Dragoncrest Cliffs Arowana

;O;

"De bird...Does 'e 'ave a c-crooked leg?"

he did not know why it mattered. only that it did matter. apparently deeply to his niece. quennell was faced with the chance to lie. to tell her they did that to the leg. that there were a million birds with a million crooked legs.

quennell dahomey-rivaini was a lot of things.

he was not a liar.

it only took him a quick glimpse to confirm it for himself, a heavy pause before he confirmed it for her. it do... and his features sagged all at once. knowing no amount of apologizing or gift giving might make this up to her.

the bird had been important in some way or another.

irreplaceable.

She knew it before he said it. And she realized then, how it had been perhaps more cruel of her, than anything, to have set the bird free the day she'd found it with its foot wedged between two pieces of driftwood. She'd fed it, made it accustomed to her presence, but she'd thought perhaps it would trust only her. She'd spared it a death, but had brought one upon it still; and she felt both helpless and useless all at once. 

She burrowed her nose into the crook of her forelimbs and for some time, sobbed. She trusted Quennell, but eventually she wanted to see for herself, and when she rose to look and confirm the leg for herself, she found herself flooded with grief once more, and clutched the bird close to her, carefully and gently, crying into its soft feathers. 

When she caught her breath a bit, she spoke, though her voice trembled. "I saved 'im. 'E had his foot stuck, one day, an' I set 'im free...An' since den, 'e be watchin' over me, sharing bits of my food." She said. 

Tu deviens responsable pour toujours de ce que tu as apprivoisé.

She didn't know the expression, but if she had, she would have realized its meaning. 

"I t'ought if I forgave 'im, per'aps de ot'er bird would bring Requiem back...An' den we found 'im, an I thought...but...Now dis bird, e....'E be gone too." Her mother's lessons about the sea giving and taking had never been more true than they were now.

quennell had not grappled grief before.

in fact, last time things had become so sad, he had gone down the coast. a wordless adventure wandering and when he had come home things had seemed so much better.

he couldn't do that here.

not like swordfish just had, not like he himself had once before.

his own gaze stung some. he felt all the welling of a million sorries on the tip of his tongue, but he could not speak any of them. not yet. she talked about requiem coming back and quennell wondered all at once if the sea was swallowing him whole. the guilt felt like it. he had no control of the situation, the sadness, the hope he had crushed much like the bird had been.

we din' know, suzu... and they hadn't. just a couple of boys, hunting what they thought the sea had given them. only suzu had given it to them by virtue of kindness. kindness that they had taken advantage of without even knowing.

we can...we can do whatcha want wit' 'im. maybe de meadow? or-or keep 'im — he didn't realize that he sniffled now. nearer de sea.

They didn't know. Of course they didn't, and she hadn't been there soon enough to stop them. She hadn't shared her secret with anyone, save for Etienne who might've had some idea that she'd become attached to one particular gull. She knew she couldn't hold a grudge against him, and she could tell that Quennell felt sorry, too. She sniffed, and lifted herself up, to touch the crown of her head against his shoulder. Forgiveness hurt, and it was hard. She wasn't sure she really did forgive him, as the grief still gouged her heart. But he was trying, and his suggestion that they do something honourable for the bird touched her. 

He could have insisted that she'd been foolish to befriend a bird. He could have insisted that they eat it and not let it go to waste- but instead, he validated her feelings, and the friendship she'd made, unlike Swordfish, who had abandoned the situation as soon as it had become too much for him. 

"We return 'im to de sea." She said quietly, and sniffled. "I t'ink...Dat be best. In a way, it created a balance. She owed a debt, she felt, and this had been what nature had come to collect. She stood up, and frowned with trembling lips as she looked down at the gull. It frightened her to see its eyes, staring but not seeing. "Will you come wid me?" She asked. She would carry the gull, but she wanted someone to wade in with her, and keep her steady.

o' course.

there could be no other option. this he realized as he too stood and looked upon the bird. intended to be a meal, meant to be a friend, now returned back to the sea. deeply he wished to wrap up suzu in comfort, when she had touched his shoulder, but this must be done. there was work left to do to begin a healing path.

in the back of his throat, he hummed soft and low. a lullaby he did not remember the words to by any means. he only knew that it felt right.

a song as they prepared to send the bird out to sea.

The funeral procession was small, but poignant. Carefully, Suzu picked up the bird and carried it as gently as a mother might carry a newborn, walking to the gentle beat of Quennell's lullaby. Side by side, they stepped into the surf, and she felt her breath hitch in her throat. She wasn't sure she could do this- but she had to. Quennell's voice soothed her, and smothered the last flicker of anger in her chest. 

When the water came up to her knees, she turned her head, motioning for Quennell to remain back a few paces so that she could release the bird on her own. She waded in until the seafoam came up to her shoulders, but she did not shudder at the cold. The water rose in a surge, and swept a cool wave across her shoulders. She steadied herself, and pushed against the pull of the water, allowing the gull to slip from her grasp as the swell recoiled. Amid the frothy seafoam, the gull disappeared. While she felt as if the ocean had taken something from her, the waves rolled on, rocking back and forth, aloof as a wordless god. 

She turned and waded back to Quennell, and stood for a few moments at his side to grieve.

could be a fade ;;

he moved with her, each step and paddle.

when she needed her space, he gave it just as easy. floating in the waves that pushed against his chest as she set her bird free. now it would fly the sea, instead of the skies.

quennell continued the song in the back of his throat. even as the sound of the ocean drowned it out, even when it was just himself for those few moments. only finding it in himself to wrap it up softly as suzu returned to his side once more.

he'd stay here as long as she wanted, as she needed.

as much as he did not wish to be experiencing this, he knew there was no other place he could possible be needed more.

Thanks for letting me crash your thread <3

Once the chill worried its way through her fur, she would withdraw from the ocean alongside Quennell, and would not spare it a glance, not wanting to see the body of the gull being tossed about on the waves. Quietly, she would thank him for staying, and apologize for her actions. True forgiveness would come with time, but she felt it possible, considering how sensitive he had been the moment he'd realized that she'd been upset. His support and efforts meant a considerable amount to her, though she would need some time alone to truly process her loss.