All the shards we keep stepping on

It felt strange to leave the battle while it was still raging, but here they were, making their way down the beach and into the port. A part of Liam longed to go back, to rage against those who fought the Family; another part of him pitied them, for they had not yet accepted the inevitable. It was better, really, as a friend of the Family. So much less stress. So much more strength. Maybe he could make Maea see - but that was never going to happen in the midst of the chaos at the pool party. So here they were, slowing down and studiously ignoring the curiosity and concern tossed their way as they entered the port. Word would travel quickly, Liam was sure - it always did, with something this big - but for now, there was nothing but calm. When Maea finally paused to look up at him, his gaze raked over her in return, checking for any injuries. When he was satisfied that she seemed unharmed, he nodded. "I'm fine," he said. He was better than fine, actually - stronger than ever, it seemed, and calmer, too. "Are you?" Liam I am the patron saint of lost causes