lately delight has been up at night, finding the stars bring some clarity daylight evades. there's big feelings in him he's only starting to be able to put words to, but the words are frightening, and he doesn't know if it's even something he can name -- easier to hold it in for now. (at least until he can talk to seabreeze, because he suspects it'll be easiest to go through things with her, first).

tonight his wandering brings him into company -- lily, illuminated by the stars. a shooting star pulls his eyes across the expanse of the sky as he approaches, calling softly, "hi." he hasn't spoken to lily, really, since his return on the heels of alarian's departure. she represents -- complications. but she also probably knows, better than anyone else still here, what it's like to lose alarian, and she deserves more from him than shy avoidance.

she allows him to join her, kindly as always. her question brings an uneasy laugh out of him (really, isn't his status something of a joke by now? it should be), but he is genuine when he answers, "it's okay." he's making it work and that has to count for something, probably. 

sheepishly he adds, "sorry i've been, uh, sort of avoidant lately. it's a bad habit of mine when ... things aren't going well." an understandable one, or so he's been told, but it doesn't make it less of a burden on the wolves around him and he knows that. sometimes knowing that isn't enough to stop him, like watching yourself crash the car in an out of body experience. but he figures apologies never hurt, nor does actually trying, when he can manage it. enough about him! "how have you been?"

she's gracious enough to dismiss his apology; delight doesn't push it, not trying to drag out his one-boi pity party. "i'm getting there," he agrees, coming to take a seat beside her. if he knew her better he'd push her a little more -- fine! what an understatement, really -- but he doesn't know if that'd be going over a line. instead he watches her for a few moments and smiles, saying softly, "i'm glad to hear that." 

he's never been one to stargaze, though mato had given him a certain appreciation of the sky, and he knows olive cares for it, too. her words ring true anyway. "it really is," delight echoes, tracing aimless patterns with his eyes. there, a wolf-shaped smattering of stars. who would he name a constellation after? alarian? no, nor queenie. seabreeze, he thinks absently, and dismisses it. 

looking away from the stars, he gets up, stretching his legs -- not to leave, just restless. "lily," he says suddenly, "i'm glad you're still here."

it's the most she's spoken to him in one go -- he's had the sense she's chatty from their meetings, but it's sort of pleasant to be the sole subject of it. delight likes just being able to listen, nodding along with her, though what she says strikes him as sad. not in a pathetic way, but in a -- hm. what would it be like if he could go home? elysium is his home, sure, but how she means it. before he came here home. buried under ten feet of snow home. it's there, surely, and probably filled with skeletons, literally.

that strikes him as grimly amusing, and a sharp chuckle escapes him before he can help himself. "sorry," delight mumbles, his expression turning more somber at her question. "honestly," he says, sucking in a breath, "i couldn't leave seabreeze. not again." his love for alarian was no match against seabreeze; his reunion with her had kept him together and she'd been the one to nurse him back from death's door. she'd been the one to take in his children despite their ... more difficult tendencies. no, really, it'd been no contest. "i love her," he murmurs, "always have -- after everything we've both been through, i never want to let her go again."

embarrassed by his admission, delight stares at his paws, rather glad he's more or less hidden in the darkness despite the stars illumination. "and alarian was... capricious," he says, deciding on the word hesitantly, "not - he didn't mean to be, i don't think, but there's only so much my heart can take."

as the words leave his mouth he feels himself tensing, worried that speaking openly of alarian will ruin the moment, but lily seems to understand what he means. his expression softens. alarian was -- is -- an unstoppable force of nature, a magnet for chaos. being swept up in his hurricanes had been exhilirating at the best of times but mostly exhausting for delight, who is too quiet, too delicate, too boring for such affairs. 

 "i agree," he says, and then adds, a touch sheepishly, "that i belong here, i mean. and i'm glad i stayed too." overhead the stars seem so close and bright. a secret selfish part of him starts to think, if only mato could see this. he does not dwell on it. instead: "i'm going to try more," he starts, color flooding his cheeks, "to be present for -- for us. i can't keep letting everyone else -- i mean, i'm not a child anymore." maybe it's weird to make this declaration but -- lily is kind and, despite all appearances, he knows for a fact she brokers no bullshit. he suspects, hopefully, she will hold him to this, for elysium's sake.

he laughs, a breathless sound; as with before, his own thoughts, not lily's overly kind words (though he'll accept troubled). "thank you," delight murmurs, straightening. his thoughts drift to alarian, scattered fragments of memory, their time together. "i didn't either -- but at the same time, maybe i did?" he says, thoughtful, "in one way or another. i guess after someone almost dies on you more than once, you start to think something is inevitable, you know?" not necessarily leaving in the way he did, but some kind of leaving. he grimaces at himself. "sorry, that's a little cruel of me," he says, though he doesn't feel particularly sorry at the moment -- in fact, he feels a little embolded for admitting out loud the thoughts he'd been holding secretly since alarian's first brush with death. (and who can blame him? everything leaves in the end. like he told olive -- it's him, not them.)

except when he didn't, delight's own treacherous thoughts echo unknowingly. lily has a point in any case. the truth is often cruel in his experience--his existence has been somewhat cruel, if you'll indulge him the maudlin thought. in any case he doesn't have long to dwell on it, as lily rises. he's tired too, feeling it sink into him suddenly. straightening, the shiva nods and murmurs "good idea." his thoughts still swirl anxiously between his ears, but he thinks fatigue will win out in this case, and maybe he and lily can turn to slightly happier topics as they walk back.