Closed(ish) | Guarding Mr. Daisy

[lotusmesenpai]

Who: Sion, Lavi, Kanda & anyone they meet at the Summit
Where: Springhill Compound, Peace Summit
When: W6D2 - D6
Summary: Guarding Sion during the summit should be an easy warrant. Unfortunately, nothing with Sion is ever actually E A S Y.
Restrictions/Warnings: Kanda's fine command of language, as usual.

Comments

[sunderings]

And what of you?

[ 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. ]

/end like two weeks later, also couldn't resist

[inksplashes]

[ It's near impossible to ignore the words of someone sent in the wake of a retreat, though he considers it, the first step away faltering slightly, the pace too short.

(Keep moving, keep walking away--everyone around you will die away but the Bookmen live on.)

Lavi stops, though he doesn't turn his head back. Lets the words and the small puff of air brush over him in distant waves, their impact felt but their gravity mitigated by far celestial bodies. His shoulders square, denying the temptation to bow in defeat or weariness.

In the privacy of a turned back, Lavi pulls the bound books a little closer to his chest. His smile melts away, expression not quite cold but passively resigned. ]

...So it seems.

[ Somber, soft, the lilt of mourning there.

Lavi takes another step, away, free hand waving idly at his side. ]

At least for now.