exsiliumlogs | us, again

[ It doesn't take long to reach the gardens, with his help that first time she'd made quick work of memorizing the routes there.

Maybe its strange, then, that it took his offer for her to remember them. Trying to think on her way over had taken some work; when exactly had she last thought about the flowers here? Some distant time ago, gardens meant quite a lot.

Do they still now? There's no answer until she arrives, then it's a little more clear. Between the returning buds of life and the soft shade of what's managed to hold up against everything trying to plow it down there's a strong wash of relief.

Syllona touches a hand to each tree as she walks further in, lingering... It's only when she sees a peek of blonde, curly hair that she knows she's found the right spot.

A good greeting doesn't come quickly to mind, so instead she makes sure she's made enough noise with her approach and crouches to sit next to him.

She smiles, small and tired. ]

[he is halfway to standing, seeing her, because it'd be rude to not, right? but she's quicker, and he sinks back down when she sits, his smile twice hers.

he lifts his hand – an easy sign. hello.

and there's a beat where the smile falters a little, really seeing her now. has she been sleeping well? it's hard to tell. his head tilts, watching her more intently.]

[ Oh. Well that's a little embarrassing, should she have waited? But... but she doesn't feel that same need to make up for it. Besides, he's already given a hello--which she returns with a short wave--so the moment's past.

Sleep hasn't been a friend, and that shows in the bags under her eyes and the way her head tips forward just a little more than usual. ]

You and Adrasteius did a great job here.

[he smiled small, dipping his head in return, appreciative. his first impulse is to get up again, to show her around, but she definitely doesn't look very peppy...

not that she typically is? just...something keeps him sitting there. and lifts his hand to point at her way, questioning.

everything ok?]

[ It takes her a moment to grasp the meaning, eyes on his finger, up to his face... Then her gaze drops away a beat later. ]

M'fine. Just a little tired.

[ Her eyes fall on his sketchbook, helpfully, so she leans a bit to try to catch a glimpse. She really is curious, but the way she corrects her droopy posture so quickly isn't going to win her any actress awards. ]

[his gaze drops to follow hers, landing on the sketchbook. it's...still a pretty private thing, his drawings. he's sure he's not that good, and he certainly hasn't been able to make much of anything look good since...well. it's been a long time, and let's leave it at that.

but he can't leave the sketchbook at that. he chews on the inside of his lip in that lapse of silence, wondering. he's...worried he'll leave a bad impression with those sketches. that she'll wince a little and be forced to say something nice just to make him feel better. that'd kill him.

still, a piece of him wants her to see. he's only half certain why, and the half that is is just as shy as the rest of him.

carefully, he lifted the cover and let it fall to expose the most recent page. just scribbles in no real order – a broad leafed plant here, a knot of roots there, an interesting arrangement of rocks...all peppered with faint, cursive notes and thoughts to himself. bits of rhyme. scribbles and frustrated scratches of failed attempts. his brain on a page.]

[ When that cover falls she breathes in a tiny gasp, taking it all in. She lingers on each drawing, a smile spreading wide and crinkling her nose. Then she squints to read, aware after the first few sentences that this is... this is something very personal. Not unlike her own notes.

It shouldn't make her blush. There's nothing about the situation that should make all this blood rush to her cheeks, but it's happening. Well, at the very least she feels awake now.

She raises her face to see his, looking for all the world like he's just told her an amazing secret. ]

This is-- ...Wow!

[wow is the kind of thing he hopes for, but doesn't really know what to do with; he is, at the moment, looking entirely in the wrong direction with his head ducked and his hand up on the top of his head, elbow resting on his knee. he holds his breath, feeling heat creep up beyond his cheeks and down his neck, up to the very tips of his ears.

he is thinking of all the ridiculous words and scribbles that he can't possibly begin to explain, thinking there's no way to look back and own up to his own chickenscratch.

he does peek, though, for a moment, but he can't look at her for very long.]

[ Is he embarrassed? She gives the page one last good look and can't see a reason for it. She knows, understands in that painful way everyone does when they have something unfinished, but then she recalls too.. hadn't he said he was art blocked? Did he think she was lying maybe?

Gently, only looking to grab his attention again, she reaches up to press her hand over the one on his head. It makes her way too conscious of herself, but she keeps it there just long enough to know he's looking. Then its gone. ]

Hey! I mean it. [ Her head tilts, still not quite sobered from all the smiling. ] The rhymes too, that's all you?

[the touch gets him to look back, fingers curling into his hair as he does so.

his mouth tugs a twitchy, timid smile, nodding, shoulders shrugging up. it's not so great – not really worth a whole lot of praise, and really not why he asked her to show up! wow, he hopes that's not what she thinks. that would be...really embarrassing. like twofold. like just dig a hole and let him curl up in it already...]

[ There, see? He should take some credit for his talent. She's gotten that feeling from him anyway, that he's much too humble. Even if that's not too bad a trait, it's just... he deserves better. And that makes her frown return. She hopes it only looks thoughtful on the outside, but she can't be sure, so she speaks up again. ]

Here. [ She closes the cover back, mindful not to smudge anything. ] I won't go looking through it if that's not what you want. I'm just happy you'd trust me at all.

[he unfolds out of that closed-up shape as he takes the book back, looking down at it thoughtfully, all the while color heading down to his neck, head warm, a little dizzy.

there's a slight pang of guilt at trust. he can't really claim to be good on trust when he's never even given out his real name, can he?

but the drawings...

he takes in a deep breath, lets it out, and sits up...and sags, letting out the tension. trust, huh.

he looks back to her, smiling small, appreciative.]

[ It's a really strange feeling, to return that smile one moment and find it impossible to keep it up the next. What does she even mean? Trust... when it's such a dangerous thing to start with.

He makes it all seem so easy, though.

She shifts herself so she can lean against the tree then runs a hand through the grass; it's wet, cool. Nice. ]

Anyway, I... It's good to see you again. [ She murmurs it. Energy from just a little while ago finally puttering out with a sigh. ]

[the smile wanes, watching her. she's a shy, cagey sort of person – that much he knows. but he can't help but feel there's something weighing on her.

the sigh really impresses the notion, and his brow pinches, head tilting at her, questioning.

you okay?]

[ She manages eye contact for one whole second.

All the nasty thoughts have been surprisingly easy to keep at bay when she's awake, and maybe it's the lack of sleep, but before she can fight it off a tear comes.

Her hand finds it, wipes it away viciously, eyes squinting up in confusion. No, no, no! This is terrible!!

This time she curls up, already red with embarrassment and murmurs into her knees. ]

No!

[it's actually really scary the way she recoils, and most of it's simply because of all the unknowns. as much as he thinks he knows about her – most of it external, generalized, and very small-scale in what she offers him to see – it's definitely not enough to know what can cause such a reaction.

they are already treading well into those tests of boundaries, however, so he knows he's an idiot to just sit and stare. and if they're going to get anywhere beyond awkward silences and miles of text and little eye contact, well...

he reaches over and puts a hand on her shoulder, tentative for barely a beat before fingers settle on more certainly, making himself more of a presence. hey.]

[ No reaction right away, for a few moments it's nothing but deep breaths. She has to get a handle on this, has to rein it in because crying has never solved anything. It's never done her any good.

The touch helps though, it's a reminder that there's still an outside world beyond this desperate moment, and Jericho is still beside her. Slowly, shakily, she relaxes enough to lift and turn her head toward him, face pressed against her knee. Her breathing comes in big gulps of air and her cheeks are hot with the effort but any more tears have been successfully beaten back.

She frowns, guilty. This wasn't something he was meant to see... ]

[it's heart- and gut-wrenching, seeing her curled up and unhappy like that – especially with no real inkling as to why.

he knows what it's like to have something really weighty on your chest, how hard it is to let others lift that stone away.

he also knows that sometimes...it needs to be there. and maybe this was such a time? and that might mean he has no business in lifting it away, but if he wants to think himself any sort of friend, he's going to try to at least take some of that weight off if he can.

shoulders go up, then down with a slow breath, encouraging her to do the same. the hand on her shoulder slid to her shoulderblade, rubbing her back. it's alright.]

[ She nods to him and takes several breaths, a long inhale and exhale that hitch at the ends.

It's so relieving that he hasn't pulled away, but it's frightening too. Every time, every single time someone looks at her like this she can see the same eyes she knew from home, and how that kindness rotted in what felt like minutes...it digs a deeper pit in her stomach, little needles of dread.

Those faces are long gone, she has to tell herself, it was different, not like here.

She shifts to lean herself on him, mumbling an apology, eyelids pressed shut, fighting again to hold herself together. She can hear his heartbeat, and that makes her own ache. ]

[heartbeat? more like jackhammer.

Jericho bites on his next breath when she slides closer to him; it's not something he expects. not that he's not thought about being close – it's more on happier circumstances, though.

he lets his hand slide around to her other shoulder to support her settling at his side, fidgeting to sit better to suit. and then he lets out his breath, willfully pushing his jitters aside to make himself more useful for her sake.]

[ Syllona stays that way for a full minute, just breathing and listening to his heart pound away. That makes her feel bad, too, what did he think of all this?

She's not even sure what's the root cause of this outburst. Her fear of this is loud amongst the fog of things, but it's so constant it's easier to set aside. That, and she just... doesn't have the energy or desire to sort through it. It'll pass, because these things always do.

Eventually she feels calm enough to peek an eye open. ]

I can't think of what to say...

[ Hey, at the very least, she's being honest. ]

[a full minute is nearly enough to ease out of that surprise, and well enough to stop worrying about himself.

his mouth quirks a little at her remark, and he gently pats her shoulder. curious as he is, there's no real reason to say much of anything. sometimes people just needed to let bad energy out, right?]

[ That gets just the ghost of smile out of her. She raises a hand up to her shoulder and holds onto his. ]

Thanks.

[ Said solemnly, but she hopes it's enough for him to know how much this all means. ]

[he can...kind of. he's not the sort to think what he does has that much of an impact, but he does know how much it means to have someone around to vent, to hug...considering how rare it used to be for him.

he's settled down, content to sit there as long as she wants, fidgeting only a little to keep his leg from falling asleep.]

[ There's only been one other person she's ever gone to for comfort like this. This kind of proximity.

Now that the fear has passed, it occurs to her that the proper thing to do would be move away again but... well, he's warm. And Jericho doesn't seem bothered.

A happier topic would do them both good, though. ]

Do you...draw all the time?

[the unoccupied hand settled on his lap lifts after a moment's hesitation. held out flat, it gives an uncertain shake. he's not sure how to convey sometimes totally right like that...and he's not sure sometimes is actually the right answer.]

Hm. [ She nudges a small, budding flower with just the tip of her foot. Nodding out to it. ]

Just a hobby? Or, um, like when you want something peaceful to do.

[he thinks about that for a moment before sending his hand out for the book partly in question. he snags it by its spiral binding and pulls it onto his lap, yanking the pencil out of the coils and flipping pages – not frantically; she's allowed to see – to one with less clutter.

he writes:]

It helps me think and put things in order usually

us, again

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