[AW] if you think you're getting away, you're only dying tired; [rebuild]

[Acton]

Acton these violent delights have violent ends Acton paced his room with all the tension of a prisoner before an execution. He felt the way he did before a big performance: muscles taut, pulse in his throat, alert to every movement caught from the corner of his eye. What he really wanted was a drink, but things the last few weeks had been pretty dry.   Luckily Raum was out – where, the buckskin didn’t know. Denocte’s Ghost had been even more of a haunt of late, and not even Acton could keep track of his comings and goings, much less what was on his mind. So the former Crow was alone when finally he left the keep below the warm sun of a spring afternoon and sauntered into the Night Markets to help.   It was a combination of guilt and bribes from a few of his favorite merchants that brought him to the back of a crowd gathering to listen to instructions. It wasn’t that Acton was embarrassed to be helping his home rebuild (though, fine, he was), it was that he was so unused to getting his hands dirty doing anything that could be considered straight work. It felt strange – like he was as scattered as the pieces of Caligo’s mosaic.   To help distract himself, he cast an amber-eyed gaze over the small gathered crowd, easily picking out their guests from Terrastella. He hadn’t spoken to any of them, but had kept an eye out for the former golden queen – and the antlered stallion he’d helped beat bloody on Reichenbach’s behalf.   There was a man it might be interesting to run into in a dark alley, but not so much a daylight work crew.   Neither of them was present, and that was just as well. Acton was relieved when those gathered began to break up, some into groups and some splitting off singly. Many would rehang banners and replace posts, but the buckskin preferred not to break a sweat; for now he only made his languid way up and down the marketplace, looking for a smooth glint in the long grass and along the alleyways.   It was strange, too, to see the markets in the daylight; the sun did not love Denocte the way the stars did. What was magical with lanterns lit and incense burning was almost garish during the day, and with the damage from the storm it had the air of a hastily-abandoned carnival.   So distracted was he that Acton didn’t realize he was upon another figure until he shouldered them hard enough to stumble back a step. With a grunt he shook himself, then looked up. “Sorry, I was distracted looking for some rocks. Say, you haven’t seen any that are shiny and pale and round-ish, have you?”