CHULANE
It was a beautiful world. Snow was still something of an oddity to Chuy, who had been raised on farmland in a country where water was more rare and precious than oil. Though his homeland indeed had ski fields, he had not often ventured there - veterinary work alongside farm work had kept him quite sufficiently busy all year 'round. So as the sun peeked out for a rare look between the otherwise dreary, cloudy days, Chuy couldn't help but admire it, and wonder at how bright it could really shine when 'summer' came to the land.
He was at a stage of grief where life did indeed move on, and he knew he needed to move on with it, lest he be left behind. A great many strides had been taken for him personally: his relationship with Kia was deepening and developing, his friendship with his landlord evolving into something more akin to a business partnership, as Lenny entrusted him with an entire property to look after and repair, and Morgan was seeking him out for whatever advice he could give to ensure the survival of Halo going forward.
He didn't have time for grief to weigh him down forever. He gave the emotion, the memory of Weaver and those lost, as much time as he could. He had cried over them, drunk over them, but then ultimately, he had gotten up to keep on moving, to keep building this life for himself, and those involved in it.
Life wasn't going to stop just to let them wallow around blindly forever.
A nearby crash got his attention, pulled him from his reverie. He dropped the bag of food he was on his way to deliver into a helpful, soft pile of snow, before rushing forward to see what damage had been wrought.
He was presented with a bloody, murmuring and swaying Korbin, which elicited a surprised gasp from him. "Shit mate, steady on," he said, holding one hand wide as if to catch or direct the boy, the other diving into a pocket to fetch a clean cloth. He approached the young man carefully. "Let me take a look atchya," he asked, reaching up with his cloth-wielding hand to the cut that surely stung like a bitch (the thought that Korbin could be that drunk not yet crossing the young vet's mind).
He was at a stage of grief where life did indeed move on, and he knew he needed to move on with it, lest he be left behind. A great many strides had been taken for him personally: his relationship with Kia was deepening and developing, his friendship with his landlord evolving into something more akin to a business partnership, as Lenny entrusted him with an entire property to look after and repair, and Morgan was seeking him out for whatever advice he could give to ensure the survival of Halo going forward.
He didn't have time for grief to weigh him down forever. He gave the emotion, the memory of Weaver and those lost, as much time as he could. He had cried over them, drunk over them, but then ultimately, he had gotten up to keep on moving, to keep building this life for himself, and those involved in it.
Life wasn't going to stop just to let them wallow around blindly forever.
A nearby crash got his attention, pulled him from his reverie. He dropped the bag of food he was on his way to deliver into a helpful, soft pile of snow, before rushing forward to see what damage had been wrought.
He was presented with a bloody, murmuring and swaying Korbin, which elicited a surprised gasp from him. "Shit mate, steady on," he said, holding one hand wide as if to catch or direct the boy, the other diving into a pocket to fetch a clean cloth. He approached the young man carefully. "Let me take a look atchya," he asked, reaching up with his cloth-wielding hand to the cut that surely stung like a bitch (the thought that Korbin could be that drunk not yet crossing the young vet's mind).
it is better to know some of the questions
than all of the answers
than all of the answers
