck you in, turn on your favorite night light

Zavien

Fear is pain arising from the anticipation of evil.

Zavien had expected to feel more of a shift when LongNight began, to have his internalized terror take physical form in the darkness around him, for the night to reach out and steal his happiness in whatever way it could, for this joy to be snuffed out along with the rest of the lights. 

He was relieved when it didn't. 

LongNight started without much in terms of fanfare. The Feast of Bells passed, and everyone dispersed quietly to their homes where they tucked in for the next week of darkness - or began their string of revelry. 

Not in the mood for revelry of any kind, Zavien worked through a diligent shiftwork within their home, alternating between checking the entry points and ensuring Soh's health. He'd mapped out the path to the clinic in the dark, prepping a go-bag for any extenuating circumstances, including lights in case the streetlights failed along the way. 

He was a soldier on patrol, verifying latches and various resources at regular intervals as he considered possible scenarios of what could go wrong. His mind was ever attentive to the threats, occasionally flickering to the too-recent image of a vacant face frozen in terror. Alone, he might have stood guard continuously through the week, refusing to sleep for fear of what comes in the night: monsters and nightmares. But with Soh, he'd managed to find some semblance of peace when she was wrapped in his arms, like a bundle of pure light that pushed out the darkness, reminding him that his fears were not reality - that she wasn't Lena. 

Still, his worries were strong and the night dense, and he sometimes found himself stuck in a loop of terror that woke him no matter how close he held Soh. Palms slick with sweat, he'd have to peel himself off her as silently as he could, slipping from the bed in hopes she didn't notice his departure or the racing of his heart against hers. 

This morning(?) had been one of those instances, and Zavien had found himself perched in the kitchen with a hefty cup of ice. He paused to place it along his neck, letting out a sigh to release some of the tension before pouring tea over the cold cubes. Despite the chill of Deepfrost, the ice was a welcome reprieve from the sticky feeling against his skin, and he'd been forced to consider the need to leave to replenish his supply before the week was out. 

Once he'd downed the first glass and done his daily checks of locks and defenses, he spent some time sharpening his weapons (again). It was only once his arsenal shone like moonlight that he rose for a refill, considering if he should find some food just as Soh stepped out of the bedroom. 

His eyes immediately snapped to her, cup poised to scoop ice from the freezer as he looked her over. Zavien didn't move again until he was certain it wasn't panic on her face, dismissing the dark thoughts that had awoken him hours prior. The messy tousle of his hair, the oil stain across his rumpled t-shirt, and the pale shadows in his eyes weren't as easy to dismiss, but he covered them with a smile. "How are you feeling?" he asked, grabbing a second glass to prepare her a drink.

Sohalia

Your little hand's wrapped around my finger And it's so quiet in the world tonight

While Soh had tried to convince Zavien to relax when she could, she knew that it was difficult for him to sit idly during LongNight. If it made him feel better to check the doors and shutters a hundred times, who was she to tell him otherwise? Perhaps, as time went on, he would grow less anxious about the week-long darkness. For his sake, she hoped he would. A certain diligence was to be expected, but the obsessive lock-checking and pacing couldn't be good for his health.

Of course, he wasn't nearly as bad as she'd expected. He did manage to settle with her fairly often, wrapping her tightly in his arms as though he could protect her from the night's potential terrors only when she was there. He even managed some sleep. Sometimes she joined him; others, she lay close, watching as the worry lines in his brow smoothed in slumber.

As she stepped out of the bedroom, Zavien froze where he stood by the refrigerator, looking her over as though expecting her to be in a state of panic. A moment passed; he relaxed, and she crossed the room leisurely to wrap her arms around him - a difficult task given that her bump was now solidly between them. There was nothing better than proximity to make them both feel more at ease, and if she had to live glued to his hip for the week, she would gladly do it if it would help.

Smiling at him, and hoping to chase away some of the darkness shadowing his eyes, Soh leaned her hip against the nearby counter, watching as he poured her a drink. "I'm good," she told him. Then, tilting her head as she took in his tousled hair and messy appearance, she cautiously added, "How are you?"

Your little eyelids flutter 'cause you're dreamin' So I tuck you in, turn on your favorite night light

Zavien

Fear is pain arising from the anticipation of evil.

Scooping the ice, he set the cup aside as she wrapped her arms around him. It was the kind of greeting he always appreciated from her, a physical reminder of her safety beyond the beating pendant on his chest. He folded her into his grasp, enveloping their daughter safely between them where nothing could possibly get to her. 

When Soh pulled away, Zavien could feel the warmth of where she'd been, the gently easing of his tensions, the calming of reality of her. As he turned to prepare their drinks, he ran a hand through his hair in response to her returned question. His first instinct was to dismiss the idea that he might be anything other than fine, but he didn't want to lie to Soh. He didn't want to have to pretend.

The smile came easier with her there, reassuringly warm when he glanced her way. "Rough night, but I'm okay." He wouldn't burden her with the details of it, with what images had plagued him or how long it had taken for the ice to cool his panic. It felt like enough to be honest without needing to worry her further. 

Ice cracked as he filled the glasses with water. "Are you hungry? I was thinking about making some soup." And by 'making some soup,' he meant pouring a can into a pot and heating it up.

A shape moves along the edge of the treeline, half-hidden by shadow and heat shimmer. A Sear Cat slips into view, its sleek body low to the ground as it prowls, muscles rolling beneath scorched fur with every deliberate step.

It does not rush. Instead, it stalks the area with patient precision, pausing to sniff at the air or rake a claw lightly through the sand. Its eyes never stop moving, sharp and alert, as though cataloguing every sound and motion nearby.

After a time, it circles wider, never fully leaving sight, its presence lingering like a threat unspoken. Whether it closes the distance or fades back into cover is left unresolved, its slow prowl continuing just beyond easy reach.

---

Sear Cat Areas Found: Torchline — Uncommon Cousins of the Cat Sith, Sear Cats appear to be large, generally fluffy house cats. However, they are blessed with the ability of limited-speech and precognition and, as such, they are a highly sought after companion - but good luck with that, or getting straight answers. They are cats, after all. They are found most often on ships due to their ability to predict oncoming storms. Challenge Rating: Moderate | Mythical HP: 394 | To Hit: +55 | Dmg: 15 Movement: Walk 40 ft.; Climb 30 ft.; Leap 20 ft. SPECIAL SKILLS Storm Augury: reliably forewarns squalls, gales, and sudden shifts in wind and tide; Chooser, Not Chosen: resists coercion; bonds only with those it deems worthy; Omen Tail: tail-flick patterns and ear angles convey specific warnings once learned by the crew

TRAITS Limited Speech: can manage short, clear phrases and names; Precognitive Whiskers: subtle tells warn of shifting fate and oncoming storms; Sea Legs: sure-footed on rigging, rails, and wet deck planks; Night Eyes: sees cleanly in dim cabins and moonlit seas; Aloof Cunning: offers help on its own terms and only when it pleases ACTIONS Weather Ward: curls up in a specific location and emits a low, thrumming purr that seems to subtly calm seas or steady winds for a short time; Storm Yowl: a rising, eerie call that alerts a ship to imminent rough weather; Rigging Vanish: disappears into ropes and spars, reappearing in a better vantage moments later; Pawed Point: taps or stares fixedly at a chart, line, or horizon feature to indicate danger or opportunity