CHULANE
why do things happen with no reason or rhyme?
why does it feel like we're running out of time?
why does it feel like we're running out of time?
Still so new to this world, Chulane couldn't quite imagine just what they'd been through. Being new to loss, to grief… the trauma of it all, even though he hadn't been directly involved, was enough to shake him to his core. And so when Loren mentioned that he didn't want to had to his pain, he couldn't help but question it. His pain? Of all the things the healer was worried about, it wasn't his own sense of self preservation, but Chulane's. The vet did nothing but continue to eat, barely tasting the food that touched his tongue as he forcibly swallowed the stew and bread with minimal chewing.
He nodded at the appropriate points, whenever Loren looked to him, giving silent encouragement to continue speaking, even if tears rimmed his eyelids, even if his eyes took on a sheen, a gleam, brighter than usual from the emotion that swelled within him. Deimos had told him the story, but he had received it from Amalia - this was first hand recollection, and Chulane appreciate the depth of detail that Loren went into, sparing nothing.
The room around them was a blur, as he hyperfocused on the here and now, clinging to every word, letting each one paint an image of the setting, of each participant, of each action and reaction.
He'd stopped eating when Kiada's name was mentioned more and more, unable to swallow through the lump in his throat, the sob that wanted to escape, that he wouldn't allow out just yet. And even though Loren's gaze was downcast, not meeting his own,he waited and waited, patiently hearing every word as the other man was ready to deliver it, idly resting one hand on Astra's head, the other clutching to his empty spoon.
And when Loren said the words, he heard them echo over what Deimos had also said. She fell, to the lava, to be swallowed up in an instant. As the healer met his gaze once more, he did not shy away from it, but his eyes were brimming, his hands shaking. He released the spoon, and reached for Loren, to clutch his forearm, his hand, whatever he could reach. "Th-thank you." He managed, wanting to show strength in gratitude for what the other man endured in retelling his story, but he could not deny the waves of emotion that were rocking him, as tears stained his cheeks.
"I… you- I'm glad she was surrounded by people she knew, at least." Was he glad, in any sense of the word, truly? Not really, but it was all he think to say, in this moment of grief and retelling.
He nodded at the appropriate points, whenever Loren looked to him, giving silent encouragement to continue speaking, even if tears rimmed his eyelids, even if his eyes took on a sheen, a gleam, brighter than usual from the emotion that swelled within him. Deimos had told him the story, but he had received it from Amalia - this was first hand recollection, and Chulane appreciate the depth of detail that Loren went into, sparing nothing.
The room around them was a blur, as he hyperfocused on the here and now, clinging to every word, letting each one paint an image of the setting, of each participant, of each action and reaction.
He'd stopped eating when Kiada's name was mentioned more and more, unable to swallow through the lump in his throat, the sob that wanted to escape, that he wouldn't allow out just yet. And even though Loren's gaze was downcast, not meeting his own,he waited and waited, patiently hearing every word as the other man was ready to deliver it, idly resting one hand on Astra's head, the other clutching to his empty spoon.
And when Loren said the words, he heard them echo over what Deimos had also said. She fell, to the lava, to be swallowed up in an instant. As the healer met his gaze once more, he did not shy away from it, but his eyes were brimming, his hands shaking. He released the spoon, and reached for Loren, to clutch his forearm, his hand, whatever he could reach. "Th-thank you." He managed, wanting to show strength in gratitude for what the other man endured in retelling his story, but he could not deny the waves of emotion that were rocking him, as tears stained his cheeks.
"I… you- I'm glad she was surrounded by people she knew, at least." Was he glad, in any sense of the word, truly? Not really, but it was all he think to say, in this moment of grief and retelling.
how do we keep going, through the dark?
why are we here at all, lost in the dark?
why are we here at all, lost in the dark?
