Autumn mists hung like cobwebs, or strands or raw silk--

[crimson_seeker]

Characters: Huo (getsome_sleep) and Hawk (crimson_seeker)
Date/Time: [BACKDATED] Sunday 9 October, early evening
Location: Ancient Chinese House, Melee Island
Rating: PG-ish
Summary: It starts with a discovery in the Scavengers' Yard and will probably again spin off into parts unknown. Likely destinations include the abduction plot, Orca, the Sphere's fate, and other such

Comments

[crimson_seeker]

Hawk withdrew his hands and left Huo holding the fan. It was curious, watching the twitches of conflicting emotion in Huo's bearing; the ire he nursed warred with whatever gentler, brighter mood Hawk's discovery had woken in him.

What is it? Hawk had been bitterly furious himself, for those three endless days the medics had been held captive and the islands had been overrun with beasts of every shape and size. To have Stellaris--and the others--returned had thawed some of his anger, but he thought he understood why Huo clung to his own. Orca had failed in his plan. Fugue had died, and now, the creeping signs of decay in Edensphere were only gaining speed.

And Huo, in some way, blamed himself, set himself against the forces that decreed their fate and declared himself their equal or at least one to defy them with impunity.

Hawk bowed his head, leaned closer; not near enough to touch, but so that his quiet voice would carry. "You don't sound too glad about that. Should I take it back, then?"

[getsome_sleep]

"What?" Honest surprise colored Huo's voice as his gaze shifted, down to the fan and again back up to his brother's face - truly seeing Hawk for perhaps the first time and glimpsing his thoughts. He felt foolish and a touch guilty, suddenly, for darkening what must have been a happy occasion for the other, a minor but meaningful success. Even a small joy was a joy, when otherwise there was so little joy to be had.

Better that Hawk be joyful while he could. Better that Huo, alone -

No.

"I am sorry," he answered quietly, the plainness of the phrasing conveying the truth of the sentiment. "This is not, I know, the appropriate response. It is most certainly something to be glad over." Honest as they were, the words still rang hollow to him. Frustration built upon frustration; he knew that cycle well. "But I am not inclined toward gladness at the moment."

[crimson_seeker]

Some caprice of the place had led him not only to his own chosen weapon, but to Huo's fan, as well. Had the situation been different, that would have amused Hawk, in a way. Now the barb of his question had done its work and pierced, if only for a fractional moment, the black cloud of anger and--so Hawk guessed--self-recrimination around his friend.

"I have noticed," he said, not truly inclined to put on any pretended courtesies. Neither of them could have been very easy to live with recently, though with each of them wrapped up in his own duties and endeavours, there had been no time for them to drift into any potential loggerheads, either.

"You haven't been so for a good while now." Hawk leaned away, straightening his back after having sat hunched over his work. "And neither was I. But it's over. The battle is done--or at least most others than you have stopped waging it."

[getsome_sleep]

That was well put, Huo could not deny; right to the mark, as Hawk usually was. Most others than I, indeed. He knew that Hawk had not meant it as a sting, but it stung nonetheless. Most others who still do not comprehend what is it that we have lost. Who even now went about their routine, trying to eke out happiness for whatever little time remained for them, while he still fought tooth and claw...

"The battle is done." His voice was dark and heavy, "and we have lost, and so the war goes against us. It is the foolish strategist, indeed, who rests after a battle rather than prepare for the inevitable next."

That was not kindly said, he knew at once; but however harsh, he knew that he meant these words. This was hardly the first time that they had spoken of it as a war. Lives were at stake. And he would not lie to Hawk, nor seek anymore to shoulder all his troubles alone.

... I am so sorry I could not help it

[crimson_seeker]

So it went: once out of immediate danger, most people were content to return to the lulling rhythms of their lives and believe that the storm had passed, even when the facts said otherwise. Hawk could not particularly fault them. He knew he had given up all chance at a normal life once, but that didn't mean he was unfamiliar with the yearning for it; to settle, work, sleep and be, and not shoulder the cares of the wider world