CHULANE
It was hard to tell whether he lived or worked at the Kraai anymore. Since he had agreed with Weaver, before the world turned to shit, that he would help out there wherever he could, it would seem business at the Kraai only got busier. An influx of temporary refugees would do that, and now with the added need for support and care as people deal with loss, the bar was rarely empty.
Chuy, true to his word, helped wherever he could. Between assisting with the clean-up of the ruined city, whatever errands his landlord still needed completed, and the Kraai, he hardly had time for his writing, often falling into an exhausted pile at the end of the night in his bed, and sleeping soundly until the following morning. Still, keeping his mind busy was the best thing he could do to get through not only the trauma of losing everything and everyone that he knew, but also this new shared trauma. And he would always be able to write then the world was less falling into pieces.
The relief he had felt when he had seen Kiada, alive and relatively unscathed, the night of the disaster, was something he had thought on a lot. He had always made an effort to greet and farewell her with a hug and a light kiss to her forehead or cheek, but found they had had little time to just be - and he missed it.
"Kia," he said warmly one evening at the Kraai, almost as if he was saying goodbye early for the night. But when he pulled her into a hug, he did not let go completely, instead holding onto her hands. "C'mon," he said instead, pulling her over to a table in the corner, where he had arranged with the kitchen staff a special meal already for them to share.
Chuy, true to his word, helped wherever he could. Between assisting with the clean-up of the ruined city, whatever errands his landlord still needed completed, and the Kraai, he hardly had time for his writing, often falling into an exhausted pile at the end of the night in his bed, and sleeping soundly until the following morning. Still, keeping his mind busy was the best thing he could do to get through not only the trauma of losing everything and everyone that he knew, but also this new shared trauma. And he would always be able to write then the world was less falling into pieces.
The relief he had felt when he had seen Kiada, alive and relatively unscathed, the night of the disaster, was something he had thought on a lot. He had always made an effort to greet and farewell her with a hug and a light kiss to her forehead or cheek, but found they had had little time to just be - and he missed it.
"Kia," he said warmly one evening at the Kraai, almost as if he was saying goodbye early for the night. But when he pulled her into a hug, he did not let go completely, instead holding onto her hands. "C'mon," he said instead, pulling her over to a table in the corner, where he had arranged with the kitchen staff a special meal already for them to share.
it is better to know some of the questions
than all of the answers
than all of the answers
