I have this some of the time

Isla

As promised, Isla sends word of her arrival ahead of time, checking in regularly with the captain to ensure that their journey length isn't likely to change - the last thing she wants is to upset the suddenly rigid confines of Ever's expectations. It has been a lot of mental rehearsal for her to remember the aviator as he had been when she had first known him, to remind herself of all the things he is and the things he isn't. Such thoughts make for quite a depressing trip, it's true, but she is at least more prepared when she does arrive at Stormbreak.

Opting not to bring anything with her in case the things Ever likes are completely different now to what they had been only a week or so before, instead Isla makes her way to the Pacifist Plaza with only herself, dressed in a warm coat to ward off the breezy chill of the floating city, her hair braided neatly out of her face. Arriving at the apartment where she's spent no small amount of time (though not nearly as much as in her own home, granted), Isla checks the clock in the square one final time, and finally reaches out to knock.

sooner or later, we all have to wake
and try forgetting everything

flew me to places I've never been

The knock came exactly one minute and forty-three seconds after Everest had begun expecting it. He still flinched.

He stood in the centre of the apartment, not sitting, not pacing—just there, like a placeholder in his own space. Everything had been cleaned, of course. It always was. He didn’t look toward the door as he crossed the floor to open it. He unlocked each of the three latches in sequence—top, bottom, middle—each with a pause, each checked twice before his hand reached the handle. When the door opened, Everest looked... well. Clean. Pressed. He was dressed in pale blue, a button-up shirt and soft grey pants with seams that had been aligned down to the millimetre. But his eyes didn’t settle. They flicked—her coat, the braid, the space behind her shoulder, the stone under her boots—but not her face.

"Hello," he said after a second, stepping aside to let her in.

The apartment was the same, and not. Everything in it had been arranged with a kind of delicate, compulsive reverence. The cushions were aligned, the picture frames straight. Even the teacups were turned so the handles faced the same direction. But there was no warmth to it—not like there used to be.

"I cleared the table," he said, gesturing without looking. "In case you needed space to sit. I didn’t know how long you were staying." His fingers flexed once at his side before smoothing down the front of his shirt. "Do you want water? I already boiled it. In case you wanted tea." A pause, not quite long enough to let her answer. "But you don’t have to. I mean—it’s there if you want."

but now I'm laying on the cold hard ground

Code 100% taken from the queeeeeeen herself, Sky <3

Isla

The ghost of Everest Hart opens the door to greet her and let her inside, and Isla feels her heart start to crack into pieces all over again. Having spent so long wanting to make sure the aviator was comfortable with her presence, she'd entirely neglected to think about whether she would be comfortable in his, and it takes a beat of composure that, luckily, Ever won't see because won't look her in the eye, before she gives him a polite smile. "Hello," she replies, warm and yet somehow distant, as if Ever has taken his place in her mind once again as a patient, if not a painfully familiar one.

Stepping inside with a nod of thanks, she takes in the neurotically clean and tidy space quickly, as if not really seeing it, though the truth is that she's saving the details and changes for after she's gone again and can properly pore over them like a woman in mourning. "I'd like that," she says, of taking a seat at the table. "And tea would be lovely, please. I will stay for an hour, but I may leave sooner than that depending on how you are feeling."

Shrugging out of her coat but not daring to put it on a hook, she glances to Ever to check where it ought to go; only once the matter is settled does she move to the table. "Have you been out at all?" she asks gently. "Or just at home?"

sooner or later, we all have to wake
and try forgetting everything

flew me to places I've never been

Ever didn’t look at her coat, instead, he just pointed toward the rack. "There’s space," he murmured, quietly confident; there was space, because he'd ensured earlier that there would be.

Once she’d settled, he moved to the kitchen. "I haven’t gone out," he said, as he carefully poured the water into the cups already waiting. One had a blue rim; that one was hers. He used to joke that it matched her eyes. Now it was just a system, a habit. "I wrote a list of places I might go, eventually. I ranked them by distance. And noise level."

He didn’t sound embarrassed. He just said it plainly, like any other fact. As he stirred in her sugar—one spoon, counter-clockwise—his fingers trembled slightly, but he didn’t stop. He brought the cup to her, setting it down precisely where the coaster had been angled.

"I still remember where you like to sit," he added quietly.

He didn’t sit across from her. He went to the far side of the table, the corner, and folded his hands neatly in his lap. His gaze dropped to her hands, not her face. "You can leave whenever you like," he said, because he hadn’t known how else to respond to her earlier comment. "I’m alright with whatever you decide." A small pause. "I won’t take it personally."

but now I'm laying on the cold hard ground

Code 100% taken from the queeeeeeen herself, Sky <3

Isla

There is space - Isla just hadn't been certain if it had been made for her or not. (And if that isn't a metaphor for everything happening right now, she doesn't know what is). At least she knows better than to treat this version of Ever as someone willing to make humour, because what he says next could certainly be a joke if she were dealing with the man he'd become under The Family's influence. Instead, she merely offers a quiet smile and a nod. "Perhaps you might also rank them by difficulty in travel," she suggests softly. "Some places may involve routes through other areas."

Only once he has placed the cup - her cup - before her does she reach for it, ensuring his trembling fingers are out of range despite the way she wants to seize his hands, to press desperate kisses to his fingertips and to peel back the layers of ice that have formed over the man she loves. "Thank you," she murmurs, hazarding another smile that he'll never see. "I noticed." What she doesn't say is that this is where she likes to sit precisely because of its trajectory to where Ever had liked to sit, the light dappling perfectly through his curls on the lazy mornings they'd spent at this table.

"I hope you wouldn't take it personally," she murmurs, sipping from her tea without needing to wait for it to cool. "I decided on an hour because that felt like a finite time that wouldn't be overstaying, but neither would it feel like I was trying to get away from you. You don't need to say it for me to know this is stressful for you, Ever. And I don't want to hurt you ever again. So this really is up to you, and I won't take it personally either."

sooner or later, we all have to wake
and try forgetting everything

flew me to places I've never been

Everest nodded—once, shallowly. The way someone might confirm receipt of a message rather than agree with its content.

Ranking places by difficulty. He’d thought of that, too, but hadn’t known how to quantify it. The weather changed. The people changed. He changed. Still, he added her suggestion to the mental list with the sort of automatic efficiency that had once been charming and now was just the way his brain worked again.

"That’s reasonable," he said at last, about the hour. "My mother used to do it for my dad. She said that adding structure to a difficult interaction can reduce anticipatory distress."

His hands stayed folded. The tea sat untouched. There was no visible tremor now, but only because his fingers were locked so tightly together, his knuckles slightly pale. His gaze hovered just below her face, flicking to the steam curling above her cup.

"You’re not hurting me now," he said, too quickly. "I mean, not more than anything else." A pause, then a correction: "That wasn’t meant to be unkind." He exhaled softly through his nose. "I just don’t know how to be the person you remember. I don't think I'm capable of it, and I assume that part of your visit here was at least to see what sort of person I am now." Gods, if he could have met her gaze, he would have. Instead, he considered a scratch in his table he'd never noticed before.

"I know we only had a few interactions prior to my infection." Enough to know what he was like, but perhaps not to realize the truth of what he'd been trying to tell her that day on the shoreline.

but now I'm laying on the cold hard ground

Code 100% taken from the queeeeeeen herself, Sky <3

Isla

"Your mother is probably one of the most intelligent people in Stormbreak, if not Caido," Isla offers freely, suddenly wishing she'd gone to pay a visit to October Hart prior to darkening her son's doorway. Too little too late now, though, just as it had been that day back on the shoreline. Taking another sip of tea before setting her cup back down, Isla lets out a sigh that she forces to drag her shoulders down away from her ears, as if making a conscious effort to work the tension out of her posture.

"I didn't think it was unkind," Isla assures him with a small glance in his direction. "And it makes a lot of sense for you to put it that way. The truth is, though, I came here for no other reason than because I wanted to make sure you were doing better than the day you left, and selfishly, because I missed you." Smoothing out her skirts beneath the table, she drops her gaze to the table as well.

"The only person I want you to be is who you are, right here and right now. Loving you didn't come with strings attached, Ever," she tells him in a quiet voice. "And it may have only been a few times, but we did interact before it. And I still enjoyed being around you." It's only a quick reminder, one that tries hard not to reach too far too fast. "For what it's worth, as well, I still want to find a way to make this right. To get back what was taken away from you."

sooner or later, we all have to wake
and try forgetting everything

flew me to places I've never been

Ever didn’t answer right away. His thumb moved slowly against his knuckles—circular, controlled, like if he kept the motion steady enough, he might stay that way too. "I don’t know if I miss you," he said finally, with quiet precision. His voice didn’t crack; it wasn’t cruel. Just honest. "I know I’m meant to. I know the me from before would have. I just… don’t know if the part of me that could is still here."

His eyes didn’t lift. Instead, he watched the faint condensation from her tea bleed into the wood of the table. "When people lose their memories—permanently, I mean—it doesn’t seem unreasonable for their partners to… leave. No one blames them. It’s not abandonment." He shifted his hands, adjusting them so they folded in the other direction. A blink, slow and deliberate. "So if you wanted to be done with all of this—" all of me "—I would understand. You might have enjoyed your time around me before, but that was not the man you fell in love with." He finally glanced up, not at her eyes, but somewhere near her collarbone.

The quiet lingered, a hum just below the surface, until he added, "Mateo’s been working on a quest for years. Something that would do what the infection did—quiet my mind, make the world bearable."

but now I'm laying on the cold hard ground

Code 100% taken from the queeeeeeen herself, Sky <3

Isla

Swallowing hard, because however much she understands, of course the words hurt to hear, Isla schools herself back into calm and gives him a gentle nod. "I want you to know that if I ever say anything like that, it isn't with the expectation that you'll feel it or say it back. I just know that it can be helpful, to explain how I'm feeling in simple terms, rather than trying to over explain it."

She's about to reach for her tea again when he speaks next, the words enough to make her flinch, and she snatches her hand back and bites at the inside of her cheek until she can trust herself to talk without her voice trembling. She partially succeeds. 

"Ever, you are not something to just be thrown away," Isla nearly whispers. "The man I fell in love with had many of the same traits you do. Kind, clever, articulate. Just because things are difficult it doesn't mean we just pack up and leave. You don't know if I would have fallen in love with this version of you. Because like you said, we only interacted a few times. Give yourself a chance, if this is something you want."

And if it isn't?

Well, that's an entirely different conversation.

The small sliver of hope that fires in her chest is nearly painful, to hear about Mateo's plans, and she raises her eyebrows. "He has? I'll reach out to him. See if he needs any help."

sooner or later, we all have to wake
and try forgetting everything

flew me to places I've never been

Everest nodded—small, mechanical, like it was enough to register what Isla had said without risking any more. Her words didn’t slide off him, but neither did they seem to land where they should. They hovered somewhere just beyond reach, like a language he used to speak but could no longer quite parse. Still, he tried to pay attention to the shapes of the letters and the once-familiar sounds.

"I’m glad you said that," he murmured, the words sounding as if they had taken real effort. "It helps to hear how you feel. Even if I don’t always know what to do with it." His thumb found its familiar rhythm again, tracing over the back of his hand in slow circles.

She flinched, and he noticed. And though he didn’t mention it, his breath changed—shallower, tight with guilt he couldn’t properly name. "I didn’t mean to imply that you would throw me away," he said quietly. "Only that… I understand if this isn’t what you signed up for. I might share traits with the man you knew, but I’m not him. Not really. I’m like a drawing of a starwhale compared to the real thing—some of the lines are the same, but none of it moves the way it’s supposed to." His gaze dropped again.

And then, perhaps to keep the silence from spreading between them too thickly, he offered softly, "It was a Frey quest, I think. I don’t understand all of it, but he’s close."

but now I'm laying on the cold hard ground

Code 100% taken from the queeeeeeen herself, Sky <3

Isla

Nodding - because it's helpful to her, as well, to even hear Ever say something like I'm glad, as if it's proof that some kind of emotion still exists within him, Isla lets out a long, slow breath. "Then I'll keep telling you," she murmurs, clasping her hands in her lap and leaving her tea where it is on the table as though worried she'll knock it over if she reaches for it just yet.

"I know it isn't what I signed up for. But if a skyboat you were piloting crashed and you lost an arm or a leg, I wouldn't have signed up for that either. It doesn't mean I would love you any less." Isla shrugs. "The only thing that matters to me is whether you still want me to be here, in whatever capacity you're able to say so. Because if you don't, I will give you every bit of space you need."

It saddens her more than she can say to hear him compare himself to a sketch of his previous life, and gods, it takes everything in her power not to just close the distance between them. "You don't know how things might end up," she says softly. "You never had a chance to explore a relationship with anyone like this. And whether Mateo was close to finishing this quest or whether he hadn't even gotten it yet, I'd still want to stay."

sooner or later, we all have to wake
and try forgetting everything

flew me to places I've never been

Everest listened, his eyes fixed on a point just to the left of her teacup, as though anchoring himself in the curve of ceramic might keep him from unravelling entirely. Her voice was gentle, the way Isla’s always had been, but now even that gentleness scratched at him like sandpaper—too soft, too kind, too reminiscent of things he couldn’t feel properly anymore.

He didn’t respond right away. His thumb pressed harder into the back of his hand until a small crescent of pink began to bloom. The metaphor about the skyboat and the missing limb was… logical. Meant to be comforting. And maybe, in another life, it would have been.

But now? "I think losing a limb would be easier," he said finally, quiet and flat. "People understand what that means. They know how to help. What to expect. I don’t even know what I need." It wasn’t self-pity. It didn’t sound like despair. Just a kind of distant honesty, like he was reading the weather aloud from a report.

Still, he nodded once, clipped. His hands were still now, resting in his lap like they belonged to someone else. "I won’t stop you from being here," he said, and then hesitated—visibly, painfully—like his thoughts had jammed in the narrow doorway between intention and expression. "It’s just..." He faltered, brow furrowing as if the words had slipped behind some curtain in his mind. "I don’t know how to answer that kind of question anymore. It feels like asking a table if it would be happier if you turned the heat up." He blinked, lips parting as if to clarify, then closing again. "I know I’m supposed to have a feeling. A preference. But all I can think about is whether the legs are even, and if the floorboards are creaking under it."

He looked back at her—almost at her.

but now I'm laying on the cold hard ground

Code 100% taken from the queeeeeeen herself, Sky <3

Isla

She ought to have expected Ever to say something like that, Isla still wincing a little to hear it - that it would be better for him to have lost a limb than for her to have cured him with that lily. Nodding once again and reaching out to wrap her hands around her mug of tea, as if to leech its burning warmth and to find steadiness within it, she can't help but ask, even knowing that the answer is likely going to be another version of I don't know. "Would it not make a difference, if I stayed or if I left?" she asks, glancing back across at him and raising an eyebrow.

He might not be able to say that he wants to be in her presence, but perhaps at least he can gauge whether or not her being there is positive or negative. Either way, with his description - Everest the table - still ringing in her ears, Isla gazes down into the depths of her tea. "There was another reason for my coming here," she says suddenly. "I'd have told you in a letter, of course, if you hadn't wanted to see me, but since I am here... Torchline is going to be able to protect Haulani from all elements of the void - the creatures and The Family, except for Vox's listening ears. I thought you might want to know, in case..."

In case he wanted somewhere to feel safer, even if it means being closer to her.

sooner or later, we all have to wake
and try forgetting everything

flew me to places I've never been

Her question was reasonable—simple, even. It shouldn’t have been hard. A binary. Stay or go. Yes or no. Everest’s mouth opened, but nothing came out at first. He looked at her mug instead of her face, watching her fingers curl around it, and the steam rise in slow, spiralling whorls. "It would change the variables," he said after a moment. Not an answer. Not really. Just a fact stated plainly, like everything else. "The air pressure shifts depending on how many people are in a room. So do the sounds. The scent profile." His brow furrowed, faintly. "The emotional tenor." That last part was said like it was something he'd read in a book and was still unsure he believed.

He rubbed at his temple. The pressure helped, sometimes. "I think… it makes a difference. But I don’t know how to explain it."

And then—Torchline. Haulani. The barrier. It took him a full three seconds to process what she'd said, like the words had to filter through layers of cotton in his mind. His head tilted slightly. That familiar, old clockwork mind stirred. psay["A full barrier?" he echoed, eyes narrowing slightly in thought. It should have excited him. Amazed him. Instead, he simply nodded again, his hands folding tighter in his lap. "It’s good to know." A pause. "Thank you for telling me." He tried to offer a smile—tight, brief, barely a flicker. But it was something.

"Are you telling me because you think I would benefit from being behind it? That I have reason to fear the Family now that I am no longer under their influence?"

but now I'm laying on the cold hard ground

Code 100% taken from the queeeeeeen herself, Sky <3