CHULANE
let's set the world on fire
And so he was recognised, and he thanked his stars that the man held him in enough esteem to not simply dismiss him. Instead, he repeated the name, Chulane, and made a statement that wasn't so much an accusation as it was an observation, one that wanted further elaboration - and such explanation would come, but not today, not with everyone else that had to be said. Chulane simply didn't deny it, didn't reject the notion - they were close, Kia his confidant, his most trusted friend, his lover, his strength when he faltered, and he could only hope that he was hers in all regards as well. He nodded, accepting the man's assessment, silently promising to explain further on it when the moment was less filled with heartache and sorrow, with disastrous news and updates.He watched the effects his words had, hating that he had to say them, appreciating the clarification where it was needed from Kia's own words - even in her sorrow, she found a way to support him, to help him, to guide him. He wanted to tell her it was OK to let go, OK to lose her 'composure', OK to cry and rage and lean on him, she didn't have to be strong all the time. But she was determined to be, her words coming even through tears and hiccoughs and sniffles, their meaning clear all the while. He watched as the mountain of a man clung to her, feeling his own sense of protectiveness rise up - he almost wanted to intervene, to step in, but he schooled himself, practiced his patience, knowing that Kia was strong enough to bear it, knowing she needed it as much as Deimos, knowing that it wasn't his time yet to step in, knowing they needed this time, together, just them.
He sighed, and nodded again in agreement with the words of the man. Their safety was something they could both agree to be thankful for, their mutual survival, even if the man hadn't meant to include Chulane in that sentiment. He remained mostly silent, nodding where appropriate, letting them have their moment, swallowing his own emotions down and away - it wasn't his time to feel, it wasn't his moment. After an undefinable amount of time, he softly suggested, words spoken with kindness, with understanding of the weight they carried, the sorrow they were enduring, but also aware that the world must keep turning, and they along with it lest they perish as well. "Let's get these Grounders home," he offered when emotions had settled and stabilised, when it was appropriate to suggest they move on - and he would be there with them, to hold a hand or an embrace, to lean on, to hear their words, to support them as they navigated this new world with fewer familiars faces to greet them when they finally did get home.
we can burn brighter than the sun
