[P] cinderblock gardens

[Theodosia]

let our eyes show the
fire in our hearts tonight

When Terrastella comes into view, she might have wept tears of joy had she not been so exhausted -- she has missed her home fiercely, between her time in Denocte and in Delumine, and her brief stay there for Asterion’s meeting had not been enough to ease the ache in her bones. The scent of salt in the air is a homecoming, her feet stumbling only slightly when she finally lands on the cobbled streets, and she ignores every strange look from the others at how her flank still lazily oozes blood every time the muscle flexes.

The wounds will heal, as they have always done -- already the blood is hardening, forming a protective layer over the tender flesh.

It’s almost instinct, what drives her towards the Halcyon base, towards the cadet buildings where they often sleep two or four to a room. Her new title is still a yet-to-be in her mind, something on the tip of her tongue -- at heart, she will always be Halcyon first, reporting home to the crowded halls no matter how the other cadets might stare. Before she can collapse in her bed, however, there is still a visit to be made -- she had, after all, been sent to Delumine on Halcyon orders.

“Commander,” She murmurs when she finally reaches the doorway of Marisol’s office, dark smudges beneath her lavender eyes, and she does her best to swallow the blush that threatens to engulf her cheeks. The commander has seen her vulnerable in so many ways, sprawled out on her knees and muttering fever-truths, and it’s a terrifying thing to stand in her doorway and pretend like none of it has ever happened.

She wishes she could face it, but Marisol is still the commander, and she is still the cadet -- except now… she isn’t, is she? They’ve reached some sort of shaky ground, here, where they are both in charge of each other, and she finds it suddenly hard to swallow past the lump in her throat. 

“Atreus was successfully delivered to Delumine, although I’m sure you’ve heard reports of his welcome there by now. The seeds and supplies sent were also delivered into King Somnus’ grateful hands.” She settles for reciting her report, instead, although she is sure Marisol knows much of it already -- but there is something to be said for how soothing habit could be, when one was trying to avoid words they shouldn’t say.

credits
@Marisol