No better version of me I could pretend to be tonight
With Pip on his shoulder and a sword at his side, the young man cuts a striking picture, made even more notable by the uncharacteristic severity of his expression. Indeed, he does not even smile as he greets those he knows, nodding to Mateo and Everest as he passes them by on his way to the slightly less crowded shore. Flora is there, resplendent as ever, and though Koa does give her an appreciative glance, he can't bring himself to make any sort of flirtatious quips tonight.
Tonight belongs to his grief.
Koa is dressed in Dragoon fatigues - not because he's on duty, but because it seems like the right thing to do. He's here for his mother after all, a decorated soldier and the reason why Koa has become the man he is. The glass-and-copper lantern that he carries with him sways in the breeze as he holds it aloft; from his shoulder, Pip sings forth a mote of flame, lighting tribute to a woman she will never know.
Together they place the light on a reed ship, watching in solemn contemplation as it drifts out to join its brethren. Again he glances at Flora, wishing he could say something through the grief that clogs his throat and leadens his tongue. If only his father could have come, or Noe was here, or Anju would appear. Despite his dedication to her honor, Koa feels himself a poor tribute to the mother in who's shadow he will always stand, carrying on a legacy he can't hope to fulfil.
Koa made a lantern for his mother in: (SE) never really had a way with words
Tonight belongs to his grief.
Koa is dressed in Dragoon fatigues - not because he's on duty, but because it seems like the right thing to do. He's here for his mother after all, a decorated soldier and the reason why Koa has become the man he is. The glass-and-copper lantern that he carries with him sways in the breeze as he holds it aloft; from his shoulder, Pip sings forth a mote of flame, lighting tribute to a woman she will never know.
Together they place the light on a reed ship, watching in solemn contemplation as it drifts out to join its brethren. Again he glances at Flora, wishing he could say something through the grief that clogs his throat and leadens his tongue. If only his father could have come, or Noe was here, or Anju would appear. Despite his dedication to her honor, Koa feels himself a poor tribute to the mother in who's shadow he will always stand, carrying on a legacy he can't hope to fulfil.
Koa made a lantern for his mother in: (SE) never really had a way with words
Koa
