who we are and all that we're trying to be
The Sword’s senses, though not dulled, were preoccupied by his actions, by the smooth, crisp endeavors of muscle and might, of honing in strength where it’d been so sorely lacking. He had no notion of being watched, of where eyes that had once lingered and lingered rested on him again; until the voice pierced through his ears, and he ceased the downward assailment on the latest piece of wood. His movements towards her weren’t abrupt; the beast took his time, meticulous and patient, composed, trying desperately to not let the emotions reel, boil, seethe, brim, or churn over in his soul. He finally turned his head over his shoulder, and then the rest of his figure followed, but he wouldn’t be able to fend off the sharp pain in his eyes.
Reminders of more things, people, loves, that he’d lost.
Zuriel immediately rose, ears pinned towards the Shield, and he sent her a look. She remained standing, not maneuvering any closer, but the warning dignified, significant, and imperious in Amalia’s direction.
Before he could say or do anything, there was the starwhale, breaking apart the tension rankling over his shoulders, curling away the temptation to simply hide, to gain back his shadows and never leave them. “Jyoti,” he addressed first, in the quiet rumble of his chest, in the idle, familiar scratch and pats along the whale’s hide. “Missed you,” was a murmur, because he had. He missed so many and so much and all of it bound together in taut, frayed ends and strings. Within a few quiet breaths, attempting to steel over his heart, his eyes eventually slid to the onyx ones he’d known and beholden and beloved. The enticement to return to old habits, to silence, to nothing but walls and fortresses and fortifications curled back, and he took a few more sharp inhales before the words could form across his tongue. “If you want.” His hand went towards another ax nearby, a gesture if she cared for efforts in splitting, or along the pile waiting to be placed into the wagon.
A pause, before he returned to his ministrations and duties, before all of this was likely to come crashing down around him. “Why are you here?”
It takes dying to know
How to live as ghosts
