Tristaan didn't wake up when Sarinah slipped away to go meet Xanadu and Eriyenna on the beach. He hardly stirred until a few hours later, though he was content to linger in bed awake. Listening to the sounds of familiar folks–wicks he'd called his family, and still did–stir outside, the passive let his mind wander through all of the things he'd experienced in the week since he'd arrived on Surwood. A few things had been hard, painful, challenging, while a few more had been exciting, refreshing, healing. The night before, apparently, had been all of those things crammed together.

It was as these these thoughts passed by that Tristaan heard Guaril stir outside, nearby. They'd enjoyed some catch-up time together, meals, conversation, sparring, but only a few of those moments had really been alone.

With noticeable reluctance, the passive finally got up and mostly dressed before quietly slipping out of the kint and into the cool, slightly foggy island morning air. He wandered toward the older wick's kint, noting the man had already started his fire. Deciding to hang around until he returned, Tristaan sat down and poked a bit at the flames, taking the liberty to put Guaril's iron kettle on himself while he waited.

Guaril appeared from the mist jogging. He was no longer the young warrior he'd once been but he still enjoyed keeping in shape. He said it was for longevity. It was really because he liked the quiet of running, the wind in his face and being able to look around at the scenery for a while. Running was his meditation.

"Esta, brunno." Guaril said, stopping by the warmth of the fire to stretch, he found the heat helped him avoid getting stitches. "Fine mornin' ent it?"

He smiled and grabbed a pitcher of water from his kint, downing a reasonable portion of it before sitting down beside Tristaan.

"Oes," the passive smiled crookedly, not in sleepiness so much as nostalgic contentment, "Mornin's here've been finer ones than I've had in a while. Been good for my perspective, this place. Th'Isle's sure gotta different sort of air, I s'pose."

Tristaan smirked at the subtle irony of his statement, poking the fire again absently as he looked away from Guaril. He'd left because he thought he was protecting them, but it'd been a fearful lie. He'd only wanted to protect himself. Here he was, a few years later, a little less afraid and a little more aware. Mostly.

"Can I fix y'somethin' since th'kettle's on, da?"

"Some tea would be nice, brunno, if 's not tae much trouble." Guaril said, rubbing his hands together to warm them.

He watched Tristaan puddle about somewhat carefully. It looked as though the boy had grown up quite a bit. Guaril was sorry to have missed it. That tension to his movement when he was worried though, that wasn't quite gone even now.

"Say, brunno, is there something ye wanted tae talk t'me about?" He asked, voice casual and testing the waters.

Tristaan might have shifted uncomfortably at the direct question, but he managed to look up into Guaril's eyes, "Ne–er–Oes. Maybe. I dunno ... I thought I left when I did t'protect you, but now I know I left for me. I feel like while I won my right t'leave you that day, I lost a lot."

The passive shrugged, distracting himself by fumbling around the fire for mugs and tea. He knew it wasn't an issue of wanting to come back; he had begun to reach a point of acceptance in his life.

"Y'don't think less of me 'cause I left, d'you?"

Guaril smiled softly and chuckled a little under his breath. Still a flighty thing, even though he was a man now. Guaril still thought of him as though he was fifteen but he considered that his right.

"I'd be lyin' if I said I weren't 'urt, brunno." Guaril had been difficult to live with for a year after but Tristaan didn't need to know that. "I missed you... but ye got tae do what ye got tae do. I imagine you learnt somethin' from being on yer own again."

Guaril rubbed at his thinning hair.

"I would like it if you didn't do it again, though. Ye could write tae yer old man, you know." He said, looking away, trying to hide the truth under the joking tone.

"Ye chen I left because I was afraid of hurtin' more than just you, an' I'm sorry I didn't know how t'explain at th'time. If I've learned anythin', it's what I'm capable of. An' some of what I'm not." Tristaan said honestly, not necessarily simply referring to his diablerie, "Now I know I ent gonna take out a city block by accident, so I guess that's worth somethin'."

He reached for the kettle and poured the hot water into mugs, letting whatever kind of tea the older wick decided he liked to have lying about steep. The passive looked thoughtful before replying further, "I coulda' wrote, oes. I s'pose I was aimless for a good while after leavin'. I ent sure if I ever really settled int'Old Rose, but I might have more of a reason t'do so now."

Tristaan's smile was wry, "Runnin' ent ever gotten me anywhere, but even you let me keep goin' 'til I found that out myself."

Guaril smiled warmly and shrugged, "Ent no point trying to live a kov's life for him. Seems the time away learnt you sommit."

All the talk of settling gave Guaril a happy thrill. Maybe...

"So, are ye thinkin' of settlin' with that young Sarinah? Or am I hearing you wrong." He said, excited by the idea.

A daughter in law!

Tristaan blushed, gray eyes widening briefly before he shifted where he sat, passing the older wick his tea without speaking right away. He stared at his own mug for a time, heavily thoughtful.

"Settle? You mean like marry. With bochi. An' all that." The passive looked up with a chuckle, expression a mix of embarrassment and wistfulness, "Ye chen I ent truly allowed t'do such a thing because of who I am, but Sarinah sure does make me feel like all that shouldn't matter." He smiled above the weight of fear in his chest, the constant, lingering fear of being found, "I dunno. I guess I'll have t'choose what I care 'bout more—"

He stopped, uncomfortable. Tristaan knew how he felt and could easily describe what he could see himself wanting. Really, he could even say the lovely witch seemed to fill in the empty places where he'd always felt something was missing, but at the same time some of those thoughts just made him more frightened.

The passive subtly changed the subject, but only in an attempt to hear Guaril's advice, "She knows what I am an' says it's benny. Even my diablerie ... for the first time ... she was there. I don't know what t'do with that ... if that makes sense. I'm still afraid."

He sighed, looking back into his tea.

Guaril patted Tristaan's knee in a conciliatory fashion. He sighed a bit, seemed all the old wounds hadn't closed yet.

"Ye know, brunno, ye really can't let your life be ruled by that. Nae one knows tae look at you. Unless ye go to Brunnhold sleeveless you're safe." Guaril actually quite wanted grandchildren and he thought Tristaan would be happy as a father. "Ye probably wouldn't have a 'mbali kid anyway and if you did, ye'd love em the same. I can't say I was more scared of your diablerie than your lack of sense as a boch."

Guaril pondered what to say next. Tristaan was, in many ways, like a horse that spooked just occasionally. You'd be riding along fine and making your way across rocky terrain, scaring rabbits, get home and you'd end up in the petunias because a scarf came off the line at the wrong time. You didn't really see it coming but sometimes you'd get a sense of it before it came.

"She doesn't look scared of you, Tristaan. I think that's an answer right there." He said reassuringly. "I'm not neither, you may have grown up a bit but you're still a weedy little thing."

((lol. horse metaphor is win.))

The passive laughed, personal tension diffused with Guaril's touch and the genuine warmth in his voice. At least someone made sense. Tristaan had always appreciated the older wick's blunt form of wisdom.

yes"I had sense'nough not t'mind, that's all." He grinned sheepishly from over his mug, "You let me be myself, which was more'n'I'd been able to do 'fore you took me in. It ent my fault 'myself' turned out t'be cheekier than you planned on."

Rolling his shoulders in an amused shrug, Tristaan added, "Sarinah's got little reason t'be scared of me, though I ent got th'slightest clue t'what I could stand t'offer a rosh like her. I s'pose she makes it easy t'pretend I've got somethin' worthwhile, but when I try lookin', I see nothin'."

The well-cultured, time-ingraned insecurities of growing up under the category of scrap had left a lasting mark on the passive's sense of worth, something that had been somewhat slowly peeled away under the careful patience of the Red Crow he could call family, but something that had still kept him wary of commitments and real romantic relationships before he drifted. He still found himself a little surprised, even chagrined, at just how much of his normal reservations he'd been able to let go of for the dancer. It was a curiously freeing but slightly disquieting experience.

"An' weedy or not, we both know that ent ever mattered. You made sure I could take care of myself. Alioe knows, I never would've known without you." Tristaan chuckled, self-depreciatingly and yet with obvious gratitude. It was with no small amount of pleasure that he allowed himself to tease Guaril in return, "You're jus'speakin' this way 'cause you want some pina bochi t'call you dagka. Oes?"

Guaril chuckled a little at the "nothing" comment. Oh, he remembered the days when Tristaan used to scream such things at him and then go sulk somewhere. With a chain of chips behind him sighing and cooing.

"Now yer just fishin' for compliments." He said, leaning over and ruffling Tristaan's hair. "En darn right I'd like to see some little ones runnin' about one day. That sort of thing is good for the soul."

His voice became more contemplative as he spoke. He'd had that once or the promise of it. Even after all these years he still wondered what might have been. Maybe Tristaan would have stayed if he'd had a daoa around as well.

"I think that this could make ye 'appy, brunno. I think it's done time for ye to be 'appy and not worrying ne more. You'll get old before your time." He smiled wryly, throwing his wrinkles into stark relief, mostly laughter lines.

Not all though.

"I think it's too late ... that old before my time part." Tristaan laughed, leaning back on his calloused palms. His voice wasn't bitter. It was just how it had been. What time he'd been given as a child had been brief and was mostly forgotten. He'd practically been an adult by the time he'd come to live with the Crows as it was, just one without any real understanding of the transition, "But I ent sure that's a fault of my own, neither. It ent like I had much of a childhood."

The passive shrugged, "An' you already know you're right. While I doubt I'll ever really be done worryin', it ent enough of an excuse t'keep from findin' some measure of happiness."

He smiled wistfully a moment, briefly wondering if – had he stayed – Guaril would've eventually pointed him in the same direction he was now, only with a Crow witch. He blinked, chagrined at the thought, though more than a little curious at the older wick's choice as well as how he'd even react. Tristaan chuckled, shaking his head,

"My heritage an' it's burdens aside, I ent in th'best sort of employment t'have a family ... if there even is a best sort of employment for such a thing. Hired sword work ent steady an' prolly a bit dangerous." He smirked, realizing that out of all his fears, the worry of proper provision was perhaps the most normal.

Guaril choked down a little hurt. He'd tried to give Tristaan a childhood, even though it had been a late one. He hoped that even if Tristaan wasn't saying it, that he had taken a measure of the experience from his time with the Crows.

"It ent too late to take up another job, brunno." Guaril said, pushing himself to sound supportive and encouraging. "You know how to throw a sword around but those ent the only skills I taught ye. You helped out around camp enough, ye've not a bad way with people. Yer future isn't yer past, boyo, if ye ever want to try something different I can 'elp ye figure it out."

Tristaan smiled wanly, concerned that he had somehow misspoke, understanding that he had a bad habit of coming across more negative than he perhaps honestly felt. The passive put a hand on the older wick's shoulder and looked apologetic, "Ne, da, I know you taught me more'n'what I sometimes choose t'be takin' advantage of. Don't think I'm sayin' y'ent done right by me. Alioe knows anytime someone calls me a balach, it's really all your hard work shinin' through."

He chuckled, thinking of Sarinah, "An' I might have some steady work ahead, all be it only slightly unconventional."

"We'll see, ol'man. I try t'be careful about th'work I take; I s'pose I was lookin' for trouble when I started. I know better now, though it ent like I hate what I do. As long as I'm not on a boat, that is."

Guaril snorted for a little while, one hand cupping his mouth before he gave up and just laughed.

"I was going to suggest ye become a fisherm'n!" He said, letting loose a deep belly laugh.

((SFSR))

((Not a bad time to end it, I think. Ve have covered ze basics.))