eyes can't shine unless there's something burning bright behind
Aurelia makes her way towards the Hanged Man, in need of some reprieve after a day's work on the docks. There's a distinct feeling of pressure that sharpens her features, shoulders pinched back and chest held tight. The voyage with the Ark is an impending event that inches closer and closer with every day. She both looks forward to it and worries about everything that could go wrong. A stormy sea, purposelessly angry whales, or whatever else might lurk in the depths or the skies. Maybe they will find something good, or maybe they won't. Either way, she has no control over the future.
So as she saunters in through the door, she billows out a sigh and tiredly pushes back her mane of dark hair. At first, she doesn't even look around at who all is there. The people gathered in the Hanged Man don't really pop out at her as any of the ones she knows. She meanders up to the bar and orders a strong drink, taking a moment to turn around and sip it as she looks for a quiet booth to sink into her thoughts.
It's then that she nearly chokes on her drink, spying Sunjata in a left-alone corner. All of that comes flooding back to the forefront of her mind: the last time she saw him, falling from the cliffs; thinking he was dead; the argument with Nate; the talk with Hotaru; the fact he never bothered asking her for help but that she also can't blame him for it. She clears her throat after a few long moments and walks over to him slowly, ice clinking around in her glass.
She stops at the edge of his table and places her glass somewhere opposite his side, where she intends to sit. But first, she places a hand on one of the papers and leans over it, eyes skimming its contents.
With a smile, she finally tilts her head to look up at him. She does notice the new and jagged scar, but meets his stormy eyes anyway. "What's all this? Not plans for a new house, surely?" Her tone is forcibly light. It's a joke, maybe making too light of the whole mob thing. She wants to ask him what happened, if he's okay, wants to give him a hug and let him know she's here, motherfucker, and he can always call on her. But she doesn't, instead offering him a smile and a joke.. like it's all.. fine.
So as she saunters in through the door, she billows out a sigh and tiredly pushes back her mane of dark hair. At first, she doesn't even look around at who all is there. The people gathered in the Hanged Man don't really pop out at her as any of the ones she knows. She meanders up to the bar and orders a strong drink, taking a moment to turn around and sip it as she looks for a quiet booth to sink into her thoughts.
It's then that she nearly chokes on her drink, spying Sunjata in a left-alone corner. All of that comes flooding back to the forefront of her mind: the last time she saw him, falling from the cliffs; thinking he was dead; the argument with Nate; the talk with Hotaru; the fact he never bothered asking her for help but that she also can't blame him for it. She clears her throat after a few long moments and walks over to him slowly, ice clinking around in her glass.
She stops at the edge of his table and places her glass somewhere opposite his side, where she intends to sit. But first, she places a hand on one of the papers and leans over it, eyes skimming its contents.
With a smile, she finally tilts her head to look up at him. She does notice the new and jagged scar, but meets his stormy eyes anyway. "What's all this? Not plans for a new house, surely?" Her tone is forcibly light. It's a joke, maybe making too light of the whole mob thing. She wants to ask him what happened, if he's okay, wants to give him a hug and let him know she's here, motherfucker, and he can always call on her. But she doesn't, instead offering him a smile and a joke.. like it's all.. fine.
Aurelia
