[DND] They shaped and wrought, and light they caught,
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я буду звездой

The beach was deserted, a cold mist rolled in from the ocean's grasp, shrouding the dark boy in a chilled fog. If this bothered him, then there came no reaction, only a frown that remained ceaseless, and brows furrowed with apathy. He stooped to pick up a flat stone and sent it sailing, to slip, twice, across the flat, surface.

Pushok had been able to get three, but Temnota had always capped at two. It was just how it was, like how Pushok had passed and Temnota had failed, but now Pushok was gone, and where did that leave him?

Shying away from those thoughts that burst, star bright, into more slices of pain. Too soon, it was too soon. He skittered from them, moving his way on down the beach. Leaving lonely footprints in the damp sand. It was all he deserved, monster that he was.

Misty melancholy his company, at least, until he was joined by another.

She had been crying, he could tell. Sodden tracks that traced down her cheeks, was still crying, if only quietly. Some spark fired away, deep inside, suffusing the concern that flitted so briefly across his face,

"Quienn. Ahre yeu okiay?" Quinn nodded, and didn't elaborate on her distress, and he didn't ask. There was not anymore he could carry along with his own burdens. So he blocked everything else out, and stooped to pick up another stone, and fling it at the ocean. Two again.

Quinn followed his lead, grabbing her own and getting four. He clicked his tongue, and grimaced. Trying again, still only two.

<"Here, like this."> She rearranged his position, bending to grab a handful, and show him carefully, and Temnota let her do what she wished with him, keeping still when she moved him. Words about angle, and strength, and trajectory. Temnota nodded, absorbing passively.

He tried again. Three. Success.

Dark lips twitched, curling at the edges ever so slightly. The first since that horrible day.

Quinn gave him a tremulous smile, sniffling and brushing at her still-wet cheeks. At least she wasn't actively crying anymore. The heaviness eased, just a fraction.

Sometime later, they ended up perched together on a washed ashore log, stripped of foliage and sand blasted almost to smoothness. The pale, bleached wood felt good beneath his fingers, he stroked back and forth, the soft scratchy sound of his nails soothing.

They didn't talk much, and it was mostly she who spoke, he nodded or he shook his head, and only when it was necessary did he speak in a hoarse, limp voice.

Her arm slipped about his shoulders and squeezed him against her, a gesture of comfort. Tem leaned his head against her shoulder, sighing heavily -- her fingers ran through his hair softly. The silence stretched, he could smell the odor of the things she smoked upon her breath and this spoke as to why she was so still and so quiet.

Temnota managed to draw in a breath than didn't feel so strangled and suffocated.

Then he turned and kissed her.

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