We have highs and we have lows

May your past be the sound

Of all the things he thought he'd hear her say, she telling him that he was strong certainly wasn't one of them. He wanted to deny it, to brush her words off with a light quip, a joke - and he would have, if anyone else had said them to him. But it wasn't just anyone who had said them, it was her, Kia, lifting him up even when she was falling down. Gods, what had he done to deserve her, to be granted this trust, this intimacy? He treasured every moment, giving as much of himself as he could in return.

He'd never be the most physically strong person, but he was getting there, practising most days with the moves she had shown him. But strength of character? Ability to withstand emotional turmoil? To remain steadfast through trying times? Being a veterinarian gave him training in such things, but there was more to it than that - he was inherently inclined that way, resolute, dependable, able to endure most traumatic events as they unfolded with a clear enough head to react and respond.

But was that the strength she spoke of?

"I grow stronger for knowing you, for having you in my life," he murmured quietly, words just for her, accepting her assessment of him but also giving her credit where it was due - his experience in Caido would have been vastly different had he not dropped those damned vegetables on the road in front of her that day. With her arms about his neck he watched her eyes close against the glassiness, the tears that burned behind her eyes - they burned behind his too, as the weight of her grief shared between them still ebbed and flowed, rising and falling like a tide.

"Always," he says simply in reply, holding her in his arms as with a firm embrace, his words echoing those which they had shared before. He wished, not for the first time, that he was skilled enough with his attuned abilities to share himself with her, to fully support her in this, to show her, to tell her…

"It's okay to cry, if you need to," he said, words that were worlds apart from those that his heart ached at his to say. "It's just me here," he whispered, "and I promise not to tell a single soul that I saw the fabled Kiada shed a tear."

of your feet upon the ground

CHULANE

KIADA

your battleworn tongue doesn't say the truth;

that you are ruined

His quiet murmur, his own compliment to her own strength only has her wanting nothing more than to bury her head away again, pushing herself out and away of the eye of him – after sharing so much, everything within her feels raw and pained. Her arms are around his neck, her eyes closing tight as she tries to swallow down and hide the tears that threaten to reappear again. His ‘Always’ is a boon as well, something she can latch onto with nothing else in mind.

And latch on she does, especially when his words reach her, edged and laced in a joke – a small hiccup of a sound leaves her – a cross between her tightness of her throat and the laugh that wishes to escape as she presses herself into his chest again, fighting against herself to take a deep breath. She tries to ignore the first comment, one that so many have told her before, in favor for the jest.

“You’d better not.” She comments quietly, rubbing her face against his chest before she pulls away to look up at him again, the barest, briefest hint of a smile edging the corners of her lips. “It’d ruin my reputation.” It’s aimed as a joke, aimed at being ‘what reputation’ nowadays, before her gaze softens, the load on her shoulders feels lighter, she feels better.

and you wonder why he lets you,

the butcher

touch him

the sun

May your past be the sound

Raw, worn, tired - he feels it as she does, like a drain on their energy. Grief threatened to consume them, but it hadn't yet, and it wouldn't - not with both of them here, together, holding each other up. He was confident of that, at least, that while they might sit still and let the emotions wash over them, might feel lost in the moment, they would both maintain awareness that it was just a moment in time, even if it felt like an age when one was living it.

They are so alike, both of them wanting to deny their strength, hiding from the compliments even when given with sincerity and love to one another. It was easier, more comfortable, to tease, to offer to lighten the mood, to acknowledge the shitty things that have happened but to move on from them too.

Because, life went on, whether they went with it or not. Any Chuy was determined to go with it, along with her.

A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth as she admonishes him, the hint of relief rolling through her rolling through him as well, as emotions shifted and settled into something different. The grief and sadness and sorrow - they were all still there, definitely, but they were soothed, a quiet determination also present. It wasn't easy, for either of them, but together they could do this - together they were doing this.

"Can't have that," quiet tones reserved for her agreed, before his arms tensed to give a gentle squeeze of a hug. "Did you want to head back?" he asked, his own preferences unknown even to himself at this point - he just wanted to be where she was, to support her no matter where that happened.

of your feet upon the ground

CHULANE

KIADA

your battleworn tongue doesn't say the truth;

that you are ruined

It is easier, she finds, having released the tension of her emotions within her, simply for the fact that she doesn’t have to let it fill to the brim until it spilled over in less than ideal situations. But the pressure is relieved, breathing easier, waiting once again for the boiling point.

But she manages to disentangle herself from him, enough that she can stand and wipe at her eyes. “No, we can’t.” She agrees softly, a small smile forming on her lips as she suddenly begins to feel far more better than she had in a while. “I think I’d like to head home.” She adds after a moment, reaching out to grasp his hand and squeeze it gently, glancing back down toward the road toward home.

“What do you think of the Grounds?” She asks, craving a change of subject, something to take her mind off of recent events.

and you wonder why he lets you,

the butcher

touch him

the sun

May your past be the sound

He rose soon after she vacated his lap, happy she was feeling well enough to stand and get moving again, but also strangely reluctant to let her go - he missed her nearness. But he stayed close, taking her hand when it was offered and returning the squeeze, intertwining their fingers and letting himself be directed to home, refusing to let his thoughts linger too long on how he didn't know where home physically was for him.

He was with her, and as long as that was true, he was home.

"They're wonderful," he said, giving into her need for a distraction, for a new topic to take the focus away from the pain, the grief, the sorrow. "Very different to Halo," he added with a soft chuckle, as they walked. The Grounds had farmland, animals and agriculture aplenty, making it vastly different to the frozen tundra of Halo, with its scrappy animals and non-existent agricultural systems.

"I don't think I'd find it too hard to build a life here," he hummed thoughtfully, almost to himself, a smirk lingering on his lips.

of your feet upon the ground

CHULANE

KIADA

your battleworn tongue doesn't say the truth;

that you are ruined

The squeeze he gives her hand is all the confirmation she needs that he understands her need for something else to focus on. And her question is reciprocated so easily that it almost felt as though they’d talked about the weather previously, rather than her settled in his lap letting her emotions drown the both of them. Her fingers intertwine with his, and she settles into an easy walk to guide him the familiar path toward home, as soon as he comments that it’s different.

“It is different. You get a whole four seasons here instead of just… Endless snow.” She says, tilting her head to look up at him with an easy smile along her face. But it falters a small amount as soon as his smirk grows, the hum leaving his throat with the thoughtful commentary he’s given her. And her brows furrow a small amount together, hand shifting a small amount in his but remaining. “You really think so?” It’s quiet, perhaps a bit more hopeful than she expected.

and you wonder why he lets you,

the butcher

touch him

the sun

May your past be the sound

It was the nature of life, sometimes to get out of the sinkhole of emotions, one had to take drastic action, to ignore, for some time, the pain and confronting emotions, and focus instead on the pleasant ones. It was a matter of survival, of maintaining one's mental health, of leaning into that instinct to carry on, even if it felt wrong, on some other level. They would never forget this time, or its necessity, but that also didn't mean they had to linger there any longer than necessary either.

He was glad to hear her sound more normal, to take up the usual banter that was their way of communicating. It gave him hope and optimism that yes, they would indeed get through this.

"Hey," he said, a beat after her question aired. He could read the worry on her, feel the tension in the air, the way she shifted in his grip - a grip which he tightened, firmly, leaving no room for doubt of his seriousness as he said his next words. "I'd never joke about something like that, about us." He paused their walking, tugging at her hand so that she might look at him directly. "Yes. Absolutely yes, I really think so."

The beat of his heart in his chest had picked up, as nervousness danced its way through him. Talking about these things was bound to induce anxiety, though that could easily be turned into excitement when the notions he aired were welcomed.

of your feet upon the ground

CHULANE

KIADA

your battleworn tongue doesn't say the truth;

that you are ruined

Her question hangs for no longer than a second before his voice pipes up and she almost pauses midstep – feeling the tightening of his grip – all ears for him until he pauses and tugs at her hand so she does stop in step and turn to face him – letting her gaze flicker along his face as a small, almost awkward smile, blossoms along her face. “I’d like that.” She says quietly, tugging back at his hand to keep walking toward home, to get out of the mud and into the warmth of her own space.

One that could be his one day.

But she looks forward where they walk, spotting a Magna Vermis as it scuttles away, her brows lifting as she points to it with her free hand. “That’s a magna vermis. They’re basically big earthworms.” She explains, lifting her attention to his face – wondering what he might think of it. “They get really aggressive when they find a puddle they like. But if you cook them they kind of taste like chicken.” Or Ningo’s, she supposes, with an amused smirk crossing her face with that thought.

and you wonder why he lets you,

the butcher

touch him

the sun

May your past be the sound

He hummed a note of agreement to her confirmation of liking him living there. He'd like that too, very much so. There was a lot of times he cursed his own ambition, his own desire to help an improve where he could see room for help to be given and improvements to be made. Because if he had just been there, without commitments, without wanting to try something that could change how Halo weathers the change of the now-open portal, he could have just followed her here, could have said farewell to the cold tundra of Halo and welcomed the vast, lush farmlands of the Grounds.

It could have been so easy. But then, he was never one to shirk a challenge.

He kept walking with her, satisfied that he had made his point - the details of which, they would work out later. The ningo farm would take time, a lot of time, and effort, to get up and running. And then, he wanted to ensure it worked, that it set Halo up to survive Deepfrost easily, that it gave them more tradeable goods - it meant he had to be the one running it, the one managing it, for a good chunk of time at least. But once it was established, once workers were in place and processes processing along, he had confidence he could step away - to live his life for himself (and Kia).

Keen interest had him following her pointed hand, as he stopped their walking once more to squat down near the rather huge worm she pointed out. "Ain't she a beauty?" he said with admiration, oblivious to her checking to see whether he was interested or not - when it came to animals, Chuy was always interested. He glanced up to her with a grin, clearly pleased she took the time to point it out to him. "Do they come out all year round?"

of your feet upon the ground

CHULANE

KIADA

your battleworn tongue doesn't say the truth;

that you are ruined

She honestly doesn’t expect him to dive straight for it – her iceberg gaze following the way he moves out of the path, his hand slipping out of hers to go and stop in their pursuit home to squad nearby it. Luckily for Chuy, the worm doesn’t seem to mind, continuing its small trek toward a rather large puddle further down from where they stand. There’s a small half smirk on her face as she stops and remains standing by his side, her gaze flickering from it to Chulane.

“I guess.” She replies perhaps a bit wryly to his comment, though it’s all good natured, evident by the slight smirk that remains on her face – a pulse of amusement sent toward the raw attuned bond between them. “Only in Flowerbirth do they seem to arrive.” She murmurs softly, shrugging lightly, but settling as she realizes the gentleness and happiness he has with her for pointing it out. “They’re a popular Fiat Lux food since they’re everywhere.” She informs him, finding it easier as she focuses on the worm again, watching as it slips through the mud and dirt, clearly on a mission.

and you wonder why he lets you,

the butcher

touch him

the sun

May your past be the sound

In truth, the worm was an ugly beast, but Chuy saw beauty in the creatures around him on a deeper level than initial appearances. He admired animals because they did not know how to lie or deceive, they told the truth, and reading their language seemed to come easy to him. Easier than reading that of fellow humans at least - though years of learning in that area had made him quite adept at that too.

"I will have to try it," he said, standing to rise next to her, his interest in the great worm sated for now. Easily he slung an arm around Kia's waist, squeezing her in a quick one-armed embrace before slipping his hand back in her grip, so that they could continue walking. "Fiat Lux," he mused softly, "let there be light." It was a biblical term on his homeworld, and though Chuy was adamantly not a religious man, he had read the book, and heard the phrase before.

"Where do you think it'll be held this year?" he asked, by way of making conversation and because he was interested in the festival, having read about it and heard bits and pieces from the locals on it.

of your feet upon the ground

CHULANE

KIADA

your battleworn tongue doesn't say the truth;

that you are ruined

There’s a small smile that graces her features when he mentions he’ll have to try it. “Maybe I could make you a meal with one, see what you think.” She tosses the idea out there, unsure if he’d want to take her up on the offer, but still offering it up all the same. But Chulane rises, his arm slinging around her and squeezing her in close, and she hugs him back all the same, before their hands find one another’s and the walk continues.

She doesn’t understand the term he says after repeating the name of Fiat Lux, but she decides to filter it away to be looked at later, to deal with later, among the many other things that cross her mind. Their walk takes them along the alley that eventually leads toward home, her head tilting toward him as she continues to figure out where it might be held. She hopes not here. “I’m not sure.” She comments after a moment, dark brows furrowing together.

“Last years Fiat Lux was… Good at first, and then ended terribly. I hope it won’t be held here this year.” She admits, squeezing his hand and leaning into him a bit more while they get closer to the doorstep.

and you wonder why he lets you,

the butcher

touch him

the sun

CHULANE

"I'll try anything at least once, even your cooking" he quipped with a wink and a playful smirk that appeared for a  second, before fading into the raw abyss of emotions that swirled through them. In truth he loved her cooking, not necessarily for what she cooked, but for why she did: The care, the wholesomeness, the simple act of sharing a meal with him.

He picks up on her concern, her hesitation to endorse Fiat Lux being held here, which is confirmed when she speaks, as they come to the doorstep. Kia leaning closer to him was, as it always would be, welcomed, reciprocated, his hand returning the pressure, the squeeze, the assurance that yes, he was still here, for her, in whatever capacity she needed from him.

"Will you go this year, even if last year's was terrible?" he opened the door with the key she had given him, gesturing that she might step in before him, before following. Some night in the future they would be hosting a family dinner here, and he'd be lying if he said it didn't make him nervous, anxious but also in some way, strangely excited - it was a change to the grief, the sorrow. It was something to look forward to, to aim for, to help them take the next step in the ever-turning wheel of life.

Reluctantly he released her hand once they were inside, walking to the kitchen where he got both of them some water to drink - tears and crying and everything else took it out of you, often without one realising it. Sitting down at the table, he pressed the cup into her hands, murmuring an insistent "Drink," as he hoped she would join him.

it is better to know some of the questions
than all of the answers

code shamelessly stolen from Skylark <3

KIADA

your battleworn tongue doesn't say the truth;

that you are ruined

“Hey now.” Kiada replies a bit roughly, though there’s a pulse of amusement sent his way through her outwardly feigned hurt that crosses her face. It’s there for a moment before it’s gone, once again returning to the somber conversation they’re good at bringing up. She’s thankful for the way he offers her the space of leaning into him, of stepping up the porch steps to her home, of not having to unlock the door because she knows that he’s got it.

Would she go to Fiat Lux, though? “I don’t know… I guess it would depend on where it was.” She offers, even if it’s a bit unhelpful. She’d likely give it a shot if she could ensure that all the safety measures would be there in place. “I broke my leg last year when the ice shattered.” She informs him, unsure if she’s told him of it or not. So many wounds, so many small traumas, it was hard to keep track of them all.

But they’re inside and at the table, and she sinks into a chair across from where he moves to sit after handing her a glass of water. She sips lightly from it, clutching it in both hands as she draws her legs up a bit. “Would you want to go?” She assumes he would, simply for the fact that it’s his first Flowerbirth here. If it were her, she’d want to go too.

and you wonder why he lets you,

the butcher

touch him

the sun