[ Lavi, who had been at Kanda's side during all the years Sion had missed. Lavi, who Kanda had been more than (and is still) habitually aware of as they ventured to Leith, the tenor of Lavi's voice catching Kanda's ears from afar even as he exchanged words (heartfelt, long overdue) with the Director himself. Lavi, who--... Kanda seemed uncertain of in the moments after Sion had said it would do you well to remember that you are not alone in play, responding in vague: so it seems, at least for now.
Kanda's sentiment, it is something which the Director comes to understand for himself in the here and now where Lavi nudges a shoulder against his own in a gesture, however evocative of apology, is still a brushing past; a ceding of ground which leaves Sion to a moment of quiet where he flexes the hand which once enveloped Lavi's own, fingers curling as he wonders at the sense of loss (nameless, fathomless) the other man had hidden behind the half-lit crescent of his smile. ]
Are you so transient— [ Always leaving, always drifting away, melding away into the shadows cast by others as though they could hope to cloak him, Lavi who--... ] —that you do not matter?
[ …had made the choice to stand by someone (a partner), to save someone (a stranger), and to smile in a way which made Sion's heart break—not on account of how wane the expression is, but because of how bright it had the potential to be.
(Moonlight is proof that light and darkness are forever intertwined; that from the pitch of shadow there may yet exist a gentle-strong glow which bathes everything, watching over the whole of humanity from afar, whether or not they are truly aware.)
A huff, almost annoyed, but much too gentle to be anything but good-natured: ] Don't sell yourself short, Lavi.
[ Here, the Director glances back over his shoulder, a slender brow lofted high as he wonders if a person like himself could ever truly be called something like 'precious'... ]
no subject
[ Lavi, who had been at Kanda's side during all the years Sion had missed. Lavi, who Kanda had been more than (and is still) habitually aware of as they ventured to Leith, the tenor of Lavi's voice catching Kanda's ears from afar even as he exchanged words (heartfelt, long overdue) with the Director himself. Lavi, who--... Kanda seemed uncertain of in the moments after Sion had said it would do you well to remember that you are not alone in play, responding in vague: so it seems, at least for now.
Kanda's sentiment, it is something which the Director comes to understand for himself in the here and now where Lavi nudges a shoulder against his own in a gesture, however evocative of apology, is still a brushing past; a ceding of ground which leaves Sion to a moment of quiet where he flexes the hand which once enveloped Lavi's own, fingers curling as he wonders at the sense of loss (nameless, fathomless) the other man had hidden behind the half-lit crescent of his smile. ]
Are you so transient— [ Always leaving, always drifting away, melding away into the shadows cast by others as though they could hope to cloak him, Lavi who--... ] —that you do not matter?
[ …had made the choice to stand by someone (a partner), to save someone (a stranger), and to smile in a way which made Sion's heart break—not on account of how wane the expression is, but because of how bright it had the potential to be.
(Moonlight is proof that light and darkness are forever intertwined; that from the pitch of shadow there may yet exist a gentle-strong glow which bathes everything, watching over the whole of humanity from afar, whether or not they are truly aware.)
A huff, almost annoyed, but much too gentle to be anything but good-natured: ] Don't sell yourself short, Lavi.
[ Here, the Director glances back over his shoulder, a slender brow lofted high as he wonders if a person like himself could ever truly be called something like 'precious'... ]
You're needed right where you are.
[ By Kanda, and by Sion, too. ]