Everest
Everest does have the instinctive urge to argue, the quiet, familiar insistence that Isla is extraordinary in ways that have nothing to do with him and that she could have built a life like this with anyone she chose. The thought flickers and fades without ever reaching his mouth. Instead, he smiles and nods, accepting the warmth of her words as a gift rather than something to be corrected, and draws her in a little closer.
"I hadn’t...factored that in," he admits softly at her mention of fire, the corner of his mouth lifting as he recalibrates. "Birch sounds right, then." He nods once more, decision settling comfortably into place. "It smells good, too," he adds, practical even in his fondness, "and it’s a natural detoxifier. It should keep the space clean. Calm." The last word is quieter, meant as much for himself as for their daughter.
At the idea of a driftwood mobile, his expression warms further, already picturing it, light pieces balanced carefully so they turn without knocking, catching air instead of resisting it. "That would be nice," he says, and he means it in the deep, particular way he means things that feel correct. "Perhaps we could work on it together?"
Ever hums gently as his mind moves on to the next step, measurements and sourcing already lining themselves up, and leans down to press a soft kiss to Isla’s forehead before easing away. Carefully, methodically, he begins to gather the wood samples from the floor, stacking them so nothing splinters or tips. As he works, he glances back at her. "How did your conversation with Sunjata go? Was he excited for you?"
"I hadn’t...factored that in," he admits softly at her mention of fire, the corner of his mouth lifting as he recalibrates. "Birch sounds right, then." He nods once more, decision settling comfortably into place. "It smells good, too," he adds, practical even in his fondness, "and it’s a natural detoxifier. It should keep the space clean. Calm." The last word is quieter, meant as much for himself as for their daughter.
At the idea of a driftwood mobile, his expression warms further, already picturing it, light pieces balanced carefully so they turn without knocking, catching air instead of resisting it. "That would be nice," he says, and he means it in the deep, particular way he means things that feel correct. "Perhaps we could work on it together?"
Ever hums gently as his mind moves on to the next step, measurements and sourcing already lining themselves up, and leans down to press a soft kiss to Isla’s forehead before easing away. Carefully, methodically, he begins to gather the wood samples from the floor, stacking them so nothing splinters or tips. As he works, he glances back at her. "How did your conversation with Sunjata go? Was he excited for 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
