shut up, you know that I love you

Isla

Time seems to melt by during Longheat in Torchline. The beaming, bright days blur into hot nights until everything is sun-soaked and muddled, and before Isla knows it, she's pregnant. Not that she wasn't before, you understand, but now it's the sort of condition that can't be hidden by a flattering dress or a tote bag; now it's something people notice, something she's had to explain to the medical clinic. It's something that feels increasingly imminent in a way she both is and isn't prepared to face. 

It's (naturally) always a low hum in the back of her mind regardless of what she's doing, but as she climbs the steps up to the apartment she shares with Ever - and when were there so many steps and why are they so steep, for that matter? - the arrival of their child isn't what has her attention, despite the small brown envelope she holds in her hand. 

"Ever?" Isla calls as she opens the door, brow furrowed, a stray curl slipping from its braid to fall into her face. "Have... did you see the Notice Board? About Stormbreak...?" Either he has and it's already panic stations, or he hasn't and she's about to ruin his day.

I'll take a bruise, I know you're worth it
When you hit me, hit me hard

Everest

Everest is sitting on the floor when the door opens, knees drawn in close so the angles of him take up as little space as possible amid the careful sprawl of materials. There are narrow planks laid side by side, each one labelled in his small, precise handwriting—cedar, driftwood, pale birch salvaged from the coast—along with a notebook opened to a page dense with measurements, grain patterns, and notes about weight and flexibility. The apartment smells faintly of salt and sawdust, a comforting combination he’s been quietly cataloguing as he works on finding the optimal wood to build a crib from.

At the sound of Isla’s voice, he looks up immediately. The notebook is set aside without ceremony, pencil tucked neatly between its pages, and he is on his feet in one smooth motion, already reaching for her bag before he has quite thought about it. Helping is instinctive, grounding, a way to put his hands somewhere useful. "I’ve got it," he says softly, warmth flickering across his face at the sight of her even before he fully registers the tension riding her voice. The way she says his name makes him pause, though, and his movements slow by a fraction as he takes the bag from her with care, setting it down where it won’t tip or slide.

He tilts his head to the side, the familiar angle that means he is listening harder than usual, processing not just the words but the weight behind them. "No," he says after a moment, shaking his head. "I haven't make it into town today." His brow creases, attention narrowing, the room and the city beyond it momentarily receding, his focus entirely on Isla. "What about the Notice Board?"

even if i had to lose you to know you,
i'd still be that temporary phase that you grow through

Isla

"Oh - thank you," Isla says softly, surrendering her bag and absently placing the envelope down on the counter as Ever approaches. As soon as his hands are free again she's reaching for one of them, fingers closing around his own as if to offer something further grounding; she hasn't realised it, but it's the exact sort of thing doctors do when preparing to deliver bad news. "It was from Kaisel, on Flora's behalf," she explains of the notice. "It said that Stormbreak is suffering from a structural failure - that's what the quakes must have been about - and that it's expected to... to fall into the sea."

The Remedy still sounds vaguely puzzled about it herself, like she can't truly fathom something like that happening to an entire region, and hormones have meant that she's not as sharp as usual besides. Giving Ever's hand a squeeze, Isla blinks back to herself so she can add the other important information. "There's time for evacuation, of course. Torchline is preparing to take in as many people as we can, and I expect Mateo will be flying down. Your parents, too."

I'll take a bruise, I know you're worth it
When you hit me, hit me hard

Everest

Everest’s fingers curl more fully around Isla’s hand as she speaks, warmth answering warmth, his thumb resting where her pulse moves beneath the skin. He blinks once, then again, slow and patient, eyes fixed on her face as if that alone might keep the words from slipping sideways in his mind.

Stormbreak. Structural failure. Fall into the sea.

He doesn’t move. Not because he is calm, but because something inside him has already dropped away, a long, silent descent that pulls memory and sensation down with it. His chest tightens, breath shallow but steady, the room around them going oddly distant at the edges. "Mateo...mentioned the quakes," he says, and his voice sounds far off even to himself, like it has travelled a long way to reach his mouth. "He was worried about the shop. About the—" He trails off, the sentence losing its shape as it fails to find a useful end.

It’s only when Isla mentions his parents that the fall stops short. Everest’s focus snaps back with almost painful clarity, blue eyes widening as he looks at her properly, really sees her standing there in front of him, solid and real and holding his hand. His grip tightens, not enough to hurt, but enough to anchor himself to the present. "My parents," he repeats, softer now, as if saying it carefully might keep something terrible from happening. His thoughts scatter, trying to line themselves up into something actionable and failing, the information too large, too many variables at once. He swallows, shoulders drawing in slightly. "I—" He pauses, breath catching, then forces it out slowly through his nose, deliberate, measured. Panic would help no one, least of all Isla. Not like this.

"I don’t...know what I’m supposed to do," he admits quietly, honesty winning out over any pretense of certainty. His thumb rubs a small, repetitive circle against the side of her hand as he tries to sort through it all, clinging to the contact while his mind works to find firmer ground. "What do we do?"

even if i had to lose you to know you,
i'd still be that temporary phase that you grow through

Isla

If Isla had thought ahead she might have considered asking Ever to stay sitting down, but here they are unfortunately, the Remedy squeezing his fingers back as if to hold him steady, to stop him from drifting too far away from where they stand. "It's okay not to know," she says gently. "I don't think anyone is expecting you to have answers. It... it's a lot, for everyone." For all those in Stormbreak about to be uprooted, for family and friends of those people, and for Ever who isn't just part of that second category, but someone who grew up in the region. 

"The notice suggested stocking up on healing water and basic medical supplies, which we already have in good numbers down at the clinic. It also suggested preparing temporary shelters, and helping to unload skyships when they start to arrive." But Ever had asked what they should do, and Isla reaches up to clasp his hand between both of hers. "I think you should go and help your parents move from Stormbreak down here to Torchline," she says honestly. "We can send them a letter, and I can arrange a place for them to stay down here. Does that seem like a good start?"

I'll take a bruise, I know you're worth it
When you hit me, hit me hard

Everest

Everest lets himself breathe again, the tightness in his chest easing as Isla’s steady presence pulls him back into his body. Her hands around his, the familiar pressure and warmth, settle something deep and instinctive; it isn’t medical technique that reaches him, but trust, built quietly over time and reinforced now when he needs it most. He exhales, slow and deliberate, shoulders lowering as the noise in his head softens to something he can sort through.

He nods, already shifting his weight as if momentum alone might help, the urge to do rising sharp and immediate. Going to the docks, lifting crates, unloading skyships, those are actions with edges and purpose, things his hands understand. But when Isla clasps his hand between both of hers, he stills, the impulse arrested mid-step. His gaze drops to her, really looks at her, and the room steadies around that single point. Stormbreak still looms in his mind, heavy and frightening, but the idea of being there with his parents—of helping them pack, carrying their things, guiding them down from the sky—brings a strange, unexpected calm. It’s something tangible. It makes sense. He nods again, slower this time. "Yes," he says quietly. "That...that’s a good start." The words feel solid once spoken.

"I can help Mateo too," he adds after a moment, practicality threading its way back in. "If he needs it. With the shop, or moving things." Then his expression tightens, conflicted, and he gives a small shake of his head. His eyes drift down to Isla's belly, round and unmistakable now, before lifting back to her face. "I don’t like the idea of leaving you, though," he admits softly. "Either of you."

even if i had to lose you to know you,
i'd still be that temporary phase that you grow through

Isla

"I think that's a good idea," Isla says of helping Mateo at the same time. "You understand the plants he keeps in his shop better than most people. You being there will be appreciated by all of them, I bet. Maybe then they can all sail down together." Tobi and Finn on one of the skyships and Mateo in La Verbena. It might also give Ever a chance to see Stormbreak one last time, to say goodbye to the city he'd grown up in. It might not matter much or it might matter a great deal, but it's the sort of thing rooted in emotion rather than logic that is difficult to explain, so Isla doesn't try.

Instead, smiling at Ever's admission, the Remedy steps in and against him now, head resting against his chest and one arm slipping around his back. "I don't either," she admits, "but it's just for a few days, and it's important. We will be here waiting for you when you get back - right on the dock when the ship comes in. Okay?" Wordlessly she guides his hand down to rest on her belly, where the warmth of his palm is usually met with the restless kick of a little foot these days. 

"And I have some news that you can take up to share too, when you go," she adds, nodding to the envelope on the counter. "That's from the clinic, and it should confirm the baby's sex. I haven't looked yet - I thought we could open it together."

I'll take a bruise, I know you're worth it
When you hit me, hit me hard

Everest

For a moment Everest’s thoughts race ahead of him, lining up skyships and departure times, who could travel together and who would need space for plants, tools, crates. How to minimise chaos by shaping it into something orderly. The mental list is already forming when Isla steps fully into him, and the careful structure dissolves under the simple, grounding fact of her weight against his chest. He releases her hand and wraps his arms around her instead, drawing her close with quiet certainty. His cheek comes to rest against the top of her head, breath softening as he holds her there, aware of how different this embrace feels now, her belly creating a gentle distance that somehow makes the closeness more profound. It still surprises him, in a good way, and he lets himself linger in that awareness rather than rushing past it.

When she guides his hand down, he adjusts without hesitation, palm settling warmly against her belly. He hums a low, contented sound as he exhales, the vibration instinctive, familiar, and meant for both of them. The steady warmth beneath his hand anchors him more effectively than any plan ever could.

His gaze lifts to the envelope as Isla mentions it, the significance landing with a soft but unmistakable weight. Planning, understanding, knowing—all things he leans on—but this feels different, important in a way that even he doesn’t try to analyze too deeply. A small smile curves across his face as he looks down at her. "I’d like that," he says simply.

Reaching out, he takes the envelope from the counter and turns it once in his hands, then holds it out to Isla. "Would you like to do the honours?"

even if i had to lose you to know you,
i'd still be that temporary phase that you grow through

Isla

It might surprise Ever to know it, but he isn't the only one who draws something necessary and grounding from these small, shared moments, Isla closing her eyes briefly to feel the steady warmth of his body where it curves around hers; different to before, yes, but still a source of courage and comfort both. Her hand rests atop his own where the life they've created still sleeps, balled up and safe for longer than it will take, it feels, for Stormbreak to fall from the sky.

"I'd like that too," she agrees with a smile, eyes blinking back open so she might lean up and kiss his cheek, drawing back only so he has room to reach for the envelope. "Me? Well, I suppose I do have experience dealing with paperwork." Laughing softly, Isla takes the envelope and opens it with clever fingers that don't tear the paper. Slipping the note free, she nestles back against his side so they might both look at it before unfolding it.

Blue eyes scan the words with a medic's efficiency, but when she speaks, when she smiles, the warmth in her voice is all Isla. "Everest Hart," she says, barely above a whisper, "I do believe that paper just confirmed we are having a daughter."

I'll take a bruise, I know you're worth it
When you hit me, hit me hard

Everest

A small dimple lingers where Isla’s lips had just brushed his cheek, and Everest feels it even after she’s drawn back, the faint impression grounding him as surely as her warmth against his side. He chuckles softly as she takes the envelope, the sound low and easy, and tilts his head so he can read over her shoulder, eyes automatically tracking the familiar patterns of medical language even as he knows she’ll reach the heart of it faster than he ever could.

When she speaks, the words land all at once. A daughter.

Everest draws in a deep breath, the kind that fills his chest completely and leaves no room for anything else. He hadn’t leaned toward one outcome over the other, hadn’t let himself imagine too clearly, but now that it’s real, confirmed, something bright and gentle unfurls inside him, warmth spreading through his ribs like sunlight finding its way into a quiet room. The world outside—the quakes, the falling city, the urgent leaving—fades to a distant hum.

He grins without trying to stop it, dimples deepening as his expression softens into something openly boyish, wonder written plainly across his face. Leaning in, he presses a kiss to Isla’s temple, lingering there for just a moment longer than necessary. "A daughter," he repeats softly, the word tasting new and miraculous as he says it again, his hand still warm and steady over her belly as if already memorising the shape of the future they now knew a little bit more about.

even if i had to lose you to know you,
i'd still be that temporary phase that you grow through

Isla

Isla can hear the smile in his voice, however soft it might be, and the wonder in it is enough to have her eyes prickling. Leaning back and against Ever, she finds herself scanning the paper again and again as if trying to pull out more information than it can give to them, eventually discarding the note when it proves unfulfilling. "Our daughter," she says, the word tasting foreign and right all at the same time, "is so lucky to have you as her father."

Quietly confident in a way normally only associated with surgeries or diagnoses, Isla turns just enough to gaze up at the aviator, reaching up to brush her thumb across his stubbled cheek. "You are a wonderful man," she tells him, "and I love you." Having to lean up on her toes (something that's proving increasingly difficult) for a kiss, she nevertheless fully intends to claim one, her lips soft and sweet and unhurried.

"Do you have any thoughts on the best material for her crib?" she asks with a smile tilting towards mischievous, as if even using the word her is exciting. She glances over her shoulder towards the planks of wood, assumign Ever has more than a few thoughts on the matter. Maybe now that the future is starting to take a more solid shape, though, other decisions will come easier.

I'll take a bruise, I know you're worth it
When you hit me, hit me hard

Everest

The words daughter and father land together, and Isla will feel the way Everest tightens around her, not in fear but in sheer, unsteady awe, as if the ground has shifted beneath his feet and he’s holding on so he doesn’t tip over entirely. He keeps her close, one arm firm at her back, smiling down at her with an expression that is almost disbelieving in its tenderness. "She’s going to be so lucky," he says quietly, voice warm and certain, [asy]"to have you as her mother."

When Isla rises onto her toes, Everest bends without thinking, meeting her halfway so the kiss is easy and unhurried, his lips soft against hers. One hand lifts to comb gently through her hair near her ear, fingers lingering there as if memorising the feel of her. When they part, he stays close, forehead nearly brushing hers, and he murmurs a soft, earnest thank you into the small space between them. A faint shake of his head follows, wonder still written across his face. "I wouldn’t...have any of this if it wasn’t for you."

At her question, his brows lift, thoughtful now, and he glances over his shoulder at the planks scattered across the floor. His gaze tracks them automatically, cataloguing weight, grain, colour. "I have a few ideas," he says, the hint of a smile returning. "Cedar’s light and resists pests, but it’s softer. Birch is strong and flexible, good for joints, though heavier. Driftwood’s beautiful, but it’s unpredictable unless it’s reinforced properly." He pauses, considering. "If there was ever fire, denser wood would char instead of collapse, but too much weight isn’t ideal either."

even if i had to lose you to know you,
i'd still be that temporary phase that you grow through

Isla

"Then it sounds like she is going to be born very lucky, indeed," Isla says with a smile she can't seem to wipe off her lips any longer, not even when Ever murmurs his gratitude and causes a soft curl of confusion to go thrumming through her. "And I wouldn't have any of this if it wasn't for you," she replies warmly, as if not to understate his own contributions to their relationship. Brushing her nose against the aviator's, at last Isla feels as though she might be able to concentrate enough on anything else, and she turns to angle herself more towards the selections of wood.

Listening with interest and tilting her head at the samples, eventually the Remedy shrugs her shoulders and gazes back up at Ever with a sunny smile. "Fire shouldn't be a problem," she reasons. "I can control it, and in an emergency I don't burn. That being said, I quite like birch. Perhaps we could make a driftwood mobile to hang over the crib?"

I'll take a bruise, I know you're worth it
When you hit me, hit me hard

Everest

Everest does have the instinctive urge to argue, the quiet, familiar insistence that Isla is extraordinary in ways that have nothing to do with him and that she could have built a life like this with anyone she chose. The thought flickers and fades without ever reaching his mouth. Instead, he smiles and nods, accepting the warmth of her words as a gift rather than something to be corrected, and draws her in a little closer. 

"I hadn’t...factored that in," he admits softly at her mention of fire, the corner of his mouth lifting as he recalibrates. "Birch sounds right, then." He nods once more, decision settling comfortably into place. "It smells good, too," he adds, practical even in his fondness, "and it’s a natural detoxifier. It should keep the space clean. Calm." The last word is quieter, meant as much for himself as for their daughter.

At the idea of a driftwood mobile, his expression warms further, already picturing it, light pieces balanced carefully so they turn without knocking, catching air instead of resisting it. "That would be nice," he says, and he means it in the deep, particular way he means things that feel correct. "Perhaps we could work on it together?"

Ever hums gently as his mind moves on to the next step, measurements and sourcing already lining themselves up, and leans down to press a soft kiss to Isla’s forehead before easing away. Carefully, methodically, he begins to gather the wood samples from the floor, stacking them so nothing splinters or tips. As he works, he glances back at her. "How did your conversation with Sunjata go? Was he excited for you?"

even if i had to lose you to know you,
i'd still be that temporary phase that you grow through