{se} hold the line, your breath, my hand

evie The kind of flawless I wish I could be The greenery she'd started growing with Alys is far from complete, but the risk of erosion and the difficulty of foreign aid making it through the mud to the Citadel gates is enough to force her up from where she has temporarily sat down to cuddle Micah and recharge a little. First, she finds Deimos. Snags him from his task with a pallid face and tired eyes, seeing the same in himself. She has a vague plan to make them sleep after this, so it's integral that he do this with her. She walks silently with her hand in his, as close as she can get until their shoulders brush and their boots strike the earth millimeters from each other. She doesn't have words yet for everything she feels, and everything she has pushed down to deal with later. Right now simply having him back at her side is enough to feel a bit of energy seeping back into her veins even if it's likely psychosomatic. As they walk out of the Citadel gates, she gestures to the swathe of colorful groundcover she'd already planted and her lips twitch in a paroxysm imitating a smile. "Come on. I still have seeds." The bag hangs on her other side, though she doesn't drop Deimos' hand until they've made it to the end of the sprawl of plants, reaching within to hand him a jar before opening her own and sprinkling a few on the muddied ground. A bit of magic and it grows and unfurls, spreading out across the terrain and soaking up water that she directs into its roots or otherwise dissipates into the air. Tiny efforts, but it's all any of them can do.