driftfleet | huntress mingle

Entry tags:

huntress mingle

Who: Huntress residents + visitors
Broadcast: if you want!
Action: Huntress
When: until the next one? /o/

[Crew comes, crew goes! Half of them are invisible but that's normal at this point.

It's a mingle! Enjoy it!]

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[They had a few new people, and Keith was trying really hard to be okay with that. But it was stupidly hard to do that when he was feeling insanely less than social. He was coming to realize that it was definitely going to take some time to deal with the repercussions of what he'd almost done during his time back home (had he been back home? he still wasn't sure) and how things had changed for him in regards to the team and Voltron, but he was at least trying, right?

He'd be around the lounge, in his room, on the bridge at the pilot's station, or in the cargo bay with the punching bag.]

[Pete was trying his best to be social, but it definitely had mixed results. While he might make an effort to chat up anyone he came across- he had yet to get to know most of them after all, to say nothing of any visitors- he had a bad habit of secluding himself away in the lab. A self-replenishing laboratory to play with was kind of his dream come true, even if the variety to those unlimited supplies was much more limited in nature. Overall, he's taking to his assigned role pretty well! He even enjoys it!

Things he's not taking to well: the food. He kind of struggles to force it down, and every so often someone might find him using some of his allotted protein meals for various experiments in the lab. He also has yet to leave the ship to get himself a proper pair of shoes. Someone make this dweeb get his life in order already.]

[ooc: Other wild-card like scenarios are also fine! He's an inquisitive kid and kind of loves the hell out of science and space in general, so it's also a given he'll be exploring everywhere and inspecting all the things because GUYS YOU'RE IN SPACE DO YOU EVEN KNOW HOW COOL THAT IS?????]

[ Zaveid has never been much of a social person, and that doesn't change even with the newcomers to the fleet. Sure, he's friendly enough, but he doesn't go out of his way to go and chatter to humans in the same way that Sorey might; he doesn't need to eat, but he does wander around and snack sometimes, hovering here and there and generally making a nuisance out of himself and possibility irritating anyone who can see him. Someone has to do it, and with his pain from losing Dezel still rocking him... Well. He has to do something to keep his mind off it.

It's when the Christmas presents come that everything changes. The last gift he's had from home hasn't exactly been amazing - painful, to say the least, and he's glad he was able to pass it on to Eizen - and he takes the box and slips away with it, not quite daring to open it in public. Just in case.

He's glad he didn't.

When he opens the box the entire room seems to explode with gust and air, whipping around him as he slips into something a little less controlled, his heart racing in his chest. He puts it to one side and slips away, trying to calm his emotions - and anyone nearby, if they can see him or not, will definitely be aware of the wind that thrums through the room. It's only his concern for his plants and flowers that stops him from losing complete control and, instead, he makes his way to a wall and he punches it.

Zaveid keeps punching until it hurts, until something physical balances out the mental, punching and punching until he's sure that if he was human his bones would be mangled and shattered, breaking under the weight of his own strength. As it is they're sore and bruising, and he doesn't care. He feels sick and nauseous, shaking as he drops down to his knees, breathing out with his hair a tangled mass around him. He's close to losing it, to throwing up the scraps of food that he has eaten in the last few days, and he hates it. He's meant to be a seraphim, he's not meant to feel so human like this -

For the next few days he sits in a corner of his room, for the most part, staring at the dents in the wall where his hands had been. The box sits in the middle where he had opened it, one side of the lid flipped open, but the contents are hidden by a little bit of bright green paper, smelling of flowers and something soft and feminine. He wants to curl up with it, but he's afraid if he does the smell will disappear, so instead he sits and breathes it on the wind, pretending as though he isn't still crying. ]

[ After Dezel's loss he made a conscious effort to visit the Huntress more often, in part to keep an eye on Zaveid but Mikleo and Sorey as well. The blow surged something protective in him, an instinct that had always been there but now sat at the forefront more than ever before. It was why he was there the day the presents arrived, when the surge of wild wind pulls at his senses that makes his brow furrow.

Something is wrong.

Eizen is there, at Zaveid's room, before he had a moment to think on it, the thuds of flesh hitting metal resonating in his bones. He doesn't knock, he doesn't announce himself, pushing his way into the room and closing the door hard behind him. It's worse in there, the wind that rips through the room a perfect reflection of Zaveid's emotions. It's sharp against his skin, coat whipping around wildly, Eizen ignores it. ]

Zaveid.

[ There is no hesitation in his movements, in the way he crosses the floor until he is beside the other seraph, shielding him with his form. The other man is a mess, falling to pieces in a way he hasn't seen in hundreds of years, not since - Eizen looks over at the box, dread curling deep in his stomach. Shit.

Hands reach out grabbing shoulders to turn him from the wall, grip tight, grounding. ]

Hey, idiot. Cut it out before you hurt yourself.

Edited 2017-12-20 22:36 (UTC)

[ Zaveid keeps punching; he keeps slamming his fists into the wall, pushing himself harder and harder even as the wind curls around him. It's comforting, something for his mind to focus on, each slam of pain getting worse and worse the more he repeats. It's easier to focus on that, on the way his fingers burn and his knuckles ache, than it is to think about the box sitting in the middle of his room, innocent and plain, as if it hadn't turned his world upside down.

He barely notices Eizen come in, doesn't really pick up on his voice until there are hands grabbing at him. It's an anchor, something real, and the nausea prickles at him all over again. He twists, tugging even now, trying to get away, to get back to the methodical punch, punch, punch, something familiar to help him overcome the weight of his own emotions and hurt. He doesn't want Eizen to see him like this, doesn't want him to recognise his grief, but there's no undoing it. There's no going back when he feels as though he's falling apart.

They've been like this before. On a cliff edge, a dragon's dying cry echoing around them, a whisper of true names coming between them. Eizen was a rock, stalwart and strong, standing in the face of Zaveid's pain and rage and shouldering it all to free him. Here, again, he does it, over and over and over, and Zaveid knows how undeserving he is, how unworthy he is of such kindness, of such tenderness, of such warmth from someone he had shunned and ignored for so many months. He doesn't deserve anything Eizen gives him, but he drinks it in all the same.

Everything hurts, from his heart to his hands, and the noise he makes is mournful and broken. ]

Maybe that's what I was goin' for.

[ Voice a whisper, Zaveid lets his shaking arms drop down, lets Eizen move and manipulate him. The wind calms, a little, gusts brushing through their hair even as he shakes, trying to swallow it all back down. His eyes sting and his throat is sore and he wants to scream, but Eizen's grip on him is too tight, too secure, too real. ]

It's better that way.

[ He didn't need to look to know what is inside that box, what could make Zaveid fall apart like this, to sink back down into a despair hundreds of years old. A pain that never healed, because Zaveid never let those wounds heal, no matter how many years passed he carried them instead. Theodora, Silva, Dezel, Eizen himself. Each of them still sat there, wounds on his heart and his soul.

All Eizen can do is what he has always done, what he did on that cliff with the dragon's roar filling the air; wind and claw ripping at his skin, eyes burning deep into his back as Eizen struck Theodora down. He saved him once, freed him from a curse worse than his own, he'll save him again. ]

No, it isn't. You're going to make the others worry.

[ Forcefully he takes hold of Zaveid's hands, his grip like iron, the familiar glow of an arte surrounding them. It curls up from the pattern on beneath them, winding up and across Eizen's body before coalescing at their joined hands. The are is warm, reaching out to the pain in Zaveid's hands and soothing it, mending any cracks or tears to the other seraph. A warm gust of air that travels across their skin, carrying Eizen's earthy scent amongst the gusts of Zaveid's pain.

It's not much, a balm for the physical hurts, but there is no arte that can heal the heart.

Even after the glow subsides an his arte disperses, Eizen keeps hold on him, expression furrowed as the knuckles inside his gloves start to lose their color. ]

You know it isn't.

[ Sometimes, Zaveid thinks about how he had been, back then, chasing after a dragon and trying to protect it, protect the memory of the person he had known, and he thinks about how much he really hadn't changed over centuries of time. He had done the same thing for Eizen in the end, chasing him around, waiting until the very last moment of sanity and clarity had faded away. He pushed and pushed until there was nothing left, and it's a winding circle that he's been trapped in time and time again.

Eizen reaches for him and Zaveid doesn't know how to reach back. He's scared, afraid that if he lets go he's going to crumble and fall apart, give into the urge to break into pieces. He doesn't want to shatter in the way he had in front of Sorey all those months before, but at the same time... It's there, on the edge, one more step, one more nudge being enough to push him over, to break him and leave him desperate and needing to be put back together again. ]

They're always worrying.

[ Not that they don't have reason to when he acts like this. He barely pays attention when Eizen's hands go to his and the soft pulse of warm arte covers his fingers; Quickness, he recognises it, uses it himself these days. It's a memory, an aching reminder, and when he breathes in air he doesn't need all he can smell is Eizen, earthy and real and solid, the gentleness of his touch a balm to the broken whirlwind of the tempestuous spirit that Zaveid knows he is.

He doesn't deserve this. He doesn't deserve the kindness from someone he had been so cruel to for so long. Zaveid wants to cry all over again, but he pushes himself back into some kind of stronger state. He has to try. He has to. ]

I can't do it. I can't deal with it, Eizen, not again. Not anymore.

[ Even with all the years that separate them now Zaveid hasn't completely changed, part of the foolish malak he had spent so much time chasing down still remains. Broken, perhaps, in more pieces than he used to be, but there all the same. It's what breaks Eizen's heart, knowing despite saving him that day on the cliff, he fell back into the circle once again.

He never wanted Zaveid to punish himself for Eizen like he had with Theodora, then again he never wanted to get so attached that parting felt worse than the malevolence that surrounded him. He never wanted any of it, but he holds no regrets.

Eizen exhales a noise that is lost in the gust, features softening at the cracks forming in Zaveid's face. Those tiny things he learned how to read a long time ago. It only confirms his suspicions, stomach sinking as he spares a glance to the box in the center of the room.

Again, he says. I can't deal with it, Eizen, not again. Theodora, it has to be. Few things could tear him apart like this, few things affected as much as his former lover's loss of form and mind. He spent so much time, months, weeks, maybe even years, trying to protect that dragon even as she lashed out at him in rage. Eizen can remember the sound of Zaveid's pleas, begging him not to hurt her, not to kill her. ]

I know.

[ Fingers squeeze Zaveid's hands, gaze returning to the other seraph. ]

You don't have to. What do you want me to do?

[ With it, with him. ]

[ Time had been cruel to Zaveid and he's aware of it, all the mistakes and bad choices he'd made leading him up to one brutal, painful moment. It slams into him and makes him feel as though he is shattering, breaking, the urge to slump down and forward into Eizen's arms almost too much for him. He wants to feel safe again, wants to feel as though he's put together, somehow, without needing to rely on Sorey or Mikleo - he's sick of hurting them, just as much as he's sick of being hurt himself, of the pieces of his mind falling away one by one.

It won't be long, he'd told Sorey. He had been afraid, terrified of his own malevolence, and here, in a moment like this... He's reminded. It won't be long, can't be long, until his time comes, until he runs short. Maybe the only thing keeping him together these days is having Sorey as a vessel to keep him safe.

Jaw clenched tight, Zaveid swallows, forces himself to breathe, to try and find some calm, to summon whatever strength he has to push himself back into one solid being, to take control of himself and his powers. The wind dies down, slowly, into gentle breezes that push against their hair and skin, and he lets himself tilt his head, glancing up at Eizen as if he has all the answers, as if, somehow, he'll magically make this all better. ]

Someone's really got a grudge against me, huh.

[ The coat, the gun, Dezel and now this, bringing all the sharp, painful points of his life together over and over again. He turns his head to glance at the box but feels the nausea prickle at him again, churning in his stomach, and he has to turn away, eyes closing as he shakes his head. His hair is as short as it had been when he was younger, still growing back, and he wonders...

Does it make Eizen remember, too? ]

I dunno. I - I can't... I don't know what to do with any of it.

[ Horns. Scales. Body parts. Parts of Theodora's corpse. ]

It's just gonna be there.

[ It's a terrible thought, that one day Zaveid's luck will run out, his time all but spent. A thought Eizen doesn't dare entertain though he knows how likely it is to become reality. After all he's survived, all he has lived through, it is a surprise that Zaveid still has his own mind. Any other seraph would have turned into a dragon by now, losing all sense of self, but not Zaveid.

Eizen waits for the gust to settle, unwilling to let Zaveid's hands go, until it is little more than breeze that rustles through their hair. He waits, squeezing gently, silently offering himself as an anchor, a rock, whatever is needed for as long as it takes. He can't turn away from this, just like he couldn't turn away from Dezel's disappearance. He tries a smile but it doesn't sit right, it's tight against his face, forced in a way that betrays what lies underneath. ]

Yeah, wonder who you managed to piss off.

[ No one, everyone. Zaveid has as much of a knack for getting into trouble as he does, he wouldn't be surprised if he rubbed someone out there the wrong way. Eizen exhales briefly, looking to the box again then back to Zaveid with his shorter hair and barely held together expression. It's... nostalgic, makes him remember the cliff and the dragon and the names they had exchanged. ]

I can take it if you want me to.

[ And do what? He isn't sure yet. Take it as far from Zaveid as he can, so it doesn't hurt as much. ]

Or destroy it.

[So, they've done this song and dance before, and it always means something terrible or potentially gut-wrenching has happened to Zaveid. It's normal for him to be scarce - wind seraphim go where they please regardless of their emotional state, it's a Thing That Happens - but not like this.

Mikleo's not just going to wait outside the door and knock for once. He doesn't want Zaveid to fake it, doesn't want him to put on a brave front and pretend everything is fine when it so obviously isn't. He's cheating this time- using his elemental artes to flow through the door like a fine mist, appearing on the inner side as himself again. Little trick he'd picked up recently, through practice and by watching Zaveid and Dezel's wind-based disappearing act. He doesn't know what to expect, he just knows that he needs to see Zaveid as he is.

This might end up being a bad idea, but he can't stay away. It just feels wrong.]

Zaveid...

[ When Mikleo enters the room Zaveid has, at least, pulled himself together a little. The wall is still battered and beaten, but his knuckles have been healed and the worst of his anger has been laid bare, explosive and dangerous but, in the end, completely taken care of. There's nothing but his quiet sadness, and when Mikleo comes closer, when he says his name... Zaveid just hums quietly, nodding his head. He can't sit there and hide from it, not when he had promised to be better, to work harder, to lean on them. ]

I'm gonna need your help.

[ He looks over at the unsuspecting box, lighter now than it had been before. Eizen had taken the horn and promised to enshrine it, but the rest... Zaveid heaves a sigh, pushing himself up to his feet with a small, easy jump. ]

You think of any charms or jewellery that can be made of dragon scales?

Don't destroy it.

[ Those words come out faster than he can actually think about them, alarm colouring his features before Zaveid can recognise it for what it is. He doesn't want to see these last pieces of Theodora just gone, broken and shattered under the weight of his own pain - he wants to do something, at least, have something good come out of the misery. He just doesn't know what that is, yet, and his uncertainty makes him feel young and foolish.

Sometimes, that's what being around Eizen is like. Being young and foolish and uncertain, a turmoil of emotions, a minefield of feelings that he can't quite figure out, let alone begin to contemplate properly.

Their hands are still joined and Zaveid revels in it, lets himself take this moment of idle selfishness, of dragging Eizen down with him and burying himself in the hurt and the ache of being close to someone and so far all at once. Theodora is gone, Dezel is gone, but Eizen is here and Zaveid wants, suddenly, so desperately, for something he can't name nor put into words. It's a curling, buzzed desire that escapes him, and he shrugs it off for now; his pain is too complete for him to spend energy considering the impossible.

Instead, he breathes out, shaking his head and leaning close, resting himself against Eizen's body, firm and strong and unmoving, like the earth itself. ]

We gotta do something good. She'd like that. She'd have liked to be remembered for all the good stuff, not the crap.

[ It's surprising how quickly he rejects the suggestion to destroy the box and it's contents, yet at the same time it isn't. He was already certain Zaveid wouldn't want them destroyed, would want something done to honor the woman she had been. What, Eizen isn't sure of yet but already his mind churns through ideas of what could be done. They built him a grave on top of Rayflake, didn't they? Perhaps he could do something similar, somewhere high enough to catch the gentle breeze Zaveid's presence on the feel can bring.

The mountain.

His thoughts grind to a halt as Zaveid's head rests against him, their hands still joined, and he breathes in sharply. Suddenly Eizen becomes keenly aware of it, the warmth that radiates from him, the weight of him there, the connection of their hands. Something twists inside him, nameless and unknowable, an old want that rushes up to the surface almost overwhelming. Eizen breathes out, looking out over Zaveid's head, and pushes it down as he has done so many times before. ]

I could... [ Another breath, unnecessary, centering him solidly back in the moment. ] I could make her a shrine on top of Edna's mountain. Do you think she'd like that?

[ There's no way that Zaveid can just throw away the pieces of someone he had loved so much, even if it is disgusting and painful, leaving him feeling venomous and violent in its wake. He doesn't want to destroy the last pieces of someone he cared about with such passion and depth that he was prepared to die to keep her safe, to waste away defending a being that didn't recognise him nor the sound of his voice or the feel of his wind in the air. Faced with that choice again... He knows he can't make it, he can't give it up, just as much as he's sure Eizen knows too.

The sharp breath makes Zaveid tense, just a little, but he doesn't move away or let go. He's desperate for the connection, for the tenderness, the touch, and he clings with everything he has. He doesn't want the feeling of being alone right now, not when the haunting memories of pain and desperation are clinging to him, the wind on the edge of twisting into a tundra, a storm of emotion and hurt.

When the suggestion comes some of the tension in his shoulders settles, relaxing and slipping away, and he considers it. A shrine of some kind, something he'd never been able to do before, something real - maybe something he could visit, too, to pay his respects to her when the memories were too much and his mind was heavy with them all. He tilts his head, twisting against the fabric of Eizen's shirt, and then... He nods. ]

Yeah. Maybe take one of the horns up and - and give her somethin' there. I might ask Sorey if I can add the other to his one.

[ He knows, of course he does. Zaveid couldn't face that choice before, no matter how many times she struck out at him, no matter how it was slowly killing him to defend and keep her alive. It's in part why Eizen took it upon himself to kill her, to free Zaveid from the shackles that he had placed around himself. Even if it meant dooming himself to a similar fate.

Slowly one of his hands releases Zaveid's, hovering for a moment before resting upon the back of his head. It's a little awkward, the gesture, though attempting to be, perhaps, a little more comforting.

Tension he hadn't been aware of stars to melt away when Zaveid agrees, the feeling of his head moving against his chest almost distracting. A gloved hand threads through his fingers, making idle motions as it sits there. A horn, yeah, he could make something good enough for her, perhaps he can get Edna to help after he has explained the significance of it. He never told her about the dragon, about what happened on that cliff, maybe it's time he did. ]

What about the rest of it?

[Upon feeling Zaveid's distress Sorey had forced himself to sit still, to just listen and feel without darting off to his side. He doesn't feel as if he's weak, or in pain; something very troubling must have happened.

Eizen moves within his domain toward Zaveid's room and Sorey relaxes, book open on his lap as he stares into the middle distance, feeling things through his connection. It's probably obvious, all the poking and prodding he's doing, but when Eizen gets to Zaveid he forces himself to turn away. They should have some privacy, even from something as vague whatever it is he's doing.

It takes conscious effort, but Sorey restrains himself from hunting down Zaveid after that. Eizen spends a lot of time with him, and after that Mikleo goes to track him down too, not content to sit and wait. Sorey usually wouldn't be either, but this time he...does. He sits and he waits.

Wind seraphim flit and flutter. They travel, they titter, they move hither and thither, to and fro. Zaveid has been in his room for some time without moving, which is incredibly unusual, but for once Sorey doesn't want to push into his space.

Zaveid will come to him if he wants. And maybe- maybe this is a good time to request that. A good time to wait for Zaveid to sort himself out, to give him the distance and privacy he wants and wait for Zaveid to come to him. This sort of thing, learning to trust someone, it doesn't just take Zaveid's trust; Sorey has to trust that Zaveid will come to him as necessary, too.

So even though it's hard, Sorey waits for him. He tugs gently on their connection, just to let Zaveid know he's here, he knows something is wrong but he's willing to wait, and though he paces outside his door a few times on the verge of letting himself in, eventually he moves on. There are things to do on the ship. He won't go far until he's sure Zaveid really is okay.]

[Wow. The room looks... terrible, if he's being honest. The busted up wall - and the little smears of blood left in the wake of its destruction - tell a very dark and unhappy tale, and he takes it in quietly as Zaveid greets him, albeit more reserved than usual. The request for help is strange as well, and he's not going to complain, but it does set him somewhat on edge. If Zaveid is actually asking for help outright, it must be very bad indeed.

Mikleo stiffens at both the mention and the sight of dragon anything, though he does attempt to wrestle back his reaction, for Zaveid's sake. More than a year has passed, he ought to be over it, surely. (And yet here Zaveid is, a thousand years older, and it still gets to him.) The thought is comforting and terrifying, both. He can't imagine this feeling for a dozen years, nevermind a thousand.

Tentatively he shifts to get a closer look at the box, lips pursing into a fine line. The scales within are bright and glittering like crystal glass, surprisingly small considering the usual size of a dragon, though Theodora had been much smaller than Eizen. ...And so had he. Young, petite, still growing into one's power- what is it that decides the final size and shape of a fallen seraph?

He hates that those thoughts still spring to mind.]

...They're beautiful. Can... can I-?

[He half-reaches, not committing. He's not going to touch anything without Zaveid's permission, and truth be told, he might actually need a verbal urging to make himself do it. He wants to help, and if this is what is asked of him, then he wants to try. He's just not sure if he can yet.]

[ It's not a great scene and Zaveid is aware of it; it's messy, disgusting from where his hands were on the wall, a little blown apart by the sheer force of his wind, but he's calmer now. With Eizen coming and settling him, drawing his pain out like poison from a wound and leaving it to heal, to scab all over again... It's easier, he thinks. Eizen made it easier, and that's good enough for him, for now. He's learning to adjust.

He's not playing it off as much as he might have done in the past, with his emotions threadbare and broken. There's no way to ignore how much something hurts, no matter how long its been, and it hasn't been that long since the strange rooms with film-style memories. Zaveid knows he's shouldered too much sadness lately, but he's working forward, trying to stop it from weighing him down so much that he feels undone. He's better than this; stronger than it, too, especially with the others at his side.

Theodora hadn't been huge like Eizen, but she had still been terrifying in her beauty, in the way that Zaveid wanted to reach out and touch her even as she broke him down into pieces. He was burned alive, battered, bruised, and yet all he wanted was to touch her, to feel the scratch of her against his skin... He wanted to know she was alive. He wanted to know that she was still with him, even if she was a monster, even if she was far, far from her.

Humming, he tilts his head. ]

Sure. Eizen's already taken a bit.

[ Gonna enshrine it, he said, and Zaveid hopes it's gonna look okay. Hopes that Edna doesn't mind. Hopes that... It all works out. ]

[ Zaveid knows he's there.

He feels it the moment his emotions skyrocket - Sorey feels it, holding onto their connection like a tether, a lifeline, binding them, bringing them together, and he relishes it. It's something out of his control, unlike the wind and his anger, something that anchors him even when his spirit feels like it's being ripped apart. Sorey holds him, the broken pieces of himself threatening to fall apart and shatter, and he welcomes it, even when Eizen comes to do the same thing physically.

It helps. It helps more than he can say, and there aren't enough words to describe the weight of his feeling, the depth of his appreciation for what his Shepherd has done. It's more than he can ask for, in the end, and it makes something settle in his chest for a moment. He accepts it for what it is - an offer, but not a demand, Sorey saying that he is there and waiting but not suggesting that it is something that Zaveid has to do.

It's after Mikleo and Eizen have left that he finally gathers himself. He shifts, pushing himself up, sparing the box in his room one last glance before he sighs and picks it up. Folding the lid over the top doesn't make it easier to manage, but it helps, at least a little, and then he's able to make his way through the ship, to walk down to where Sorey is waiting, a gentle tug on his soul guiding him.

When he finds Sorey he's quiet, careful, before he breathes out and shifts, moving forward. Then he's moving to sit down opposite him, putting the box between them. ]

You can look.

[ Someone had to make the choice for him then - and that's why he made them all now, in the future. He was the one who defeated the Wyverns with Sorey, the ones that he had fought Velvet to save, he was the one who dragged them all up the mountainside to fight Eizen, in the end. He made that choice, to free Edna just like Eizen had freed him decades before. It was a curse, a brand, and it was painful to think about the damage that malevolence had done.

The touch to his head makes him shiver, leaning even closer against Eizen, tight and determined even as the pain causes knots in his stomach. His fingers grip at Eizen's clothes, his hands shake a little, but then he manages to breathe in and control himself, to calm, just enough. Enough that he doesn't feel as though he's going to fall apart all over again; Eizen's steadiness gives him strength.

In the end, he trusts Eizen to do what's right, to do something good; he puts his faith in the other seraph because there's no one else he would trust in the same way. He has the same tied up emotions for Sorey and Mikleo and the rest of his family, of course he does, a lifetime of faith wrapped up in a single human body, but with Eizen... Eizen links his worlds together, the past and the present, and it's almost too much.

Almost. ]

I... I'll ask the others. I'll figure it out.

[There's another moment of hesitation before Mikleo steels himself and reaches down to pull out one of the ivory scales. He turns it slowly between his fingers, taking in the weight, the feel of them, the way the artificial light reflects off of them. They look delicate but as expected of a dragon they're tough, sturdy, unbending to pressure. It'll be difficult to work with, but it's not like he usually shies away from a challenge.

It's... well, it's still dragon parts. He's wary of that aspect of the request. But with Zaveid like this... yeah, there's no way he's going to say no.]

I can give it a shot, yeah. Do you have a preference?

[Judging by the material and Zaveid's wardrobe, he has a few ideas, but better to check first.]

[ There's a part of him that feels weighed down with his guilt, asking Mikleo to help him with this - but he knows if he didn't ask and it came up later, somehow, that Mikleo would be just as frustrated at him for holding his tongue. Better to be honest and get it over and done with than to drag it out and ruffle more feathers, especially when they're already trying to mend their sadness after the loss of Dezel.

It's strange, seeing the scales flashing in the light, seeing someone else hold them and touch them, but it's a bit of a relief, too. It makes it more real - and it shares some of the burden. He's not the only one that has to deal with this, not the only one that has to try and figure out how to manage something as painful as scales and horns, and it makes Zaveid relax, some of his tension slipping away. ]

Just something I can feel, I guess. Something against my skin.

[ He frowns, crossing his arms. ]

I was thinking or a bracelet, or a ring, but I wasn't sure how it was gonna work.

[A bracelet or a ring... hmm. A ring might be unwieldy considering the size of the scales, but a bracelet could work. They have at least a few options, and there's just enough scales to piece some ideas together.

After a quiet moment, he nods to himself.]

Yeah... yeah, that'd work. [He lifts the single scale.] Can I hold on to this one? Keep the rest for now, until I know for sure that I'm able to work with it. I can only imagine that... she'd be happier if they were with you.

[ It's a lot to ask and Zaveid appreciates the fact that he can see how seriously Mikleo is taking it. It's not as though he expected anything else, all things considered, but it soothes some of the ruffled feathers, so to speak. It makes this easier, and he's surprised at how the weight has been lifted from his chest, something like relief settling over him. Even staring at the scales doesn't unbalance him the way it had done before, and he's not sure if that's because he doesn't want Mikleo to see it or if it's because he genuinely feels better. ]

Sure, take as long as you need.

[ Carefully, his eyes dart back to the box and he swallows. He wants to reach out and touch the scales again, for himself, to let his fingers press over the soft edges, but at the same time he's afraid that if he does he'll break them, somehow, and lose Theodora all over again. ]

I'm sure she'd wanna be close, yeah. [ But he continues, his voice softer and definitely fond now. ] She'd like you, though.

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