[ His spirits accordingly lifted by the prospect of not dying in the Badlands with the whiny prince in tow--and then further elevated by the wonderfully ill-dressed woman who leads him to his "room"--Lavi spends that hour between pick up and meeting the ship's owner in rest and reprieve.
He does not, however, accept more than the offer of passage. Neither food nor water has been granted, though it was certainly offered, and his state of dehydration would show, no doubt, were he not so otherwise mired in the grime and blood of the desert.
Still, he was gracious when he declined, knowing full well not to cross a would-be savior lest he transfigure them into a potential enemy too soon. Gratitude he gives freely, trust he hoards.
(Not that he ever trusts in others, as a general rule. That burden is one Yu alone bears, and its weight is mighty despite its fractured core.)
When Takasugi comes knocking, Lavi is against the wall of the room, placing himself at the best vantage point to see vectors of approach. Settled on the floor, he looks--and truly well is--tired, darkness beneath his eyes and a faint tremor in his hands.
This he conceals with a press of fingers into fist, knee drawn up carefully in front of him despite the newly inflicted--and some reopened--lacerations along his ribs. Lifting his head, he regards the figure perched against the wall with an even stare, an easy smile.
An enemy after all, he thinks for a moment, but that's not quite right. That was another life. Another persona. How many people has he been since they last met? Aki was not a long-lived character, fading out of view as so many things in early childhood seem to do. What didn't fade, what burns in his memories now, are the flames of that night, the screams of it.
But even this now seems like a pale moment of time, just one of many that the gaze of adulthood strips of its romanticism and makes plain. ]
Guess someone just got real lucky and made a pact with Mother Nature. Or maybe it was a pact with too much Bliss?
[ He laughs, the sound warm and rich and well despite the pain the convulsions cause him. ]
I imagine the first makes for a better story, and the second more realistic.
[ A beat, a smooth transition, seemingly casual. ]
Appreciate the assist though. When will we be touching down to Old Town?
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He does not, however, accept more than the offer of passage. Neither food nor water has been granted, though it was certainly offered, and his state of dehydration would show, no doubt, were he not so otherwise mired in the grime and blood of the desert.
Still, he was gracious when he declined, knowing full well not to cross a would-be savior lest he transfigure them into a potential enemy too soon. Gratitude he gives freely, trust he hoards.
(Not that he ever trusts in others, as a general rule. That burden is one Yu alone bears, and its weight is mighty despite its fractured core.)
When Takasugi comes knocking, Lavi is against the wall of the room, placing himself at the best vantage point to see vectors of approach. Settled on the floor, he looks--and truly well is--tired, darkness beneath his eyes and a faint tremor in his hands.
This he conceals with a press of fingers into fist, knee drawn up carefully in front of him despite the newly inflicted--and some reopened--lacerations along his ribs. Lifting his head, he regards the figure perched against the wall with an even stare, an easy smile.
An enemy after all, he thinks for a moment, but that's not quite right. That was another life. Another persona. How many people has he been since they last met? Aki was not a long-lived character, fading out of view as so many things in early childhood seem to do. What didn't fade, what burns in his memories now, are the flames of that night, the screams of it.
But even this now seems like a pale moment of time, just one of many that the gaze of adulthood strips of its romanticism and makes plain. ]
Guess someone just got real lucky and made a pact with Mother Nature. Or maybe it was a pact with too much Bliss?
[ He laughs, the sound warm and rich and well despite the pain the convulsions cause him. ]
I imagine the first makes for a better story, and the second more realistic.
[ A beat, a smooth transition, seemingly casual. ]
Appreciate the assist though. When will we be touching down to Old Town?