I think I can manage being collateral damage
Everest wasn’t pacing.
Not exactly.
The movements were subtle, controlled—checking his pocket watch, adjusting his gloves, brushing an invisible speck of dust from the sleeve of his jacket. Small, efficient gestures that betrayed no real concern, only an awareness of time slipping out of alignment.
His flight to the Greatwood was behind schedule. Not by much—yet—but enough that he was already mapping out the consequences in his mind. A late departure meant a later arrival, which meant offloading supplies in dimmer light, which meant ground transport would be slowed, which meant the return flight would have to compensate—
Ever inhaled through his nose, slow and measured, pressing the pocket watch closed with a soft snick. Fine. There was nothing to be done about it now. He just needed to wait. And waiting—without an active task to focus on—had never been something he was particularly good at.
So, naturally, he found one.
The merchant’s stall wasn’t anything remarkable, just a small setup near the edge of the skyport, offering tea, small pastries, a few dried fruits in neat little wrapped parcels. Everest had passed it countless times but rarely stopped—flying didn’t leave much room for leisurely snacks. Still. Something to do. Stepping up to the counter, he exchanged a few coins for a cup of steaming black tea—no sweeteners, nothing added, just dark and straightforward. The warmth seeped through the ceramic as he wrapped his fingers around it, letting the heat ground him, even as he had no real interest in actually drinking it.
Not exactly.
The movements were subtle, controlled—checking his pocket watch, adjusting his gloves, brushing an invisible speck of dust from the sleeve of his jacket. Small, efficient gestures that betrayed no real concern, only an awareness of time slipping out of alignment.
His flight to the Greatwood was behind schedule. Not by much—yet—but enough that he was already mapping out the consequences in his mind. A late departure meant a later arrival, which meant offloading supplies in dimmer light, which meant ground transport would be slowed, which meant the return flight would have to compensate—
Ever inhaled through his nose, slow and measured, pressing the pocket watch closed with a soft snick. Fine. There was nothing to be done about it now. He just needed to wait. And waiting—without an active task to focus on—had never been something he was particularly good at.
So, naturally, he found one.
The merchant’s stall wasn’t anything remarkable, just a small setup near the edge of the skyport, offering tea, small pastries, a few dried fruits in neat little wrapped parcels. Everest had passed it countless times but rarely stopped—flying didn’t leave much room for leisurely snacks. Still. Something to do. Stepping up to the counter, he exchanged a few coins for a cup of steaming black tea—no sweeteners, nothing added, just dark and straightforward. The warmth seeped through the ceramic as he wrapped his fingers around it, letting the heat ground him, even as he had no real interest in actually drinking it.
Even if I had to lose you to know you I'd still be that temporary phase that you grow through
