[SE] don't drop your cool

Zavien

As someone who responds similarly to any kind of praise, Zavien doesn't let his smile get too wide. But even as the stranger shares his tale, there's a sort of admiration in his hidden expression, an approval in the timbre of his voice when he speaks over his shoulder. "That's a brave thing to do for someone so young." And yet, the reason for it isn't lost on him, and Zavien lowers his tone when he adds gently, "I'm sorry you had to go through that."

The topic of Deimos leaving bruises is lighter, one that has him laughing when he takes another step onto a frozen plank. "Sounds about right." The words have barely left his mouth before the bridge is shifting beneath him, a nauseating tilt that sends his stomach into his mouth with a nervous, "Woah." His hands grip the railings, Sol turning to check on his companion with a soft chirp and tilt of his head. The dragon looks down at the bridge, seeming to understand that his own bounding pace might be contributing. His movements are more measured when he turns to lead the way again. 

Once the ice has solidified again, Zavien releases his death grip, straightening slightly to take his next step. A silence hangs after the young man speaks, the advice knocking against the shells of grief and regret he'll always carry. The words echo in the mists like a terrible omen he can't quite shake, one he'd prefer not to dwell on. 

Finally, he places a polite smile on his lips, peeking half over his shoulder to express his understanding. "I'll keep that in mind."

The abrupt change in subject is welcome, his mind latching to the topic like Sol grabbing treats. "Stormbreak," he answers without thought, without considering that it hasn't been true for some time now. Stormbreak had been his city, his home, his heart for so long that he finds it hard to claim anywhere else. But he can't live there now, and his life has changed too much to wallow in what's lost. 

Realizing that he'd paused on the bridge, Zavien clears his throat to take another step. "But I live in Torchline now." He doesn't say more, momentarily caught in the torrent of memories and places that he'd never live again.

The secret of happiness is freedom,
the secret of freedom is courage.

i fell in love with a war

The silence following Icarus' unsolicited advice sends his own stomach sinking and his hand shaking slightly against the clutching of the rope. He senses he's made a grievous misstep, once again reaching out of his station as a lowly soldier into something he doesn't quite understand, the same way he feels whenever he tries to get Deimos to see him as more than just a young soldier untested and untried by the horrors of the world. Because for all his age and inexperience, Icarus has seen blood and death enough for several lifetimes; the burning scars spanning the length of his chest, red and raw in the presence of the dragon up ahead, speak to that. His words echo into the mists, and the man gives him a polite acknowledgement that seems more like a rebuke, and Icarus is more than happy to let the subject drop from his hands into the roiling mists below. 

He regrets the topic change almost instantly though as the man mentions Stormbreak with the quiet tone of grief long-carried and his feet pause on the bridge. He seems whisked away somewhere, somewhere Icarus doesn't know the particulars of but recognizes. There's a familiarity in his longing to return somewhere that doesn't exist, though Icarus' home is people and this man's is a place. He allows the man this moment to himself, but feels a modicum of relief when he seems to return. The end of the bridge is in sight now, just a few steps away from the man in front of him, and Icarus has to stop himself from telling the man to leap for it. He yearns for the solid ground under his feet again. 

"How do you like it there?" He asks mildly, trying not to step on any other conversational danger-zones. "Almost certainly warmer than Halo, I imagine."

Icarus

and nobody told me it ended