Shining Trinkets of Grief

'Cause sometimes we don't really notice just how good it can get
so maybe we should start all over

His insistence is gentle but immovable, and it somehow slows the frantic beating of her heart, leaving a quiet sort of gratitude in its wake. She may not completely agree, but his faith in her is a sad, nostalgic thing she doesn't feel she deserves. But if he wants to give it, well...Hotaru is selfish enough to take it from him.

It shouldn't surprise her that she has misstepped. When doesn't she with him around? It pains her to have failed in her aimless hope to cheer him up, but they've both lost so much that anything outside of the realm of fleeting, dark humor can seem locked out of reach forever. Not something she had expected to discuss openly, but if anyone deserves to take the lead in this conversation it's Sunjata. Hotaru can't trust herself in those shoes.

"You know my outlook," she murmurs. "We only have two options. We move forward - even if we do not move on - or we give up." Now, her hands curl around her upper arms more like an embrace, chasing away the chill. He wasn't the only one who lost Nate, but Ru won't pretend she ever had anything close with either of them that could compare to what Nate and Sunjata had. It hurts to remember, but at least it keeps her in her place where she deserves to stay.

"You don't have to move on," she says quietly. "People will tell you to. You might tell yourself to. You might berate yourself, think you should at least move on physically - you're Frey's demigod after all," she utilizes his own words intentionally, because she can hear the self-recrimination and guilt there, "but what do they know? Time doesn't heal all wounds." It will never heal hers, so why would he be any different? So maybe he needs this version of logic instead - to hear the words people tell her, because they do not hold a lover's bond as hallowed as a mother's. Cruel, perhaps. Presumptuous, definitely. But Ru had seen them together. Maybe this is what really fits.

Glancing down and away, she shrugs, losing steam and conviction simultaneously. "Maybe it hurts less, but it doesn't go away. All you can do is adapt to maneuvering around without a necessary limb." Because it's not a scar. Scars don't cause phantom pain. Scars don't make you lurch up in bed only to fall flat because the arm that had once been there, that even in your nightmares you were sure you had, is no longer there. "Maybe that means you never have sex again - who does that hurt but you? And if it does hurt them, they didn't respect your choices anyway." Wanting something from him he cannot deliver. Hotaru can't say she is innocent in that, but maybe she needs to stop being selfish for once in her goddamn life.

start all over again

Hotaru

i was raised as a scorpion
being pulled by the moon in a high tide

It isn’t her fault to have misstepped. He knows that. He also knows her outlook when she begins to speak it, nodding his understanding as he repeats the last little bit (because gods he’s heard it fall from those full lips so many times over the years). “—move on – or we give up.” Almost in unison with her, his deeper voice trails off shortly after her own before he exhales a quiet sigh and finds his gaze returning to her despite the hard conversation, for once not wanting to hide himself as he bares himself to her because he knows she’ll understand.

She always has when it came to matters like this excluding godly intervention, of course, and it was something he’d always taken for granted. His lips part to speak, before he promptly clamps his mouth shut and works his jaw, the scar that widens his smile twisting slightly with the movement of the way he grinds his teeth. She glances down and away, continues to reach the parts of him that only she could seem to reach, and he nods – stepping away as much as it hurts him to, in order to sit atop the furs that line the bed, letting the wind dance across his back and flicker through his drying hair, wind that spins the feathered dangly earrings that had been a gift from Nate.

“You’re right.” He agrees, but it isn’t the whole crux of the issue. And he finds himself tilting his head up, peering at the ceiling from the bed, exposing his neck to her that only harbors the compasses and scar that dances down his main artery to beneath his clothes. “But I have no purpose otherwise.” It’s harder for him to admit, and he tilts his head down to scan her with a small sad smile. “I selfishly want comfort I can never get again. Not like I had. And everyone else now… I mean, they can offer it fleetingly and sparingly, but it’s not the same. It’s not like…” He cuts himself off, clearing his throat as it starts to feel like it’s filling with gravel to have to place this onto her, to say it aloud just as Isla had said the night before that he should tell her how he feels. And while it isn't exactly what he wants to say, he's never been good at his words, and he knows that Hotaru can read between the lines.

“With you.” Because you were there, you understand. You loved him just like I do still.

the flood

that's why i'm broken, yeah,
am i a villain or a saint?

'Cause sometimes we don't really notice just how good it can get
so maybe we should start all over

It makes her smile wryly to hear him echo her. Is she truly so firm in her ideals as to have unwittingly created a catchphrase? It certainly seems like it. Though she is under no illusions that simply repeating it will magically make Sunjata agree with her worldview. He is just as stubborn in his ways even if they are ways she cannot dream of understanding.

As he moves away she breathes again, something deeper than the shallow imitations she'd been filling her lungs with before. Except his scent lingers and billows around her the moment she inhales, and it makes her cramp inside with the intensity of her reaction to it, and then she must breathe through that, too. Ru is left standing there in the open air of the room, feeling small and out of place as he settles onto the bed. Watching from a distance for both of their sakes while she holds herself - whether she's holding herself back or holding herself together is unclear. Sunjata has always had a knack for making her come unglued.

There are plenty of things she might say about purpose and what it means, but she holds her tongue as his thoughts come spooling out like loose thread, piling on the floor and threatening to entangle them with one wrong move. And moments later she feels it, tight around her ankles and winding up her legs the moment he finishes his sentence.

Every bone in her body hurts, because she wants to take the words at face value, but she can't. "Do you mean that, really? Or am I just the closest reminder of him?" It's not accusatory in the least. In fact it's spoken rather softly, almost reservedly. "Because I never measured up to Nate." Not then and certainly not now. He'd been the best of them, and Hotaru had merely been a complementary instrument to the symphony they had between them. Delightful, but unnecessary. "I still see his eyes in Frey's face," she admits, gaze dropping away from his. "And yours, too. But are scraps worth...?" One hand rises off her bicep to wave vaguely, meaning all of this. Because Hotaru is just scraps, and the comfort he thinks he feels from her isn't something she's sure exists. Maybe her grief just feels familiar because they mourn the same man. Is that really healing?

Clearing her throat she finds his eyes again, cursing herself for her continual inability to hold them. "Sorry. I suppose that was presumptuous; assuming what you meant by that." Maybe he really just means he would like to have someone who knew, who had loved Nate the same way, to keep him company. To talk to, confide in. Maybe - like always - it's not about her.

start all over again

Hotaru

i was raised as a scorpion
being pulled by the moon in a high tide

Of course he means it. Though it seems like she tries to answer it for him, and he sits on the bed peering up at the ceiling, before he finds it in him to look back at her, open and bare and terrified because gods it has been so long since he’s gotten to open up like this. He’d already told Isla that he’d always love Hotaru. It was easy to offer up compared to this. And now? Face to face with the cunning and devastating woman? His nerves get the best of him, as if it weren’t the truth despite how long they’d isolated themselves and told themselves otherwise.

“I can’t see Frey without a blindfold.” He offers quietly. Not to cut her off or interject, just wanting to let her know that he agrees, even if he is a small amount surprised to hear that she sees him in his deity’s face still too.

He’s so dumbfounded as she continues, the mention of scraps before she catches herself and his head tips to the side, brows pinching yet again as confusion gleams in his freckled, scarred face. “We both love him.” His accented voice accentuates the word because there’s no part of him that’s ever stopped. “We both can’t compare to him. But neither can anyone else.” Maybe it’s presumptuous of him, too, to assume that Hotaru could never find another one like him, like Wessex.

“What I meant was that… I refuse to allow myself to love again.” And he pauses because he absolutely cannot look at her, his gaze dropping to focus on a small rainbow reflection from the window that sparks across the wall. “Nate was the last I allowed myself, and even then it took him wearing down my defenses and telling me he cared despite it all.. And you, you have been there through so many terrible things I put you through.” So many terrible things they had done to each other. “And there’s a part of me that will always love you despite everything else. It’s always been there alongside Nate. You’ve never left.” I can’t love again, but it’s different with you because I never really stopped loving you in the first place.

the flood

that's why i'm broken, yeah,
am i a villain or a saint?

'Cause sometimes we don't really notice just how good it can get
so maybe we should start all over

The fact he cannot see Frey at all only makes it more obvious to her the differences in where they stand. She may see mostly Nate in Frey's eyes, but he cannot bear it at all. So it's true that she still loves Nate. She always will. But, to her, the fact Frey's image is so amorphous beyond their eyes has always made Ru wonder if perhaps she cannot love anymore. If attraction has become something purely aesthetic, and her heart cannot feel enough for anyone anymore for even Frey's magic to detect and mirror.

Does that mean she has healed more than Sunjata? Or has she simply killed a part of her more efficiently, and carried on learning how to live without it?

Despite how many times she has dreamed it up in her head or awoken from slumber with those words in his voice ringing in her ears, she doesn't expect it to hurt to hear it in truth. It is a chaotic blend of emotion that burns up her throat and into her eyes, making them glassy and pink against her will. "I never stopped loving you. Either of you. I don't think I can." Standing adrift in the middle of the room, Hotaru tries to find something steady in her heart to stand upon and is left bereft. There is nothing to plant her feet on to buoy her out of these dark waters. "I can understand forgiving the rest because it doesn't seem to matter anymore compared to everything we've lost. Gods know it's all in the past for me."

Inhaling slowly, she tries not to give into the crying thing in her chest that has never wanted anything more than this - his forgiveness, his love. Their love, though that cannot exist anymore with Nate gone. "But I'm not the one who shut the last door. I was always here. So why now?" Because you're lonely? Because I'm convenient? You may love me, but if you never stopped, then why now? She genuinely wonders, because they've seen each other twice in two years. They've both changed so much. Here and now, Ru cannot see their reunion being anything more than drowning men clinging to life rings.

start all over again

Hotaru

i was raised as a scorpion
being pulled by the moon in a high tide

He doesn’t mean for it to come out like this – in brash, honest truths that bring the stinging to her eyes. It’s part of the reason why he still can’t look at her, can’t let himself see just how much his admission affects her. But her words are something he can’t avoid, not locked in an endless pit of nothing but ghosts anymore, and he works his jaw as he nods his agreement. Because he can’t either – its as much as he’d admitted to Isla. He always would. It wouldn’t change.

But as she mentions forgiving the rest, well, he agrees. The past was the past. And while a different version of Sunjata would pettily refrain from ever forgiving her for the things she did and never acknowledge his own part in it, this one is malleable. He’s tired of losing everyone.

Her questions are valid, too, even as he dips his chin a little lower, as if ashamed of the answer he so selfishly wishes to say. “You didn’t.” He agrees when she mentions that she wasn’t the one that closed the last door. And it takes him a few moments to gather the thoughts he wants to say, to make sure it’s exactly as he wants them to be. She’ll give him the time, he knows this.

“Because I needed to try and grieve and move on. And it took two years to realize how exactly stupid it had been. And I’ve been reminded recently that maybe I need to try and stitch up those connections I had before the war, for those that care.” Like Melita, like Bartholomew, like Isla even – despite that being her mind. He needed to realize and understand that people cared and he needed to try and let them in, to try and fix things.

“After the last time we spoke I wasn’t sure if you were…” Going to make it. Goes unsaid, but the implication is clear how destroyed they had been. Him, after Nate. Her, after Enzo and the bombshell of Nate. Not too far from here on the Ahi Coast, where the waves were just as tempting to lose themselves in forever rather than try and figure out this new future. “And I can’t go to Halo.” Not with Deimos there. Sure, he could have sent a letter, but how was he to know that she’d even harbor the same feelings? How was he to know that maybe she wanted to cut her losses and move on once she got a handle on things while he remained empty and hopeless, a dark splotch of ink over the pages of pristine fresh paper.

So, he clears his throat and focuses on her, taking all of his willpower to do it, huffing an unamused laugh that only sounds sad. “I am a shell now, Hotaru. Who wants to deal with that?” He doesn’t want to be a burden placed on someone else just because he’ll never stop grieving. But gods, is he selfish, selfish, selfish.

the flood

that's why i'm broken, yeah,
am i a villain or a saint?

'Cause sometimes we don't really notice just how good it can get
so maybe we should start all over

The admission is everything she has wanted to hear for years now. Well before the war ever started. Perhaps not an apology as she may have dreamed, but those two little words give her closure she didn't know she was still waiting on. And while she has never wanted to hurt him, those years of pain may have been forgiven, but they have not been forgotten.

"I care," she murmurs, because she would never rebuff his attempts at healing the damage that had been done between them. Not if they were sincere. "But are you really moving on? My own feelings aside -" because she can't let them interfere here, she can't, even if someone else might say something pithy and cliche such as follow your heart, "- how is reaching for the last person you ever loved healing?" The prospect of coming together again should have her heart racing with anticipation, but instead, she only feels cold. If Maea were alive, would he ask her this? Any of the others he had loved in their short time? Perhaps Hotaru had been longer, or more serious, or any other excuse that he could conjure to appease her - but how can she know? How can she trust him?

All may have been forgiven, but in its place trust has not magically bloomed.

Ru would trust him with her life, but her heart is a different matter.

Except it doesn't end there. He sounds sad, she thinks. Defeated. What she had privately dreamed to be a painful but altogether positive moment is shrouded by the hurt she can see emanating off of him. It makes her realize that maybe that dream has always been out of reach, kept alive only by leeching off the feelings she has never managed to pry out of her heart.

“I am a shell now, Hotaru. Who wants to deal with that?”

"So you would condemn me alongside you? You think I deserve to deal with that, but nobody else?" Her arms tighten around herself; this time, she can't pretend it's anything but a restraint that keeps her from throwing all self-preservation to the wind to throw herself into his arms. "Every day I try to be better than the one before. I'm trying to heal too. And frankly I think you know that I love you, and that I would do most anything for you, sometimes against my better judgment." Her voice trembles, because it is the hardest boundary she has ever had to notch into the sand but it might be all that saves her from backsliding and losing all the hard-won progress she has made. "But how is that not still using me, to count on that?"

Crossing the distance between them is a dangerous thing to do, but as Hotaru sinks to her knees in front of him and reaches up to touch his face, she prays she will have the strength to retain her presence of mind. "Sunjata Wrenzoak, I have loved you as long as I've known you. But I want to see you truly heal. And I don't think that's what this is." At least not right now. Not if he still sees himself as a shell, a burden. And he always has, but this is different. She can sense it. "If you see yourself as a weight, as a curse, then why would you wish it upon me? Someone you love?" Why not prove to me you want to be something more than this?

start all over again

Hotaru

i was raised as a scorpion
being pulled by the moon in a high tide

He knows she cares. It’s why he’s telling her this in the first place, because if he didn’t think that she did, then this conversation would have been strictly business – but his wrist seems to burn from where she’d touched it the night before, and even as she says my own feelings aside, he knows that she’s right. Because he can’t heal. He doesn’t know how. Frey has tried to show him, tried to tell him that things would get easier and each day he wakes up and tries so desperately to be something fulfilled and whole again, only to fall into bed that very same night, drained of every hopeless optimism he’d tried to shove into his missing pieces.

He's always been a pessimist, though, none of that is new. “I don’t know.” He admits, rather than trying to fill that answer with something thought out and smart. It’s empty, just as he tells her exactly how empty he’s become. A puppet, yet again, but this time for his own aimless wanderings, a soul cleaved more than once, and all that’s left is the little pinprick of hope that – as he realizes rather abruptly – has been squandered by the very question Isla had asked of him last night.

“No, but—” She isn’t done, yet, and he draws silent as his lips seal, as his jaw tightens and he can’t help but to watch her despite how many mixed signals he receives, with the way her words hurt despite it being exactly the reason he’d avoided her for so long, while she simultaneously kneels in front of him and that warm, fiery touch finds his face, surprisingly cold amongst the heat of the day.

He knows she’d do most anything for him, and it terrifies him. Because after everything, there’s still that kindle of love that blindsides, and he can’t help but to tilt his head into her hand just as he’d done the night before, shutting his eyes to keep from having to watch the way he’s ruined the day so fucking early in the morning.

“I have always seen myself as a curse. It’s why I distance myself and pull away and stay hidden in the Refuge for over a year since the walls lifted.” A tiny admission – that when he’d teased her the night before about being a hermit, he’d done nothing but the same. Only, instead of having the Halovians around to help, he’d had no one. Nothing but his shifts prowling under his skin to remind him when he needed to eat.

“I don’t want to put this on you. I’m not asking for anything. I only wanted to tell you that despite everything, I still care, and I still love you.” He nearly chokes on the word love but he pushes on. He’s not asking for her hand in anything. He’s simply trying to let her know that maybe in the dark moments when Halo’s sun hasn’t risen at the dawn, that she wouldn’t lie awake at night and wonder if he felt anything for her too.

Heaving a quiet sigh, his gaze opens to find her face, no mask to be found but the very same young Attuned that had met her not too long after she’d arrived before everything started to fall apart again. “I don’t know if I can ever heal from it. I’m… Surprised I’ve made it this far, to be honest. But I am trying to be better, even if the idea of healing is impossible. I’m trying to repair everything I’ve broken.” Everything except for himself, it seems. A martyr to his feelings, trying to save everything else at a cost to him.

His jaw works only a fraction more before he sniffs, as if trying to draw himself out of that hopeless spiral again, but it’s evidenced by the blue feathers that start to poke up and sprout against his neck, filling in the tattoos that drift below his shirt collar. “Nothing has to come of it. I don’t expect or want anything from it. I just want to know that even though it feels like everything is still lost, that I haven’t lost you too.” And maybe he has. And if he has, there wouldn’t be any hard feelings. He understands.

But where there’s the hope she has of the fire of him trying to prove to her that he wants to be more? He has no words for it. He’s always going to be made of broken shards of glass and murky, oil-slick ghosts. And too much has happened for him to ever think that he might be whole again, with or without Hotaru.

He’d once owned a boxing ring not too far from this Inn. The very same one she had burned to the ground. And yet, the time to fight for anything has long since passed with the failure of the war, the failure on him to protect the ones he cared about the most. He'd failed time and time again, in Korofi and here.

And the only way he can see himself trying to get better is simply getting back up, staying in his lane, head down, mouth shut, and paying for all the grievances he's caused in his fruitless attempts to change the past. “I'm sorry if that isn't what you wanted to hear.”

the flood

that's why i'm broken, yeah,
am i a villain or a saint?

'Cause sometimes we don't really notice just how good it can get
so maybe we should start all over

It's not what she had expected to hear, which is a good thing. On the outside people may call her cruel for pushing, insisting, utilizing her words in a way that make this harder and more painful. Those people could fuck themselves. With how much history stands between them, saying words like I love you hold more than just weight, they hold change.

So this time, it's his turn to talk. To be on the back foot. And she will sit here on her knees with her thumb gently brushing his cheek, supportive but silent. No empty promises or rushed decisions here. Their edges are too raw to risk shattering them against hastily built foundations.

When he is finished she maneuvers to sit beside him, and lays her hand palm up on his thigh for him to take if he needs. Now that she knows what he wants and where he's coming from, her defenses can lower. "I can work with that," she murmurs, and tries for a smile. Something hopeful if also a little scared. Aware that she will need to keep herself in check if she is to hold his hand through this, if they are going to bury the hatchet once and for all.

"If you want to heal, if you want to mend things, and you think this will help? That I can help, in some small way? Then okay. You have me - I'm on board." Because Hotaru cannot stop on her own journey lest she stop forever, but if he needs her? Hell, merely wants her here to help him keep putting one foot in front of the other? Then that's all she needs to know.

"Because I care too. And I love you. And neither of us needs to be alone anymore." They can take it one day at a time. Letters, seeing each other more than once per year, her pending visit to the brothel once the hotsprings are complete. Baby steps - because they aren't really capable of much more. Tilting her head to rest her cheek on his shoulder, Ru marvels at how the hurt has abated inside. He wasn't asking for something she couldn't give, at least not yet, and it would be disingenuous to assume that might change (although, realistically, it very well could). "At least Kings End is closer than Torchline," she murmurs against his shirt, hiccuping a small laugh in the vain hopes of making him do the same.

start all over again

Hotaru

i was raised as a scorpion
being pulled by the moon in a high tide

It’s mixed signals, really, with the way he’s answered her questions and feeling not unlike someone that’s failed a test. But he’s come to terms with it, and like he said — he doesn’t want anything. If she pushed him out the door from his admission, he would understand, has already said as much.

She doesn’t say anything, though, lets him get his words out in his own time just as she had the knack to do, and when he’s done and uncertain, on that slippery slope of deciding whether or not he’s made a mistake in admitting everything he felt.

She moves beside him, though, her hand leaving his face in a way that feels somehow even colder than the subject matter. But it settles on his thigh and he does reach out for it, the offering there, and tilts his head to listen to her, feathers ruffling as he moves. “You can?” He asks, the surprise whispering out of his voice, brows pinching as he turns to look at her.

He exhales a shuddering breath, nodding and out of words, at least until she mentions King’s End being closer than Torchline, and he does manage to crack a smile, sighing a soft laugh as her head presses against his shoulder. “Not by much, but it is something.” He agrees softly, smiling a gentler smile than he has before as his head tilts to press his cheek to the top of Hotaru’s head, swapping his hand that holds her own for the other so he can wrap his arm around her and pull her into his chest.

“So, how are we going to start?” He wants to try, but he doesn’t know where to even begin.

the flood

that's why i'm broken, yeah,
am i a villain or a saint?

'Cause sometimes we don't really notice just how good it can get
so maybe we should start all over

His surprise makes her shoulders shake slightly as if meaning to laugh, but little noise comes out. Emotions too fraught to make way for humor, because she has been in his shoes and knows it's not really funny; staring up at the axe and wondering why it isn't coming down, but waiting for the rope to snap belatedly because you can't dare to hope. As his hand takes hers, Hotaru squeezes it gently. She may not be able to break him physically, but that doesn't mean Sunjata doesn't deserve to be touched gently. "I can," she repeats softly, knowing he might need to hear it out loud a second time.

As his head tilts against hers, keeping her comfortably pressed up against his shoulders, she drinks in the shake of it as he laughs and lets her own heart slow and settle at last. Leaning her body weight into him without fear that he won't be able to hold her up, she pulls her legs up onto the bed to get comfortable against his side. The first step is taking their time.

"With this," she murmurs. "We order room service and leave the rest of the world out there where it belongs." Far away from the tentative beginnings of whatever this is. "And then I visit you in King's End like I promised, and again after Frey's mission is done. In between, you send me letters and I do the same." Maybe she's reading this wrong, but she thinks he needs her to guide them a little bit here, give them structure and goals to achieve while they muddle their way through the rest.

start all over again

Hotaru

i was raised as a scorpion
being pulled by the moon in a high tide

He does need to hear it out loud a second time to believe that she means it. And it offers some bolster of relief to his mind as he tilts his head against hers, keeping her pressed in against his shoulder as he chuckles slightly, letting her lean against him even if these days he felt more like a jagged, stationary rock – reminded so by the way her body softly presses against his.

She’s absolutely correct when it comes to her needing to guide him – but she was often right in instances where Sunjata let his heart and fears get ahead of his mind, acting out irrationally due to the fact that he was always so terrified of things not going right he felt like he needed to immediately do whatever it was to prevent it. And more often than not, it ended up being more trouble in the long run for attempts that weren’t even worth it.

“Alright.” He breathes softly, giving her shoulders a squeeze with the arm that wraps around them. “Should I send the letters to the academy?” He asks, getting ahead of himself as another soft little breathy laugh leaves him. “And what would you like for room service?” Now, without the fear of rejection, he thinks he could likely eat something finally.

the flood

that's why i'm broken, yeah,
am i a villain or a saint?

'Cause sometimes we don't really notice just how good it can get
so maybe we should start all over

Normally her control is far better when it comes to concealing her shifts - not the type to let their signs come and go like he does - but with her guard sinking into nothingness she doesn't hold back the golden ears that peek through her hair until they flick against his cheek from the crown of her head.

It feels a little too easy, but maybe they need that right now. They'll surely have hurdles to tackle as they navigate their newly combined futures. Why not be grateful for the simplicity now?  

"The Academy works. I moved last year." Down the street from Deimos, and to a house that does not have her name emblazoned on it for missives and letters, hoping to disappear in plain sight. Usually only Flora writes her so it has yet to be a problem that the Academy's presence can't fix. But admitting something small but still secretive feels like a baby step with him even if he'd never known her residence in the first place given she'd only secured it after they'd parted. "Something sweet. Surprise me?" She moves away just enough to run the bridge of her nose up his cheek, nudging him in a feline headbutt before tucking her legs up onto the bed beside her to lounge more comfortably while he goes to order their food. If this is how it feels to allow woman and animal to merge, it's no surprise he does it so often. Everything feels a little easier with the cat's mind to balance out her human emotions.

start all over again

Hotaru

i was raised as a scorpion
being pulled by the moon in a high tide

The tuft of gold that feels like velvet brushing along his stubbled cheek is a slight surprise, but a welcome one. One that has him almost giving into the panther shift under his skin – suddenly wondering if hunting with her would be another good memory to go alongside the times Nate had shared his shift to do the same. But it’s too far ahead, too many plans made, and he sets it aside in his mind to think on for a later date, instead squeezing her a little bit tighter as he hums a nod.

He didn’t know where she lived, didn’t know that she moved – but he’d moved a few times since as well. One, at least in the recent year too, from the hole of the refuge into the brothel that seemed to at least be bustling with life these days. “Academy it is.” He agrees, and when she goes to answer his second question, he feels the gentle head-butt of a touch and his hand lifts to run through her golden hair, nuzzling his cheek in slightly in return, before he stands to slip out.

It doesn’t take him long, however, returning with a platter with a few plates atop it. One, topped with a few chocolate drizzled croissants (sweeter than the one she’d started eating and left on the balcony before retrieving it from a potential rogue Hel), pancakes with a sugary, bourbon-like syrup, and some eggs. It’s complete with silverware and two cups of warm coffee (because tea wasn’t quite as popular in Torchline these days, but an abundance of coffee always seemed in season), sweetened up the way he remembers she liked it, flashing her an easier smile now that his macaw feathers have tucked themselves away again and he seems a bit more in control of his emotions. “Want to eat on the balcony?” He’s sure they can hold their own against the attempted attack of hungry birds.

the flood

that's why i'm broken, yeah,
am i a villain or a saint?