Empty Bottle

AURELIA

and my hands aren't clean
maybe they never will be

Aurelia stayed sitting in the sand beside the bonfire long after most of the others had retired for the night - or at least strayed off to go do something (or someone, we're not judging) more worthwhile. The food and drinks had been cleared, and all that remained was Aurelia with her lantern... with her stupid fucking lantern.

She wanted to kick it. She could imagine it, the tear of paper as her foot slammed through what little integrity she had built into it. She sat there in the sand glaring at it. Shrugging out an aggravated sigh, her head fell into her hand, "Ugh...!" the utterance was a low grumble.

And then there was Milo. Miraculously, he was still there as well - and she had almost forgotten about it. Had it not been for the fact that she hated having an audience, she might've started ranting into the midnight air with all the vigor that the alcohol had given her.

"You know, you don't have to stay out here to give me company..." She said, though she did not turn on him. Lifting her head to look at him, her eyes took in the angles of his face. She added, as if it would make her more convincing, "I'm fine. I mean, if you're waiting on me, you don't have to..." She trailed off as she glanced down at his carefully-crafted lantern.

Milo

but they can still carry you home
when you're ready to sleep

MILO

this is for the snakes and the people they bite
for the friends i've made, for the sleepless nights

In the time it had taken to complete his lantern, Milo was definitely a bit drunk. The mess had been cleared with a bit of a sand replacement and he’d remained long after everyone had departed – everyone except for Aurelia. And so he finds himself laying in the sand, staring up at the stars, attention only flickering to her when she grumbles and then speaks to him, some sort of fiery vigor in the words she says. “’m not waitin’ fer you.” He says, a quiet laugh leaving him as he pushes himself up from the sand and peers at the lantern instead of her.

Sand falls from the back of his sleeveless shirt, from the red hair that’s tousled from his hand running through it a few too many times. “Jus’ enjoyin’ the company, ev’n if ya aren’t.” A red brow raises, turning to look back at her with dark ochre eyes. Nodding his head toward his lantern, he shrugs lightly. “Didn’t know ‘nyone t’make a lantern fer this year so I kinda bullshitted it. Don’ tell Ludo on me, a’ight?” A crooked grin splashes across his face, knowing she wouldn’t but knowing that he had put quite a lot of detail into the lantern regardless.

Perhaps instead of it being for a person lost to them, it was more of a shrine to some memories – something to get over one day.

for the warning signs i've completely ignored
there's an amount to take, reasons to take more

AURELIA

and my hands aren't clean
maybe they never will be

"Oh, uh... good!" Aurelia was taken aback by his answer, having fully expected that to be the reason he was still there. She internally cringed at herself and, if not for the relaxation of a few drinks (given to her by Milo, actually), she might've actually felt embarrassed for assuming. She looked back over at him as he righted himself, the sandy grit falling from his shifting clothes and hair in a gentle spray. His hair was a miraculous shade of red that she found hard not to stare at for a little longer.

She smiled softly back at his crooked grin, an instinctive reaction even though she found the contents of his words to have a surpisingly heavy effect on her. "You're very fortunate, in that case," She murmured. Though she wouldn't spite him or fault him for it, remarking with a genuine admiration, "It's pretty. I won't tell."

She glanced back at his lantern and then rolled her eyes across to her own, smile disappearing. "I can't stand mine," she paused, criss-crossing her legs underneath her, "not because it's ugly. Which, I mean- it is," she scoffed, "but it made me realize something and... uhhh," her head flopped back into her hands again and she let loose a muffled, antagonized groan into her palms. Slowly, she lifted her head back up once more and stared into the dying flames of the fire, "You ever have those kind of moments? Where it feels like... something important's been pulled right out from under your feet?"

but they can still carry you home
when you're ready to sleep

MILO

this is for the snakes and the people they bite
for the friends i've made, for the sleepless nights

His shoulders rise and fall in a shrug at being told he’s fortunate. “Mm, maybe. Maybe instead’a it bein’ staggered, ev’ryone’ll drop dead ‘n then I’ll have a buncha lanterns t’make.” Perhaps it’s a bit dark, but his parents are getting older and his brothers have already had a few close calls at sea. All things considered, however, Milo’s lead a pretty untraumatizing life. Perhaps that’s why this hits a bit differently, the quick realization that he doesn’t have anyone to make the lantern for.

But that’s beside the point. Milo props himself up on one hand in the sand, gaze drifting toward her lantern and peering at it with equal parts confusion and curiosity. “It ain’t ugly. Pretty good fer yer first lantern. Assumin' it is yer first, that is.” Most of the naturals had practice making them, at least. It’s what came with the territory for here. It was tradition. But his gaze snaps back to her as she speaks with her head close to her hands, her eyes focused on the dying flame.

And Milo shifts, turning so he can lift a knee to rest his other arm on, something in an attempt to get comfortable by the fire while his mind whirls with the alcohol. “Yeh, had a few of ‘em.” He half grumbles. “Why? Ya suddenly realize som’thin’ ya wish ya hadn’t?” He asks, his grin gone, replaced by furrowed dark red brows.

for the warning signs i've completely ignored
there's an amount to take, reasons to take more

AURELIA

and my hands aren't clean
maybe they never will be

Aurelia scoffed, though not in mockery of what he was saying. She actually found it ironic, because that's pretty much what had happened to her. "Yeah, well, at least you're already here, so you know you won't get whisked away from your home world to some crazy place called Caido," she raised her eyebrows with a grin, "unless the Voice decides she hates you and just... gives you a good ole toss!"

She frowned in doubtful confusion at his compliment of her lantern, again surprised by his reaction. Although, she supposed anything he did could technically come off as a surprise to her - she had only just met him. But from what she'd seen of him, he had an endearing kind of personality that was hard for her to dislike. "It is the first, thanks..." she softened her expression, trying to allow herself to feel more positive. Even if the symbol on the lantern was fucking haunting her, it was something she'd built to honor her parents. She glanced over at it again and explained, "I made it for my parents. That symbol on the sides, it was their logo. They put it on everything they made," she glanced back over at him and pointed out, "they were smiths, owned an armory together."

Milo's furrowed brows made her shake her head in exasperation, not because he'd done anything wrong. She didn't quite want to answer him about it. But she attempted to simplify it anyway. Maybe he could see what she was seeing, actually. "Well, my father was killed in a fire that burned down our family shop with him. They never did catch who did it," she tilted her head at the lantern she'd crafted. She pointed at the shapes that came together to form one painfully obvious symbol; a flame.

"What does that look like to you?"

but they can still carry you home
when you're ready to sleep

MILO

this is for the snakes and the people they bite
for the friends i've made, for the sleepless nights

“Mm yeah, we’ll see.” He replies, flashing her a half smile as she goes on her parade of the Voice stealing her away. “Sorry ya got stuck with the lot of us.” He offers, toasting to her with an empty flask as he remains laying in the sand, halfway, attention dipping between her and the lantern she’d spoken of. Her voice gets softer, her expression softer, and Milo feels like he’s won something at the end of it.

But he focuses on her, sets the flask down into the sand and wipes the sand from his hands before running his fingers through his hair once again, pulling the loose pieces out of his face so that he might better see the lantern. But he can’t, not from this distance, so he shuffles a bit to move to stand – a bit wobbly, a bit drunk, sinking down into the sand beside her and the lantern so he might pick it up to peer at it.

“Smiths, mm?” He rumbles, cocking his head this way and that. “Looks like’a fire t’me.” He offers, gaze lifting up to peer at her, closer now than he had been before. “So lemme guess, ya think it’s mockin’ ya? Sorry t’hear ‘bout yer dad.” It’s jumbled and a bit all over the place, but he sets the lantern down and looks back to the dying fire. “Don’t… Don’t smiths use’a lotta fire? D’ya think that’s it?” Not much more than that to read into?

Granted, Milo can’t say. He hardly knows the woman.

for the warning signs i've completely ignored
there's an amount to take, reasons to take more

AURELIA

and my hands aren't clean
maybe they never will be

Aurelia sighed, leaning back on one arm. She shook her head slowly, intending to reassure, "I think it's more like you lot got stuck with me. And, y'know, I'm fortunate that I've been.. more-or-less welcomed." She offered him a brief smile.

Milo was quick to catch on to her train of thought and she was only thankful that he did. It was so obvious, now, looking back on things and seeing just how quickly he came to a similar conclusion. Before... it was a detail overlooked. It had taken her years to realize the depth of that symbol. She could kick herself with how frustrated she was at her own self-absorbed blindness. Milo's suggestion that it could've been an accident pushed a button, though, and she glared down at the lantern in response.

"It could be," she admitted with a soft 'tsk' and a shake of her chin, "but I doubt it. I think there's more to my father's death than that. I don't know, really. But I've always gotten a weird... feeling about it. It's just a hunch but, I know my parents were careful with the forge and I think the fire was intentional. My father would never have done that to himself. So, 'who' is the real mystery..." Her lips sealed shut and she looked away, towards the rolling, dark waves of the empty ocean.

Then, her gaze travelled up to the black sky above. Stars twinkled softly in the darkness. It was a new feeling to her; stargazing. For a moment, she wondered if her parents were watching. If that sort of thing was real, anyway. It probably wasn't.

She turned away to face the fire again, feeling the anger finally roll off of her in one giant wave. "It doesn't matter, I suppose. I'll never be able to find out who did it, not for certain anyway. I'm in a completely different world," Her hazel eyes moved across the fire and back to Milo, to whom she gave a sad smile.

but they can still carry you home
when you're ready to sleep

MILO

this is for the snakes and the people they bite
for the friends i've made, for the sleepless nights

“It really ain’t so bad. Beats lookin’ at all’ve those ugly mugs I usually look at.” He muses, shooting her a playful grin in response to her brief smile. “Tho’s not like I getta lotta time to look around ‘em anyway. Runnin’ so much ‘n all that.” Usually the young smuggler worked alone – only seeing anyone else when he was handing off the packages or picking them up. Everything else though? All by his lonesome.

Perhaps that adds into the amount of drinking he’s undertaken tonight. It’s hard to say.

But he rubs at his chin, focusing on her as she explains a bit more about the feeling associated with the lantern and the symbol, his head tilting slightly as he considers it. “Mm, well. Could be.” And from Milo’s drunken standpoint, it seems very likely. But he doesn’t know enough to say which way or not, so he simply agrees with a decisive nod of his head.

Milo leans back in the sand again with a soft oof as his back hits the sand and he stares up at the stars as they twinkle overhead. “Well… I wouldn’t say that. Y’were smart ‘nough to get it figured out here. Suppose that copy’a ya can figure it out too, yeah?” Something could come of it, just whether or not Aurelia would know whether that version of herself had or hadn’t figured it out, is another story. Hopefully it helps, though, Milo’s not particularly a good one at giving advice or comforting anyone. He could barely do it for himself.

for the warning signs i've completely ignored
there's an amount to take, reasons to take more

AURELIA

and my hands aren't clean
maybe they never will be

Milo's playful comment made her chuckle softly. Her words held a thick layer of humor in them as she agreed, "Mhm, Jack is pretty hard to look at. You'll have to get me out of my chores one of these days, so I don't have to keep lookin' at him." Her gaze briefly toured the contours of Milo's face and body. She noticed the way he swayed slightly, the way his eyelids sagged without looking tired; he was pretty drunk. Although, that was fair considering that he'd had most of that bottle.

She raised her brows when he sank back into the sand with a muffled thump. If it weren't for the seriousness of the conversation at hand, she might've smiled down at him in amusement. But her mind was in a different place, a part of her still stuck in that long-lost world.. somewhere out there, in some other space. She pressed her thumb to her jaw, the longing of that place billowing out of her in a sigh. Smoke from the fire drifted past, the smell of burnt wood somehow calming her dizzying thoughts.

"Yeah..." she scoffed, "that's such a weird thought." That someone out there was living her life as her, but it wasn't really her. Or was it? Schrodinger's Aurelia. "I don't really wanna think about it anymore... I want to forget everything... but, I know that's not gonna happen, and it's probably better that I remember," her tone came off much more nonchalant than the meaning behind her words, or the emotions that she felt deep down. But it was always much easier to pretend nothing bothered her in the end. She lifted her arms up and arched her back in an impressive stretch, groaning with the effort -"Uwaghh! Fuck,"- and allowing her body to fall back into the sand too.

"So... what's on your mind, then?" She asked, though she didn't look at him. She simply stared up at the smoke-filled sky, tucking her arms behind her head to prop it up. "Clearly something is. Or you wouldn't still be up, drunk as you are," she furrowed her brow slightly and smiled.

but they can still carry you home
when you're ready to sleep

MILO

this is for the snakes and the people they bite
for the friends i've made, for the sleepless nights

“Aye that can be arranged.” He rumbles, flashing Aurelia an easy grin, broken up only when he tries to lean back casually and simply ends up flailing back into the sand – it hitting his back with enough of a surprise that he almost winces before he’s staring at the sky and the twinkling stars, wondering if the stars were the same for the Outlanders or if they’d changed world to world. “I bet.” He agrees a touch softer now, to the thought of the copy and how that implicates things. He’s simply himself, no copies to be found unless siblings counted. Even then, they weren’t exactly copies anyway.

He was the only one that smuggled in his family. He was also the only one that knew anything about it.

Aurelia falls back into the sand beside him and Milo pulls his gaze away from the stars to look over at her, watching her as she looks at the stars, the alcohol swimming in his stomach and blurring everything else out but her and the fire and the lingering twinkling stars up above. And after a moment, he pulls his gaze away to look back at the sky, mimicking her pose and putting his arms behind his head, paired with a shrug. “Mm, nothin’ really. Jus’ enjoyin’ the company like I said before.” But that’s not entirely true, is it Milo? “Don’ wanna go home yet.” To a sleeping house full of people, ones that would get up before dawn and bustle around the house to get onto their fishing boats to head out for the day. “Don’ really wanna go home tonight at all, to be honest.” He isn’t even sure why he’s telling her this, but it’s passed his lips now and he can’t take them back.

And so he stares up at the twinkling stars, working his jaw as a cloud passes over the moon.

for the warning signs i've completely ignored
there's an amount to take, reasons to take more

AURELIA

and my hands aren't clean
maybe they never will be

Aurelia leaned her head so that her cheek pressed against one of her arms, arcing an eyebrow at him. She didn't buy it for one second that he was there because he just wanted to hang out by the fire. Everyone had things they were dealing with, processing, getting over. Everyone. Maybe some people were better at hiding it than others, maybe some people struggled less, but life is tough for all its victims. Or perhaps Aurelia just wanted to know that she wasn't the only one tonight.

Her expression softened into something like sympathy, understanding, as he admitted that he didn't want to go home. She watched as his jaw clenched and unclenched, her attention lingering on his averted gaze and unsmiling lips. She brought her leg up and felt something shuffle out of her pocket. Glancing down, she realized she'd forgotten about the little box of cigarettes she had.

So, she sat up and retrieved one from the box to light it with a match. She sucked a drag off of it, letting the smoke fume from her parted lips. She turned, facing him now. Using her free hand and her feet to move through the sand, she scooted closer to offer it to him with raised brows, only stopping when her foot accidentally nudged him. "I don't know if you smoke. I certainly don't, but," she grinned playfully at that, "seems like we could both use one."

"So.. don't wanna go home, huh?" She blinked down at him, smile gone. The curiosity in her green gaze only slightly outweighed the concern in it, too. "Things with your family aren't so good?"

but they can still carry you home
when you're ready to sleep

MILO

this is for the snakes and the people they bite
for the friends i've made, for the sleepless nights

Truth be told, Milo has a great family, one well revered for fishing and supplying Torchline with some of its better fish. But it had never been that path for him, the youngest, left to fend for himself when his siblings got older, when his sister helped his mother in the stands in Kaiholo, when his brothers departed for the sea with his father. It had just been him. And really, that’s not a sad story like many around here. Not like Zeph or anyone else that had succumbed to it.

But Milo was just tired of pretending his work at the docks was legit, tired of defending it, tired of coming home late and being questioned when he inevitably and accidentally woke up a parent. And he supposes he has the bookshop that Sam had left him, a room for himself and an empty one down the hall. But that was all it was, an empty husk. And Milo? Well, he doesn’t like being alone.

His gaze drifts to her as she sits up and pulls the cigarette up to her lips to light it, shuffling closer to him until she’s peering down at him, a crooked smile crossing his face. “Sure looks like ya are.” He accuses with a playful tone, even if it’s a bit weary. But he sits up halfway, letting his brown gaze drift over her face as the smoke drifts from her, as he props himself up on an elbow and angles a bit toward her. “’Sides, ya were the one t’bring ‘em anyway.” And with his free hand he plucks the cigarette from her offered hand, putting it to his lips and taking a deep and practiced drag.

He meets her gaze after a moment of letting the nicotine spread through him. “Things at home ‘r fine. I jus’...” He sighs, shaking his head and taking another drag before flipping the cigarette so the butt is angled toward her and the cherry angled toward him. “Too many questions when ‘m gettin’ home when m’brother’s ‘r gettin’ up fer work, y’know?” Provided she grabs the cigarette, he’ll take that hand and run through his red locks. “Can only use the Halenani ‘n the Hanged Man as ‘n excuse so many times ‘fore it gets old.”

for the warning signs i've completely ignored
there's an amount to take, reasons to take more

AURELIA

and my hands aren't clean
maybe they never will be

Aurelia didn't know much about the families in Torchline. She hadn't been there long enough to become acquainted with the community, and the large city only reminded her of her home. Haulani was a thousand times better than Oreville, even the name was better. But, unfortunately, she was sick of the suffocation of man-made buildings and crowded streets. She found release by the ocean, looking out at the vast waters. All that empty space called to her. Guess she's gotten in with the right crowd for that, hasn't she?

A laugh left her nose, breathy and light, as he called her on her bullshit. She lifted her chin in a motion of feigned indignance, muttering, "I don't know what yer talkin' about." Her gaze drifted away slyly.

She was suddenly feeling especially conscious about being in such close physical proximity to someone. If she moved forward at all, she'd touch him. But, something grounded her. The alcohol, probably, taking that edge off, reminding her that she was only human, that being close to another person was something she needed. So she didn't move away, though she wouldn't move any closer either. Her gaze peered back up at him when he spoke up, raising her brows when he flipped the cigarette back towards her. She accepted it back with a small smile, pressing the filter to her lips again.

The smile faded as she listened to him, though, slowly exhaling so that a smooth trail of smoke left her lips. "Well, I don't know what those are, don't think I've been yet," she finally replied, in reference to the Halenani and the Hanged Man, "but I get what you're saying. You're trying to keep this smuggling shit a secret, and for good reason," she flicked the ash from the cigarette into the sand, looking over at the fire. It had shrunk and was giving off a dimmer light. The muscles in her jaw tensed as she clenched it, mulling over the facts presented, trying to decipher a solution, "that is a pretty tough situation to be in."

She smirked and looked back at him, "You could just tell them that you have a very active sex life. Eh? Ehh?" She nudged him with her elbow playfully, smirk becoming a grin, "Might be better than telling them you uh... what'd you say you did? You run?" She furrowed her brows, taking a second drag and pausing, "I'm dull, you'll have to explain that to me." She turned the cigarette in her fingers and offered it back towards him in the same manner he'd done for her. Your turn.

but they can still carry you home
when you're ready to sleep

MILO

this is for the snakes and the people they bite
for the friends i've made, for the sleepless nights

“Mhmm.” He hums with curls of smoke leaving his lips, his eyes watching as her gaze dips slyly away. But he speaks and she listens, and Milo finds that it’s nice. It’s nice not having to fight for the attention, nice not being talked over, everything about this was relieving in ways Milo had no idea he needed. Though red brows do raise when she tells him she doesn’t know what those places are.

And he’s silent for a moment, waiting until she offers her jest, one that causes him to bark his laughter, a wide grin spreading across his face. But he takes the cigarette, eyes her curiously and perhaps a bit roguish and amused, before taking a drag and leaning in a small amount closer as if he’s telling her a secret. “So, the Hanged Man’s the bar. The Halenani’s a brothel.” He leans back then, staring right at her for a response. “So like I said, can only use ‘em sparin’ly.” He snorts, though it isn’t like he hasn’t spent some nights in either place.

As for running, however, he pulls his gaze away from her to look back at the dying fire, to flick the ash from the cigarette as he considers it. “I’m a… Deliverer.” He says after a moment, visibly cringing at the idea of calling himself a delivery boy. “Jack ‘n the crew come back ‘n I pick up the packages ‘n take em through the Fingers. Sometimes I pick ‘em up elsewhere ‘n bring em back to the Ark.” A smirk crosses his face as he takes the hand with the cigarette and gestures to his body. “Aka, runner.”

One more drag from the cigarette, before he’s flipping it again to hand it to her, his gaze softening and lingering on her face and the way the dying firelight reflects against her cheek and her jaw. “What do you do fer ‘em?”

for the warning signs i've completely ignored
there's an amount to take, reasons to take more