Boys workin' on empty
Is that the kinda way to face the burning heat?
Is that the kinda way to face the burning heat?
She used my nickname.
She's being subtle.
What if it's a trap?
Such are the thoughts racing through Koa's head as he picks his way through the quiet darkness, into the labyrinthine stone. Anticipation and terror, guilt and need for validation, the temptation to run both toward and away - he's a child being called in by a parent, not sure if he's about to be scolded or praised. Even Pip is quiet and cautious, sensing his trepidation through their bond. She rests upon her bondedmate's shoulders, a low grumble purring against his neck. It's comforting, strengthening, and he clings onto it, trying not to let the hand that holds his lantern shake.
She's one of them. She isn't one of them. She's going to hate me for what happened.
He isn't wearing armor, only a light jacket and dark shorts. No chakram, but the bracers on his wrists and the ring on his finger afford some reassuring sense of defense. They're alone for what feels like eternity but is in truth barely over a minute, creeping through the oppressive dark, hoping not to get turned around. And then, ahead, firelight, and as he steps into it there's the familiar shape of Riya, and---
"Anju." Koa breathes it involuntarily, his voice shaking as months of repressed emotion threaten to spill forth. Collecting himself, he tries to slip his mask back on, to straighten up and reassume the soldier's careful calm. But it's hard, and she's there, and he's just a boy, desperate for the safety of a familiar adult.
She's being subtle.
What if it's a trap?
Such are the thoughts racing through Koa's head as he picks his way through the quiet darkness, into the labyrinthine stone. Anticipation and terror, guilt and need for validation, the temptation to run both toward and away - he's a child being called in by a parent, not sure if he's about to be scolded or praised. Even Pip is quiet and cautious, sensing his trepidation through their bond. She rests upon her bondedmate's shoulders, a low grumble purring against his neck. It's comforting, strengthening, and he clings onto it, trying not to let the hand that holds his lantern shake.
She's one of them. She isn't one of them. She's going to hate me for what happened.
He isn't wearing armor, only a light jacket and dark shorts. No chakram, but the bracers on his wrists and the ring on his finger afford some reassuring sense of defense. They're alone for what feels like eternity but is in truth barely over a minute, creeping through the oppressive dark, hoping not to get turned around. And then, ahead, firelight, and as he steps into it there's the familiar shape of Riya, and---
"Anju." Koa breathes it involuntarily, his voice shaking as months of repressed emotion threaten to spill forth. Collecting himself, he tries to slip his mask back on, to straighten up and reassume the soldier's careful calm. But it's hard, and she's there, and he's just a boy, desperate for the safety of a familiar adult.
Koa Carpenter
I just think about my baby
I'm so full of love I could barely eat
I'm so full of love I could barely eat
