she knows her arrival is sensed before she makes any announcement ; full-aware of the keen senses of a trust companion, a friend. the night sky blesses with its presence, &. another sleepless night has brought the champion of the star for air ... but, it would be a lie to claim it was the only reason.
no, she knew she'd find him there. she is not blind, nor deaf ; but it is the golden heart that sensed the tension in the atmosphere, &. witnesses how it lingers, swirls. it has not put a stop to the next steps, but it means it does not weigh heavy ... it does not mean that there is not added pressure there. ❝ it is beautiful, is it not? ❞ her voice comes out softly, staring with that instead, as she steps closer ... until her steps come to a halt beside him, ethreal goldens with their dim glows focused upwards.
she gives it a moment, ... then another, ... until she finally turns toward him, this time, with a slight furrow to her brow. ❝ something is bothering you, is it not? ❞ a question without being one. it is a statement that she knows, but still, with all of that grace within her that foes have mistaken for a lack of violence co-existing aside it, she allows room for denial anyway.
the thirstless shore is no la noscean beach but even now in the dead of night, it serves its intended purpose. both sarastus and the rest of the scions know that should he ever be missing during a restless night, z'mhati has gone to seek solace in the wild. sarastus tracks him easily, and not just because there are crystarium guards around to ask. mhati stands on the bleach - white sands at the end of a slow trail away from the imperative, cold waves lapping at his feet, and he welcomes her with a brief smile. he's ever only this quiet when something's on his mind, and of course sarastus is quick to ascertain that too. she turns to question him after a silent look skyward; for once, he can't bring himself to meet her radiant gaze, a beacon in the dark.
instead he pretends to adjust the sling of his boots over his shoulder. the habit to hide doesn't discriminate. yes, it's a beautiful sky ... and yes, something is bothering him. " y'know, i don't mean t' argue the way i do, " he says. it's seemingly apropos of nothing, but he's sure sarastus has heard about the last and most recent spat with the exarch, " but so much about this gets my hackles up and i ain't ever kept quiet about what bothers me. "
the waves retreat and then return, and the chill encourages him to speak. mhati's tired, and not because of a lack of sleep. " i've already gone through this. i showed up at cartenau, i did my part against the empire because it's what i had to do, and when the dust settled i was a memory. i wasn't even a name without a face, i was a title. warrior of light. 'n somehow, i survived t' see myself go from flesh and blood t' tale and recollection. i can't remember the number of times i wanted to speak up and say that was me, that i left the plains with my brother's body, whenever i heard mention of it all. but i never did. i didn't want thanks, i just ... "
mhati can't say it doesn't matter to him to go unacknowledged. he straddles the line between humility and selfishness: whenever he helps, he wants the world to know he was there. there's nothing worse than being a shapeless memory, with voids for eye sockets where the soul ought to be.
" i don't want that to happen t' you. you might be fine with that, you might say that it's fine 's long as you helped but legends always start with someone. and that deserves preservin' as much as the deeds themselves. " though he's turned his gaze to sarastus at last, it doesn't last long; he stares down at the sand. " that's all it is. "
semi - plotted asks, ft. @sarastuss.
