{se} platinum canary blues

Evie

Even if she hadn’t known him a day in her life, she would be able to tell that he would never ask for help by the way his eyes don’t even attempt to search her own. Whether he knows it or not, that is what lends her the certainty that turns her words to stone. Too long he has been left without someone to watch his back, to lend their hands to his in all his efforts and plans. Plans that so often benefitted all others but never solely himself. And though she is scared - because she is, she can feel the hollow in her chest spread like poison with fear - Evie has never felt more certain than in the moment when she sees the shock transform his face.

Which is why she smiles when he tries to object, in the kindest way he knows how. “Good thing you’re not asking then, hm?” A playfulness that is weakened by the seriousness of their topic, but which she infuses out of necessity. To encourage them both to look at this as a way to spread the burden, and not a joined-hand march into the depths of hell.

“Only the people can decide if we are right for them,” she agrees, because she remembers how even when her reign had been in the early days of Ascended flocking to the Grounds, her loyalties had been at odds. “Maybe someone else will be chosen, and then we can laugh about this and make crowns in celebration of responsibilities neatly avoided.” They’d already made crowns of flowers and vines respectively, they’d have to get creative for ones celebrating avoiding becoming Wardens. But seriousness settles around her once more, and she leans her shoulder into his companionably as they kneel before the shrine. “I love Halo,” she murmurs, just enough for him to hear, “I want what’s best for her and her people. Our people. Our friends and neighbors. They’ve struggled too long under a shifting regime.” Always hardy, never faltering entirely, but never advancing as far as they could. “For her safety, for your stability? I’m willing to lead again.” If he asked her to run alone so that he would not have to lead again, she would consider even that, but together they were so much stronger. Evie believes in them. Enough to put herself out there once more, to fully emerge from a self-imposed exile and re-enter the world at last.

I'll be with you each and every night
Chasing that horizon in your eyes

Deimos

Eternally cautious and rarely optimistic, given life’s circumstances and the way it seemed intent on bludgeoning, Deimos couldn’t help the dread, the apprehension, and the consternation that came with the choice in trying. And though he could indulge in a half-smile at her initial quip, he had no intention of leading her down paths and trails of rubble and ruin. If it added to his fear, he didn’t say it, but it compelled the stoking of ambition and determination that remained steadily there, in the beat of his heart, next to tenacity, obstinance, and acts of sedition. “I suppose,” garnered a wrinkle to his nose, but he brought her fingers to his lips just the same, kissed them through gloves and cold. “Thank you,” for being willing alongside him, even if it brought turmoil and anguish to them both.

“True,” he admitted. That statement alone provided more relief – because if the citizens of Halo didn’t see them as worthy, then it wouldn’t matter at all. He glanced upward, relinquishing her fingers for a moment to place the forgotten flowers closer to the pedestals themselves, sigh into the grandeur. “A crown of avoidance should not sound so appealing,” the beast noted, by way of a tilted head and a low rumble of amusement, peeling back the layers of discomfort – supposing gratitude on her part again, for efforts of appeasement in the murmurs of anxiety. “Sticks, maybe.”

But in the seriousness, he could be too, compelled, and allowed, to lean his head against hers for a moment, the temptation tuck her under his jaw there – but the rumble of his tones coincided instead. “I do too.” A love of mountains and ice, of the fiery, steadfast blood below the angles and trappings of hardy, stubborn, ferocious people – inhabitants who faced danger every single day and laughed amongst the taverns about the adventures as if it couldn’t have ever been their last. “And they deserve some manner of strength again.” Not to deny any past Warden their brawn and might, but with Noah tied to demihood, Morgan’s waffling on neutrality and bent alliances, and Cordelia’s sudden decision, the dominion of the summits hadn’t reached full regard. “As long as we are willing to try,” was all he could immerse, and perhaps, silently, finally, speak towards the shrine itself. Please, do not let this be another mistake.

it's not the waking, it's the rising
It's the fire it ignites

Evie

The warmth of his breath as he kisses her hand threads itself into her veins, and the soft murmur of his gratitude inspires a contrasting it powerful certainty that sits heavy in her limbs. But her heart is light, and her fingers brush against his lips and curl beneath his jaw before he can pull back. “Of course,” she murmurs, because she knows he is still too scarred to believe in sentiments like ‘always’. Time is the only way she can prove words like those.

Their laughter is a little strained, a touch tired from heavy thoughts and worried minds, but what matters is that they laugh. The warmth of his tender kiss lingers even as his own hands depart to partake in restless maneuvers that Evie watches from his side. “Sticks, absolutely. Maybe palm fronds? Something really over the top, to mark such a momentous day.” Momentous in its lack of events, but that would only make it more humorous for the two of them.

Evie leans to meet him as his head tilts to bring their crowns together, two huddled shapes - shadow and fire - against the frozen ocean’s backdrop. Her own eyes close, because there are so few words left to say now. “And try we shall.” Anything else was simply not an option. Let this be the right path, she prays, and hopes that this time - with Frey’s eyes on her now - her plea is heard.

I'll be with you each and every night
Chasing that horizon in your eyes

Deimos

The image of palm fronds and sticks jutting out of makeshift crowns and encircling their heads like something out of the wilderness did elicit another laugh, even if the weight behind it seemed condemning and fraught. A heavy sigh intertwined again, before he rumbled his agreement. “Sticks and palm fronds. What a sight.”

And so they would try, and the citizens of Halo would determine the best course of action – in between silent pleas that the impending trials and tribulations not be so in vain. Eventually, they could unwind from the press of the shrines, lingering looks back at baubles, before casting their wakes towards mountains and summits once more, the notions kindled and incensed.

{FIN}

it's not the waking, it's the rising
It's the fire it ignites