how far i run

Everest

That seems...an unwise aphorism to follow, but Everest merely frowns inwardly. Having been given a task to complete, the young aviator's mind is already setting out mental parameters and preparations for how best to do what Mateo had asked of him; knowing it wouldn't help at all had absolutely no impact on well Everest intended to carry out his friend's request.

"That sounds very tedious." He hums of how Mateo had gone about creating his outfit. From anyone else's lips this would have sounded disparaging, but from Ever, it was his version of praise. But then they're onto the other thing, and the botanist will no doubt note how rigid his friend has gone at his side as he politely listens.

"Oh dear." Mention of Vai, of the ethics of letting someone die (vs. killing them, you understand), of the responsibility that comes from saving someone (wasn't there a proverb about once you saved a life, that life was now yours to take care of), and of course what felt like the worst and most dizzying of sins, being inappropriate, all made Everest feel very hot, and then cold, and then as if his feet had gone quite heavy while his head wanted to float away from his body.

"Are you alright now?"

I wish that I could find the words,
to tell you how much that it hurts
That I'm not who you wanted me to be

Mateo

"Yes," Mateo agrees about his outfit, though by the dimpled smile on his face, he understands very well the sentiment behind his friend's choice of words. "I enjoyed it." But of course all of the flowers are now back where they belong, or rehomed in the Celestine, and the sentient vines are once again creeping along in the canopies of his shop.

Humming a sound of vague agreement as he delves into the story of Soh and the man who had attempted to assault her, Mateo does raise his eyebrows at Ever at his question. "I am perfectly alright," he assures him. "It did not happen to me. I was just glad to be there to help."

In the distance, the bells in the Trinity Temple chime the hour, and the botanist starts suddenly. "Oh!" he says. "I reserved us a table in the White Hart... to celebrate." He winces. "Would you like to go anyway...?"

i've told you time and time again
i'm not as think as you drunk i am

Everest

"Mmmmm." Ever mmmms a touch doubtfully. In his mind, there wasn't always an important difference between just being present when something horrible had happened, and having it happen to you. But, he was inclined to trust his friend, if only because to think that he knew better than the botanist would be rude.

"Well.." Tugging a bit on the string of the balloon, the aviator hazards a small smile. "Now it's for condolences, right? So we can go to..condole?" He frowns, knowing that wasn't the write linguistic adaptation but thinking that the botanist would forgive him for it. Ever wouldn't, and he'd look up the appropriate word when he got home, but for now he simply nods and rises with his congratulations balloon in hand.

~FIN

I wish that I could find the words,
to tell you how much that it hurts
That I'm not who you wanted me to be