Everest
Everest lets himself breathe again, the tightness in his chest easing as Isla’s steady presence pulls him back into his body. Her hands around his, the familiar pressure and warmth, settle something deep and instinctive; it isn’t medical technique that reaches him, but trust, built quietly over time and reinforced now when he needs it most. He exhales, slow and deliberate, shoulders lowering as the noise in his head softens to something he can sort through.
He nods, already shifting his weight as if momentum alone might help, the urge to do rising sharp and immediate. Going to the docks, lifting crates, unloading skyships, those are actions with edges and purpose, things his hands understand. But when Isla clasps his hand between both of hers, he stills, the impulse arrested mid-step. His gaze drops to her, really looks at her, and the room steadies around that single point. Stormbreak still looms in his mind, heavy and frightening, but the idea of being there with his parents—of helping them pack, carrying their things, guiding them down from the sky—brings a strange, unexpected calm. It’s something tangible. It makes sense. He nods again, slower this time. "Yes," he says quietly. "That...that’s a good start." The words feel solid once spoken.
"I can help Mateo too," he adds after a moment, practicality threading its way back in. "If he needs it. With the shop, or moving things." Then his expression tightens, conflicted, and he gives a small shake of his head. His eyes drift down to Isla's belly, round and unmistakable now, before lifting back to her face. "I don’t like the idea of leaving you, though," he admits softly. "Either of you."
He nods, already shifting his weight as if momentum alone might help, the urge to do rising sharp and immediate. Going to the docks, lifting crates, unloading skyships, those are actions with edges and purpose, things his hands understand. But when Isla clasps his hand between both of hers, he stills, the impulse arrested mid-step. His gaze drops to her, really looks at her, and the room steadies around that single point. Stormbreak still looms in his mind, heavy and frightening, but the idea of being there with his parents—of helping them pack, carrying their things, guiding them down from the sky—brings a strange, unexpected calm. It’s something tangible. It makes sense. He nods again, slower this time. "Yes," he says quietly. "That...that’s a good start." The words feel solid once spoken.
"I can help Mateo too," he adds after a moment, practicality threading its way back in. "If he needs it. With the shop, or moving things." Then his expression tightens, conflicted, and he gives a small shake of his head. His eyes drift down to Isla's belly, round and unmistakable now, before lifting back to her face. "I don’t like the idea of leaving you, though," he admits softly. "Either of you."
even if i had to lose you to know you,
i'd still be that temporary phase that you grow through
i'd still be that temporary phase that you grow through
