#reticent

[mvaljean525]

The reticent volcano keeps His never slumbering plan – Confided are his projects pink To no precarious man.

If nature will not tell the tale Jehovah told to her Can human nature not survive Without a listener?

Admonished by her buckled lips Let every babbler be The only secret people keep Is Immortality.

----

The reticent volcano keeps (1896)

Emily Dickinson 1830-1886

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Graphic - Jana Vodesil-Baruffi (B.1957)

[xxfr0gdadxx]

RETICENT CASEY OMGAAA!!! i love this guy so much.

fun fact: for the background i actually used the colors of the original broadway cast album cover of be more chill (even though i like the two river theater version of the musical better) and i really like how it came out!!

[tmnt-reticent]

As soon as I saw this reel I thought of them

I struggled with the perspective so I just. Made shit up‼️‼️‼️🗣️🗣️🗣️💯💯🔥🔥‼️‼️

[luck-and-larceny]

FFXIV Write: Reticent

She flipped a card over. King of Hearts.

“Ah. So there's a man who has been occupying your thoughts lately.”

It was important to deliver her readings more in statements than questions. Confidence was the key to convince people to pay you. That was rule number one in these kinds of games.

The woman on the other side of the cards didn't react. She didn't agree. She didn't disagree. She simply stared at the revealed card.

Ok.

Malika gave the woman space to think about it before adding, “It's important that I mention here that this does not necessarily mean you've been thinking about him romantically. The hearts represent depth of feeling and affection, but not necessarily a desire to be romantic. It could be a father figure, a mentor, or even a co-worker you've been worrying about.”

Again, no rising intonation. 

And, again, no response.

Malika tilted her head slightly to get a better look at the midlander woman’s face as she peered down, unblinkingly and wordlessly at the card. Nothing. Blank.

“Let's turn over the next card then,” she said and bit back the urge to nervously clear her throat. No nervousness here! Only sport!

She turned the card over to the 9 of hearts.

“Ah,” she said, “More hearts. Now why do you think that'd be, hmm?”

The first rule of the game was: Don't ask questions, make statements.

The second rule was: Fuck it, break the rules when you need to. In this case, she hoped asking for a response would make her sound like a patient teacher allowing her student to draw her own conclusion.

“Dunno,” the midlander answered and shrugged. And that was it. Nothing. 

Malika was quickly losing her patience. The way this woman stared at the cards you'd think she was watching paint dry on a wall!

“This card represents satisfaction, contentment and joy,” Malika said… emotions she, herself, was quickly forgetting how to feel. “Paired with our handsome King there it looks like things are going pretty good for you!”

Why even come get scammed by a shady asshole peddling fortunes with a regular ass card deck– not even a cheap divination deck!-- if your life is going so well? Tell me why you're here! You owe it to me! 

“Oh.” The midlander answered. Flatly. No emotion.

Was she alive? Had someone created an automaton to come get their fortune read? Was this a trick? Evander was pretty good at designing machines… She looked around for evidence of him. Nothing. There was a lot of that here today.

“Oh.” Malika repeated it and then turned another card over. Ace of Diamonds. “More good fortune. Literally. You'll receive a letter soon saying you're to receive money you did not expect. Tied to the hearts here, it suggests the letter will either include good news about the man or maybe be sent by him. Is there a man you're hoping to receive good news from?”

More nothing. Absolutely nothing. Time to pack up and call this a bust. She hadn't expected to get anything too significant for reading playing cards, but she'd at least hoped for fun. Or gossip she could use at a later date on another scam. Anything at all! Reading someone else's good luck in the cards and not even getting a conversation from it left a terrible taste in her mouth that only getting sloppy drunk could fix. 

She started to pack up. Silently. It's what the “customer” deserved.

The customer reached out a hand and gently held Malika’s wrist. 

Weird.

“Please turn the next one over!”

Malika raised her eyebrows. Finally, something interesting. Finally feeling like she was back in control, she exerted her power by not packing up but also not turning the next card over. And not speaking either. She could feel the switch of fortune in the air, could sense the tables turn. Exhilarating.

The woman across from her blushed and released her wrist. Then, blessedly, began to speak. “I didn't want to give too much away,” she explained, “because I'd been warned these sorts of set ups could sometimes be scams.”

“Hurtful,” Malika responded. “You wound me.”

“I'm sorry! I just… I thought to protect myself I shouldn't give anything away. I should see what you say and then, you know, see if it was right. Then I couldn't be scammed, you know?”

Malika nodded. “I know. These streets can be dangerous. People can be so unscrupulous. It's a good practice to watch out for that. You did the right thing.” She smiled warmly and tried to keep a predatory grin from overwriting the warmth. “But card reading requires two people working together to create the– we'll call it a narrative. I don't have oracular visions.”

Well, not usually anyway.

“I just have the ability to read vague messages in the cards. You've got to lend your personal experience to them to make the message more specific. It's like we're dancing together when we do this. If you don't move with me, it's clumsy and unsatisfying.”

“Ohhhhh, that makes sense.”

Did it? Good! Malika rather liked the dancing analogy…even if her first thought for comparison was less polite.

“The King of Hearts is my uncle, I think. I adore him! He’s a professional “treasure hunter” and he's opening a new museum in La Noscea that is going to be full of all kinds of ancient items and artifacts and other stuff like that. He sends me letters all the time telling me all the things he's found that he'll put in the museum and other stuff he's just planning to sell and he says he's been making so much money off it all. I asked if I could become a partner, so maybe that's what the letter will be about! Next time we do a reading maybe you'll pull a card for me that shows me as Queen of Diamonds!”

Malika had to keep her head down staring at the cards. She couldn't lift it or her wolfish grin and the bad intentions in her eyes would be far too visible to Red Riding Hood. 

“Maybe!” she agreed.

She turned the final card over. 2 of Spades. Its meaning: Bad luck. A need to be extra cautious. A cheat or bad actor in your life.

Malika lifted her head and her smile was nothing but sweetness. “2 of Spades! It means you've been needlessly cautious. You've been hiding so much away when you need to learn to be more open and honest. You've shut the door on your thoughts and feelings when you really need to throw that door wide open and impulsively do anything your heart desires when you desire it. Transparency is the key to your success!”

“Ohhh, that makes sense!”

“Doesn't it though! Now tell me everything about your uncle and yourself.”

[driftward]

Title: FFXIV Write 2024 - 4. Reticent Characters: Aemilia sas Valentina, Valens sas Varro, Nyx Blackmoon Rating: Teen Summary: Message sent and received. Notes: None

"Sir?"

Valens rem Varro did not look up from his paperwork. "What."

"You have a delivery, sir."

"Fine. Leave it."

"The courier has very specific instructions to deliver it to you in person... sir."

"Fine, fine. Show them in."

Valens frowned, looking up, as the soldier saluted him, and disappeared out the door. He reappeared a moment later, a small Miqo'te woman following behind him.

Well, Miqo'te-looking thing, anyroad.

Valens knew what it was, and he smiled broadly to himself. Maybe the officer he had sent over on exchange had been far more successful than he had assumed he would be. Maybe said officer had managed to get the Frumentarium to finally see the light and decide to turn over their little toy to proper magitek engineers who would truly be able to finally make maximum use of the thing.

Not bad, for a man who was just supposed to try to sneak a few secrets out from under their nose while forwarding their work.

In his mind's eye, he could already see the grand strides his own magitek projects could undergo after fully examining the thing. A few days of destructive testing, perhaps. Pull its myomar fibers apart, rebraid them. Stress tests, impact testing, ductile and brittle failure tests. The thing supposedly had an impressive capacity for self repair and regeneration. He could do so many tests finding those limits, letting it return to baseline, then pulling it apart again. And then the material science data he could get by going right past those limits, why, he wasn't sure he'd been this excited since he was a teenager.

But, he was getting ahead of himself. He watched as the project 'Nyx' prototype walked in, and presented him with a folder. The soldier who had brought her in saluted, and excused himself. Valens paid him no mind as he took the folder, recognizing the type immediately.

A Frumentarium report, written by Aemilia sas Valentina herself. Nominally the woman in charge of the Nyx project, but she had temporarily turned it over to Semon while she visited the capital with her pet head scientist. All part of the officer exchange.

Interesting. It was a report on the officer he had sent over, Semon oen Moruntarium. Interesting. Perhaps they just wanted him to know what Semon had been up to, though he wondered why they hadn't just let the man make the report himself.

He leafed through the first few couple of pages. He was pleased at what he read. Semon had been allowed to be temporarily in charge of the Nyx project, as agreed, and he had used his authority to perform a few tests of the kind Valens himself wanted to perform. Strangely, though, the results had been redacted. Well, no matter. He'd have to give the man credit for trying.

On the next few pages, another report. Semon had used Nyx as part of a mission to foment a little dissent in one of the colonies. A simple in and out job. Apparently he had modified the original mission profile which was meant to just be simple observation, and almost caused a rebellion.

Valens remembered talking to Semon about such things, about how Semon felt that the best way to bring a populace to heel was to drive them to open defiance, so as to justify the eventual crackdown. That way, there would always be a few of the savages who would blame their would-be revolters for their lot in life, for daring to step out of line. Bold. Valens himself preferred more direct methods, but he had to admire Semon's initiative in carrying out his own vision.

Aemilia took a somewhat dimmer view of the situation, judging from the language she was using. Valens chuckled to himself. Well, observation, dissent, whatever, it all forwarded the goals of the Empire, and as far as he was concerned, all was well that ended well. Having to redirect a few units to crack a few savage skulls was hardly any cost at all in the grand scheme of things, and Semon now had some practice at doing that sort of thing. Good for him. Valens continued on.

The next part was just a note on an injury the man had maintained attempting to fight Nyx. Valens glanced up at Nyx at that part, but it was staring off into nowhere, same as it always was. He harrumphed, and returned his attention back to the report. Semon had apparently wished to test its combat capabilities, and had overrode one of the scientist's recommendations to impose certain limits. He had been armed and armored, Nyx had been neither, and it had taken no damage while breaking his arm.

Well, fine. He would have to talk to Semon about that one. There were reasons he wanted to study Nyx, and it was known to be a more than capable combatant.

He turned to the last section.

Here, he slowed, reading carefully.

Semon had apparently taken some materials out of the Nyx project building. A major breach of confidentiality. Valens had no idea what the files were, as that information had been redacted, but there was a note of plans to place a rebuke in Semon's file.

Said rebuke would not be coming. The Frumentarium had fortunately managed to recover the files.

From his corpse.

Valens studied the last page of the report very carefully. It was a picture of Semon, on an empty train car. Unquestionably on his way back to Valens' castrum, in fact, judging from the timestamps that Aemilia had carefully placed on each of the lithographs. He had been stabbed straight through the head, apparently, by a Mark 8 type 'S' gunblade.

He recognized the type. As a magitek engineer, he was intimately familiar with a fair amount of the Empire's armaments, and that was one in particular was an uncommon one.

Generally it was issued to, and only used by, Frumentarium agents, in fact.

Valen's gaze drifted up to Nyx's hip, and his lips thinned.

Nyx noticed, and spoke the only words it had said so far.

"Aemilia sas Valentina sends her regrets."

Valens looked back down at the report. Investigation into the death was ongoing. But apparently the current best guess was that Semon had met his demise at the hands of a disgruntled former agent who perhaps had some grudge against him, of a personal nature.

He closed the report, and set it down, and looked at Nyx.

"Dismissed," he said brusquely, though he hated that even he could hear the slightest unsteadiness in his voice. Nyx, without another word, turned and left.

Valens decided that perhaps... this was not worth his further curiosity.

[chocoblep]

#4: The To-Do List

Prompt: Reticent

It had been a while since Rhyle had visited Gridania, and as he stepped in through the gates, a familiar feeling of unease swept over him. It wasn’t as if he feared anyone here–not anymore, after having lived in the Shroud for some time–but rather that the things he did know about the place irked him more than they probably should. The prejudice here showed in the way its citizens regarded those of a certain persuasion, and though he was neither a forest-dwelling Mystel or the type of Elf known as a Duskwight, he was an outsider all the same, and that came with a fair few odd looks as he sidled down the path toward the Lancer’s guild.

He was used to being thought of as odd by now. Ever since he’d learned that he was from a different world altogether, he’d understood why he stuck out like a sore thumb, why he’d not been able to connect with the land like he’d been able to back home. He understood that he couldn’t form the closets of friendships, because he knew that eventually he would leave them behind when he figured out how to go back to his world.

Home. That place that was beginning to feel more and more foreign, even when he looked back upon his days as a protector of the forest. Though his worry for his homeland had never truly gone away, it had dissipated somewhat when he’d learned that a hero who had traveled there had dispersed the everlasting light and freed the whole of Norvrandt from its clutches. He had begun to forget the smaller details of the place and its people, though, and begun to forget what it felt like to belong to a place. It prickled his skin to think that perhaps this place was the place where he was supposed to be. But if that was so, why could he not connect to the land? Why was he so woefully out of place? 

He’d wanted to meet this Warrior of Light that people had spoken about, but they were nowhere to be found. He’d tried to get into contact with the Scions of the Seventh Dawn, only to learn that they had disbanded, and that anyone he’d have wanted to speak with was a continent and an ocean away. Given that most of them were native to this area, he suspected that all he had to do was wait for them to return. He could be patient when he wished, of course–any hunter worth their salt must be so–but waiting was a game that he did not like to play in situations like this.

Still, there were things that he needed to do before he left this world entirely, so waiting didn’t feel too bad. For starters, he needed to make sure that Little Flame was cared for. He had to ensure that the man who’d found him when he’d first arrived was compensated for his kindness. He had to defeat all of the burning foods in Radz-at-Han, like he had vowed to do, and return his den to its natural state.

When he walked into the Lancer’s Guild proper and saw a Raen man speaking with the Guildmaster, he stopped short, eyeing him up and down. He looked as out of place as Rhyle did, and the vii’s dark ears flicked, one after the other, as he considered the man. Ywain, the Hume Guildmaster, caught sight of Rhyle and smiled, beckoning him over. “Ah, Rhyle! I’ve that parcel you requested in my office. Let me go and get that for you.” The man turned and trotted off toward the back of the guildhouse, leaving Rhyle and the Raen alone.

“I do not see many Vieran men outside of the Wood,” the Raen said, and Rhyle looked him over once more.

“I do not see many of your kind here in Gridania,” Rhyle replied, careful to keep his expression deadpan.

The man grinned. “Oh, I am not here often, but I was looking for someone to spar while I was in the area.”

“Ah. And have you found a worthy partner?”

“I believe so,” the Raen said, giving Rhyle a critical eye that even he could not misunderstand as anything but appraising and inviting.

There was silence for a moment, and then Rhyle simply said, “You wish to spar with me.”

“If you would be amenable. I am told your kind are fierce warriors.” Raking his hands through his blonde hair, the Raen softened his smile into something a bit more hopeful. 

He wore his desires on his face so clearly that it was refreshing to see; Rhyle was used to stoic warriors and Asana’s infuriating, confusing smiles. He considered for a moment before giving a light shrug and settling his pack against the wall.

“I see no reason why not.”

And so the two found space to square off, which became much larger once the recruits realized what was happening. The Raen came at him faster than expected, but Rhyle fended him off easily, and they began to go back and forth in earnest, Rhyle’s bladed staff meeting the other’s naginata with such speed that the weapons themselves blurred with each movement, and jarred painfully up the arms with each clash. Finally, Rhyle managed to disarm the Raen and toppled him onto his back, crouching over him with the tip of his staff pointed at his throat. The pair stared at each other for a good ten seconds before Rhyle spoke.

“Do you happen to like strong women? I know one who could claim victory over me in a fight.”

Asana was picky, but maybe he could fulfill that first task sooner rather than later.

[avampyone]

Prompt #4: The Wingman

Characters: Seiro Malkavi, Haurchefant Greystone, Hemlocke

Synopsis: Even drunk off his arse, Hemlocke attempts to provide helpful advice to his friend.

Setting: Coerthas, Camp Dragonhead.

Warning for adult situations and suggestive themes.

-----------------------

The clash of steel against steel rang out whenever the curved edge of a worn-down scythe hit against shield blow by blow in perfect succession. With a deep grunt leaving him, Seiro whirled the long rod of the scythe around like it weighed nothing at all, flinging himself into the air with his long black scaly tail waving behind him, leaving the soft chime of the trinkets that adorned such in its wake.

His eyes blazed with a heated excitement, grinning wildly, “Try to dodge this!” As surely as he sought to bring down the blade upon his opponent from the air, the shining sword lifted upward to meet him once against with the momentum flinging him back easily. He agilely landed on the ground of the command room with a heavy huff, causing the nearby tables and chairs to rattle as he did so, all due in part to the fall.

His chest rose and fell wildly to his breathes, chest straining against the thick black leather straps that bound him when he lifted his two-toned eyes to the man he’d been clashing with. After sheathing his sword, Haurchefant made no hesitation to come join him with a few steady claps of his hands and lovely blue eyes that shared the same excitement as he, “You never cease to amaze me, Seiro. Long have I wished to cross blades with you. Our styles as different as they are match perfectly with one another, no?” He was intent on holding the gaze, but Seiro’s own eventually broke away to the sight of Hemlocke sitting nearby at a table alone with a mug between in his slender hands.

The smirk on Hemlocke’s features was much like that of a cheshire cat and crimson eyes glittered mischievously when he stared at the pair of them. Seiro fought hard to keep a reticent expression, giving small incline of his head in gratitude towards Haurchefant even if he dares not to fully look his way, “It was an honor to do so. Your movements hold a graceful elegance I have not seen in many moons from another warrior.” With that, he spun on his heels to turn away back to join Hemlocke in the drinking festivities, but found a gloved hand grasping at his own to stop him, “Will you not join me in my chambers tonight? It can get very cold by oneself. I can make a cup of hot chocolate for the both of us.”

The sudden touch caught Seiro entirely off guard when he paused in his step in time to catch himself from stumbling. The Xaela could hardly register a thought for a few moments before he found himself bumbling a series of small nods, his rough hand curling to squeeze lightly, “Yes- the night is still young. Why not...before sleep, yes...? Right...I should go and check on my companions before this.” Every word spoken with a gruff awkward note before he let go, looking all but ready to rush back to the table before Haurchefant headed off looking positively satisfied.

With a heavy swallow back and looking much like he may be sick, Seiro took a heavy seat beside Hemlocke and skipped his mug entirely to go straight away to take a few long gulps back from a fresh bottle of ale nearest to him. The hunter’s tail twitched in agitation behind him. Meanwhile, Hemlocke took no time at all to nudge his friend meaningfully with an elbow and the smug smirk still plastered to his features, “Well, well~ I daresay there is going to be a lot more shared tonight than a cup of hot chocolate.”

“H-hey! Keep it down. I think- We head north tonight. Right now, even, we gather our companions and go north…”

Slender brows furrowing together, Hemlocke’s mouth parted in shock to hear Seiro’s sudden request to leave, “What?!...Are you really going to leave him there waiting without a word? Come now, there is no reason to be so nervous. Unless…are you a virgin?” The dark haired elezen gave him a once over in pure disbelief in this when Seiro looked aghast and like he might smack Hemlocke at any moment to the question. The liquid in the bottle of ale was disappearing at a steadily rapid pace, “No, of course not! It has been a long time though… And we are so vastly different from one another.” He kept his deep tone in a whisper, “Should I… walk in and tell him I wish to lie together?”

“Are you serious, Seiro? You need to, you know…build up the tension a little before you get to that. Look here, love~” Amidst his chuckles, Hemlocke’s words were a little slurred no doubt feeling the affects of the many drinks he had had. It did not stop him from bringing a hand to the buttons of his own shirt to undo one by one at the top and trace his fingertips along the length of his neck to the bare hint of his chest shown with a teasing slowness.

His ruby eyes grew half lidded gleaming at their depths with a mixture of pure heat and mischief, framed by thick black lashes with an enticing smile painted across his full lips, “’Oh my dear, Ser Haurchefant, let us skip the hot chocolate and jump right back into talk of our blades crossing again ~…’” His voice changed to a low and deep timbre of a rumble that eerily matched the hunter’s own. With a waggle to his brows, Hemlocke burst out into a fit of laughter after all the seriousness and began to slouch over on the table.

Thinking only of his current dilemma, Seiro blinked a little and peered down with his thick fingers feeling at his neck a little with a soft grunt of uneasiness, “…But I wear no shirt. How should I do this…? Do I move my hand like this?” His fingers curled in a bit to grip tightly at his own neck, giving off more of an appearance of choking himself while he rapidly batted his eyelashes at Hemlocke in his attempt to look appealing, “Hahahah! Well, admittedly, I have heard some are into that...you know what. Never mind you that. Let us focus on the basics. You should at least show off some of the goods~”

“Absolutely not!” As much as he weakly tried to swat his clumsy hands away, it didn’t keep Hemlocke from reaching over to adjust the tightly fitted straps a little to make the appearance of Seiro’s muscular pecs underneath to bulge a little more at the top, “Now, there you are. Run along and have a lovely night, my friend. Tis…very well deserved. I think I may…rest my head here just a moment…”

Leaning forward with his arms curling about the mug, Hemlocke laid his head down to rest and not moments later that he appeared all but lost to the grips of a deep sleep. Seiro made sure that he had a blanket nearby to drape before he hoisted himself up to his feet, attempting to grip at his own neck again, “Thank you, friend...so, like this? It seems easy enough...”

[tricksterfiction]

Day 4 - Reticent

When you look at me with a smile, I feel stronger

The fireworks popped and sparkled against a clear night sky. Kubo Urabe stepped his long legs over stonewalls, settling to sit. He twisted at his waist, picking up at her waist his second eldest daughter to sit with him on the wall over looking the beaches. With a great view of the sky, it was a semi annual trip to Limsa Lominsa to enjoy Moonfire Faire festivities.

He rolled his sleeves up over his elbows, long fingers for pulling needles, threading fibers and recognizing textiles. His horns curled around his face, scales thinning around his chin.

Below was the rest of his family, his wife Akane and two other daughters sitting on either side. Cho was still too young to wear anything longer than her knees, she had her mouthful of fried squid. While his eldest daughter Iso nibbled conservatively on dango, levelling a sigh of boredom. He had a stick of dango for himself as well.

He smiled down at them, eyes crinkling.

Slurrrpp...!

He looked down at Sen enjoying her yakisoba, chewing with her mouth closed. A small miracle.

"How are the noodles?" Kubo's voice was clear as water and while it wasn't particularly deep it was hard to mistake it when heard through a crowd.

He asked halfway through the slurp of another noodle, she answered with a, "S'okay, Mama makes 'em better." They spoke Doman among themselves.

She had a quirk to her brow, chewing through her thoughts as much as her noodles.

"You will miss the fireworks for whatever is occupying your mind."

Sen craned her head up to look at her father, forehead wrinkling. "Papa, why do the boys I like run away?"

Kubo was grateful everyday for his daughter's ease and candid sharing of her thoughts.

"A new crush?" He guessed.

"Yes."

"Handsome?"

"Of course, Papa."

He couldn't help but chuckle. Sen tugged insistently on his elbow, "This is serious, Papa! What am I supposed to do?"

He turned his gaze onto Akane, feeling nostalgic suddenly. "You should ask your mother, Sen. She was very similar in her... affections." He choose his words, "She nearly scared me away before we started our courtship, officially.”

He took a bite of his dango letting that fact sink in. Sen's mouth popped open with shock, and a little bit of chewed noodle fell out. He brushed it away before she could eat it again.

"Your mother... was steadfast in her desires, she had listened closely to her elders, played the game expertly." He said pointedly at Sen, who mustered a withering look, "On the surface she is the picture of an excellent Doman lady. Your grandparents were very impressed." He began, "But the moment her eyes focused on me, I felt stripped bare as a newborn. I said very little, sparingly encouraged affection in attempt to protect myself.”

Sen was listening, intently.

“Until I read her first letter.”

Akane felt Kubo’s eyes on her and turned to look up at her husband with a warm smile. Kubo felt his world expand, like unfurling a new bolt of cloth. She mouthed, ‘I love you,' tapped her chin knowingly and pointed at Sen. Kubo's cheeks glowed a rosy pink. He pulled a square of cloth from his pocket, diligently dabbing away the spots of food from Sen's face. She squirmed a little but relented.

“It was the first of many,” He carried on, after clearing his throat of being flustered. “We were careful, respectful, but in our letters we expressed ourselves fully.”

He ate more of his dango, Sen ate more of her yakisoba.

“Did you keep the letters?” She asked.

“No,” he said the stick of dango floating down to his plate. He was expertly hiding his homesickness, it left such a bitter aftertaste in his mouth. He wondered when he would stop tasting it. “We had to leave them behind.”

“Letters are light, you could have taken them!”

"We had to make a lot of tough choices, the Kami granted us safety and good health for our journey even as we sailed away from them. Everyday we are grateful." He cupped her tiny cheek, her lip wobbled, "What we left behind only meant having the gift of doing it again."

She sniffled, "You made more?"

"Yes," He smiled and she brightened. Her boy problems were forgotten for now and she finally looked up at the fireworks.

Kubo felt his heart warm and full, the bitterness was softened. His faith would hold in his family and the new life they built.