Aamu
He doesn't feel like it was a bad idea, just poorly carried out. Turns out his endurance isn't what it used to be, and he's left all drained before he's even gotten to do what he set out to do. All the noise has haunted him on his walk from the port to the market, all the lights, the colors, the faces, until it's difficult to focus.
He should've stayed down in Kaiholo. Acclimatized. Waited. Gotten his sorry ass all the way here the next night.
Oh well. Too late? He's not sure. Could always find some dark nook to wait in. It's tempting.
He's not sure for how long he's been spaced out, wallowing in overwhelmed indecision, but he forces himself out of it. He wasn't born yesterday—he knows standing around and looking like an unwary lost tourist is a recipe for inviting trouble. And he's got allll the ingredients in the pot already.
What is he even looking at?
He doesn't know. Not really. It's .. something. Somethings. A marketplace full of noise and things he doesn't need but need to look at because one of them might have what he wants—
Aamu jumps at the sudden presence at his side, startled to find—a very friendly? average? not-harmful? looking guy. "Hi," he responds awkwardly, choosing to trust about zero of those impressions. The Haulani he remembers is not very honest. Can be, definitely, but best remain on your guard. This guy might not be the danger he's supposed to look for anyway. "Yes. I am."
What's it to you? But that doesn't matter. Aamu contemplates how honest he can—wants—to be with a perfect stranger. He blinks. Slowly. "Why?" Polite. Perplexed.
He should've stayed down in Kaiholo. Acclimatized. Waited. Gotten his sorry ass all the way here the next night.
Oh well. Too late? He's not sure. Could always find some dark nook to wait in. It's tempting.
He's not sure for how long he's been spaced out, wallowing in overwhelmed indecision, but he forces himself out of it. He wasn't born yesterday—he knows standing around and looking like an unwary lost tourist is a recipe for inviting trouble. And he's got allll the ingredients in the pot already.
What is he even looking at?
He doesn't know. Not really. It's .. something. Somethings. A marketplace full of noise and things he doesn't need but need to look at because one of them might have what he wants—
Aamu jumps at the sudden presence at his side, startled to find—a very friendly? average? not-harmful? looking guy. "Hi," he responds awkwardly, choosing to trust about zero of those impressions. The Haulani he remembers is not very honest. Can be, definitely, but best remain on your guard. This guy might not be the danger he's supposed to look for anyway. "Yes. I am."
What's it to you? But that doesn't matter. Aamu contemplates how honest he can—wants—to be with a perfect stranger. He blinks. Slowly. "Why?" Polite. Perplexed.
You are the night-time fear
You are the morning when it's clear
You are the morning when it's clear
