There's the slightest spring in Del's step as she goes about setting up for the grand opening of her smithy, Ironwood Ore and Timber. Hers. Something to be proud of, an accomplishment of something she had never dreamed was achievable, let along even possible for her. For so long, Del had thought she was destined to wander, aimless, throughout Charon until her bones came out or her past caught up with her.

That's not on her mind at the moment, though. The forge burns low, the anvil scoured until it shines. The countertops gleam with a fresh coating of linseed oil. Freshly made weapons line the wall behind the counter; Across from it, a neat array of boxes containing nails, horse-shoes, and other metal crafted every-day items. On the counter, though, sits a bottle of unopened Soul Blush; it had come highly recommended when she had stopped in at the clock-tower tavern the other day. It was for celebrating. For gratitude.

There was so much to be thankful for. And one man in particular.

Del would have to bring it, and her gift, to Cyran some time... perhaps tonight, when she returned to Shade's Valley after preparing for the next day. It would be busy, tomorrow, far too busy for her to slip away and bring him a glass of wine. What if he was working too, after all?

She had invited him to come by this evening, of course, but Del held no expectation. Cyran was frequently travelling for his work, and between that and the orphanage, she wouldn't be surprised if he couldn't find the time to come by today.

Nonetheless, Del was... prepared. Her clothes were dust and ash free, her hair freshly washed and trimmed, the ring that he had given her on Hearth's Day sporting a new, sturdier chain, and worn in plain view, sitting on her collarbone. She was in the process of sweeping in the floor for the umpteenth time, humming softly to herself as she slowly backed up toward the door, gently coaxing the tiny pile of dust towards the door iself, swaying back and forth as though dancing a little with the broom-- steps that were familiar now, thanks to her time on the Judeia with Cyran. Effervescent excitement and anticipation flutter against her ribs.

Not only because of her smithy, either.

There was nothing in the world that would stop Cyran from celebrating the opening of Del’s forge. It was an exciting prospect, for a number of reasons. He remembered what it was like to open Shade’s Valley, to have the satisfaction of knowing that he’d accomplished something worthwhile. After all the hard work she’d put into its construction and opening, Cyran wanted her to feel the same warmth. Another reason was that Del opening a forge here meant that she was here to stay, for the time being. When they’d meant, Cyran was entirely aware of the possibility that their friendship would last as long as Del was in town, until whatever drove her to wander eventually caught up with her. This was more permanent.

Real.

A reminder that Del was not merely a ghost of his imagination, a shadow that would slip through his fingers the moment he looked away.

He hummed to himself under his breath as he made his way down the street - Ironwood Ore and Timber was not too far away from Shade’s Valley. Del would still be occupying his guest room, an arrangement that Cyran was convinced she accepted out of convenience. She was a practical woman, after all. Not too practical, he hoped, for the small gift he’d gotten her in celebration of this grand opening. It was currently nestled in the back of his hood, alongside Yeux, who was slumbering away at this hour. It was a silly idea, really. Cyran had been down in Moonglade for the past few weeks, and had come upon a few of these curious animals. They were hard workers - as a symbol of Del’s success in the forge, it just felt… right. Not to mention he thought it would be awfully lonely in the smithy for hours of a day. At the very least, it would give her a companion while she worked.

Still, Cyran felt a twinge of… concern, perhaps, that Del would find it a silly gift. Perhaps he ought to have settled for flowers alone? He had some clutched in his hand, a gathering of sunflowers that had been quite difficult to get imported to Darkveil but were entirely worth it - it was the proper thing to do, but even this felt silly.

He felt ridiculous.

But over the nerves was the sheer happiness and pride for Del’s construction of such a place. He could see it now as he rounded the corner - built in an old foundry, though with a homey feel to it that made him feel welcome. Cyran steeled his nerves and knocked on the door before nudging it open.

“Good evening.” He bid, trying to hide his smile as he put on a mask of complete seriousness, as if pretending to be a customer before he stepped closer to her. “I hear you’re about to be open for business. I’d like to inquire about the construction of a metal vase… something to hold these in.”

He held out the bouquet to her, hoping that his cheeks were not too pink.

She heard the doors open slightly behind her as she sweeps up the pile of dirt into a tray, but it's the light, familiar voice that makes the smile break across her face. Even with her back turned-- and she did not mind having her back to Cyran in the least, knowing she could trust him with it-- she would know that voice anywhere. Chuckling, she puts the rest of the swept up pile in the bin and starts to turn around, continuing what she thinks is merely a teasing little joke.

"I'm sorry, we're not open until tomorrow, but I can get you on the list for-- oh!"[/color] the completion of her turn shifts her eyes from Cyran's nervous little smile to the beautiful, yellow bouquet of flowers in his hand, her own hand lifting to her mouth in surprise. "Oh-- goodness, Cyran, these are lovely! Where did you get them? Who ever are they for?" She turns again to reach for a notepad, now she was convinced he was not joking, that he was serious in his request, the idea that these flowers were for her was... impossible. She had never been gifted flowers before, so it did not occur to her that such a thing was a possibility. It hadn't crossed her mind until she felt a little twinge of... something, upon her first assumption that the flowers weren't for her, that the idea that they could be finally dawned on her.

She turned back around, eyes wide now, effectively having completed a full spin between him coming in the door a few seconds ago and now. He was offering them to her, not showing her them. The expression on her face is a raw one, lips parted in soft surprise, rapt, attentive, floored, a tightness in her chest and body that for some reason gives her the urge to cry at being... gifted something like this. It was rare enough for her to receive things from others, but this was a whole other thing.

She'd never gotten flowers before.

"Are... are they for me?" she murmurs, daring to hope. Del tentatively steps closer, eyes moving from the bouquet of sunshine to Cyran's pinkened face. Her smile widens, a slow spread of disbelief and wonder as her eyes connect with his; amber irises shining a little, from unshed tears. "I... I don't even know what to say. They're so beautiful. Thank you so much, I love them." Without thinking too much of it, a little overcome, she leans up to lightly kiss his cheek, gratitude spilling over into that little gesture.

Oh, but it doesn't feel so little the moment after that, and now, it's her turn to turn a new shade from her own blush. "Oh, ah, hmm. Right. Uh, yes," She clears her throat and gestures around her, beckoning him further into the shop and welcoming him in properly. "Come in, come in, we can, ah, find a spot for these, by the window. They're so lovely, I'm glad you could come, I was hoping you'd make it back in time. How was your trip?"

Cyran’s brows knit together while Del asked who the flowers were for, moving to grab her notepad and take down the order. Had she not known they were for her? Had he not made it clear enough? But as he opened his mouth to say something, Del suddenly twirled around, spinning on her feet in a full circle with the broom in her hands, eyes wide and lips parted in dawning disbelief. Cyran’s grip tightened on the parchment covered paper, momentarily - had he overstepped his bounds? His chest felt tight, a sensation that was both his and not his.

“I… is this okay?”

She took a step closer, staring at the sunflowers like they were a precious treasure that she was not allowed to have. The thought that she hadn’t received a gift as small as flowers before only made him more angry on her behalf. She deserved the world - Cyran might not have been able to give that to her, but he could settle for the sun instead.

“I’m glad you -“

He immediately fell silent as Del leaned over, pressing a feather-light kiss to his cheek.

“Oh, goodness.”

Goodness? Now why the hell did he say that?

He blinked, bringing his hand up to rest on his cheek, the place where she had just kissed him. The skin still felt warm. In a pleasant daze, he followed her further into the shop while Del searched for a place to put the flowers. Remembering her previous question, he replied, “Ah. They’re from a field I visited in King’s Valley on the way home. They’re sunflowers - be sure to place them in a place with a lot of light, they like to face the sun. I’m glad you like them.”

He offered her a smile while he observed the inside of the shop, running his fingers idly along one of the tables. The front room was homey and warm, and not just from the heat of the forge. Weapons of various shapes and sizes hung on the wall behind the counter, along with more practical items: horseshoes, silverware, children’s toys, each one demonstrating Del’s versatility and prowess. The kind of place that could handle the diverse needs of Darkveil’s clientele.

Yes, this place was going to be successful. Cyran could feel it.

And if she ran into any trouble…

Well. He kept his blades close for a reason.

He turned his attention back to her, putting that train of thought aside. It was not at all surprising he’d be willing to consider murder for her sake. If it came between the thugs of Darkveil and Del, there was no question.

“My trip was good. Moonglade was…” He shrugged, suddenly troubled. “It seems as if they’re experiencing the same tremors that we are up here. I mostly spent my downtime trying to help patch up homes after a small earthquake. I even fought a demonic sheep while helping a farmer retrieve his livestock. Oh-! That reminds me, I brought something else for you too, in celebration of your shop opening. I can give it to you now, if you’d like.”

He let out a sheepish laugh.

“I may… have gone a touch overboard. I have been quite excited over this grand opening. An achievement like this is worth celebrating.” Then, quieter, “I wouldn’t have missed it for the world.”

"I love them." How could she not? They're little pieces of sunshine, in a place that was usually covered in clouds of ash and smoke. They remind her of her own travels, and the fact that Cyran went out of his way, kept them well and alive through his journey through King's Valley, thought of her...

Her stomach does an odd little flip. He had brought her these, intentionally. How... impossibly sweet.

Her expression softens further at his quieter words, her smile one that seemed to melt across her lips from the warmth in her chest. "I will, I think they'll be perfect in the window, won't they? Then everyone will be able to see them from the street." Rummaging through the shelves, she found a narrow tube to temporarily store them in, using water from her quench to fill it as she set the bouquet to the window. Del bowed her head to smell the blooms, feeling the rush of tingling warmth that accompanied the scent.

Del turns back toward Cyran, curious at first of the resolute fierceness she feels through their connection, though it's quickly gone, replaced by his answers of his trip to Moonglade. A frown of concern touches her face, worried; it wasn't just the Ash Lands? It made sense here, in the mountain range, near a volcano, but so far away, on the other side of the continent, the quakes mirrored those here?

Something instinctual touches against her internal alarm, a distant call for preparation and certainty. Her expression reflected Cyran's, troubled and concerned. They had both been around long enough to know the signs of the winds of change. It was hard to believe that something already so devastating was but a mere herald for what was to come, but more and more, it certainly seemed that Charon was heading towards something big. Especially after everything involving the Gods. Still, she can't help but feel inordinately pleased, delighted even, when Cyran details how he had helped patch up homes there.

"I'm glad you could take some time to do that. I'm sure it was very appreciated-- wait, did you say Demonic sheep?" Her brows arch with a soft snort at the description-- though her expression becomes one of surprise again, hand rising to her chest. A gift?

Beneath her ribs, Del can feel her heart racing. No one had done anything like this for her before. Cyran's earnestness, that he wouldn't have missed her grand opening for anything, make her eyes sting again. Those words were a gift all their own.

Gifts-- she scarcely knew what to do with herself. He had gone out of his way for her, a little embarassed by his own desire to simply give her things. Was this what it was like to be doted upon?

"Cyran, I--- I don't even know what to say. You are incredible, you know that?" Del can't help but smile, shaking her head in fond disbelief. "You didn't have to go to so much trouble for me, but I am... well, I appreciate it, truly. I'm not used to..." her voice trails, unsure of how to finish the sentence before her lips become a quiet, appreciative smile again, "I'm used to being the one who gifts things to people, I suppose. I would love to see what else you brought with you? Oh, and I got you something, too," Del moves to the counter as she holds up the bottle of wine she had picked up a couple of days prior, smiling shyly. Two wooden goblets sit near where the bottle had been placed. Tucked against the glass of the wine bottle is a wooden flower, an intricately carved long-stemmed rose. One of her specialties. "This is for you. The wine... I thought we could, ah, share it together. Catch up a little, if you had time? You first, though." She excitedly pulls a couple of stools over to the counter, offering one to Cyran as she sits at the other, leaning forward with gentle excitement at what Cyran might have brought with him.

Cyran could feel Del’s worry as he described the tremors that wracked Moonglade. He wouldn’t sugarcoat things - that the world was shaking so far away from the volcano was not a good sign. Though the tremors had not been violent, they stood for something deeper than he could rightfully place. Trouble was spreading. Though the common people of Moonglade had no idea what the quakes might have meant, the overwhelming, foreboding sense of danger lingered in the air, in broken fences that needed to be mended and the unease that permeated in the villagers that waited on bated breath for the next quake.

So much tension in the world… for a moment, that worry permeated this bubble that existed around them, threatening to shatter it entirely. Cyran shook those thoughts away, watching as Del flitted about, enjoying the sunflowers with a serene expression on her face.

“Yes, but now isn’t the time for such a heavy topic.” Cyran cleared his throat, changing the subject. “Now is a celebration of your accomplishments. The worries of the world can wait for another day - this is far more important.” The world would not burn if she let herself be happy for a couple of hours, rather than taking on these burdens.

As he spoke about the other gift he’d gotten for her, Del went silent for a long time. Cyran paused - had he made her uncomfortable? Those worries were eased as she insisted she was grateful, merely surprised that she’d been thought of, that she was on the receiving end of attention for once. “I understand the feeling.” He hummed, taking a step closer to her, where she’d pulled out the wine bottle and glasses. “Truly, it’s not much, but… you give so much to others. It’s only natural I would want to show you how much that is seen, and appreciated.”

His eye flitted towards the intricately carved wooden flower - now it was Cyran’s turn to be surprised. “You made that?” He whispered, unable to look away. Something that she had put time and effort into crafting and carving, that wasn’t even meant to be displayed in the shop. Something so lovely… for his eyes only. He sat down at one of the benches, picking up the intricate statue, running his fingers along the wooden petals with a feather-light touch, as if afraid it would break apart in his hands.

“This is… beautiful. Are you sure you want me to have this? I don’t…” I don’t know if I deserve such a thing.

Goodness, his own gift felt rather lazy and small in comparison. He cradled the rose before setting it back down, still painfully gentle, cautious of accidentally snapping the leaves and thorns and petals that looked far prettier than anything an assassin ought to be allowed to touch.

Cyran reached two hands into his hood, earning a squeal of protest from Yeux at being disturbed from his slumber, though the bat offered no further protest as Cyran grabbed the small, sleeping, fuzzy passenger nestled inside. “It truly isn’t much, but I know that you’ll be working long hours here.” And he knew how easily she could allow herself to get distracted with her work until hours had passed, unable to pull herself away from a project until someone else pulled her away. “I thought a companion might be nice to keep you company. These little creatures are commonplace down in Moonglade, and they - ah, they remind me a bit of you. Hard workers, dedicated. I thought, if you’re going to work here, at least it would be nice not to be… alone.”

He paused, setting the flitten down on the table. The tiny creature stirred awake, fluttering its wings at the same time it dipped into a stretch, tiny paws pattering against the surface of the table.

“If you don’t think you can care for an animal, either, I completely understand!” He waved his hand while the flitten padded closer to Del, curious about the newcomer who smelled of metal shavings and the rain after the storm. “And I would love to celebrate with you… you didn’t have to buy wine, I should have thought to get some myself. At the very least, please let me pay you - this is your night, you shouldn’t have to pay for anything.” He rambled before taking a sharp breath, composing himself. “- Yes, let us catch up. Nothing would make me happier.”

Gods, he was a proper mess.

Del gives Cyran a shy smile; she knew he was sparing her some of the details of his journey, but she knew that was merely on pause until a more appropriate time. He was being considerate of her, in this moment. Her moment. Still, more important than the worries of the world? She could never claim such a thing.

But feeling the certainty and conviction through the connection of their rings... she could believe Cyran, at least. "For you? I can do that." It was a tall order, though. There seemed to be much to worry about.

Yet, Cyran is an expert at distracting her. She watches as he lifts up the flower she gave him, an unsettled feeling in her chest, as though her heart was wringing its hands. "I did, yes!" she smiles as Cyran turns the stem over in his hands delicately, as though he holds a thing of wonder and not a simple flower carved from wood. Though when he calls it beautiful, it does something to the inside of her head, painting the word a bright, lovely colour.

Amber eyes blink owlishly in surprise as he asks her if she is sure about her gift, before she breaks into a teasing smile. "Of course I am, Cyran. I make these sorts of things all the time-- flowers are one of my favourite things to carve when I'm on the road, but this one, I made specifically for you. You could have them all, in fact, if you wanted."

Her eyes widen a little as the words leave her mouth. It was no less true, but... oh, perhaps it was the truth of it that made her heart tremble for a moment there.

Clearing her throat, she watches as Cyran removes something from his hood. At first she thinks it is just Yeux, hearing the squeal of protest and giggling sympathetically. Her brows come together in a light, curious pinch above her eyes. Companion? Dedicated? (oh, it felt... nice to be called that) Someone to keep her company.

And yet it fit in the palm of his hand? She watches as he unfurls his hands and the tiniest, sweetest little kitten stepped onto the counter. Del gasps, holding a hand to her mouth. It was... so impossibly small and fluffy and cute and darling. Cyran is still talking, mentioning something about the wine and that she shouldn't have had to pay for it. Robbed of words, of anything other than pure gratitude and delight, Del lifts off her stool to throw her arms around Cyran in a tight hug. Truly she had missed him. And he came back from his fraught journey, with her in mind, and giving her precious, thoughtful, incredible gifts.

Del was unsure of what she had done to deserve this sort of wonderful treatment.

It takes her a second to recompose herself, tears now actively touching the corners of her cheeks as she pulls back, swiping at her eye. "Sorry, I just-- I should have asked first. Thank you, Cyran, I love them. I haven't had a... pet companon before, and it's... oh, they're perfect." Sniffling lightly, she pulls back to lightly offer her finger to the flitten to sniff. "But, yes, ah. It is my night and i must insist on treating a dear friend to a bottle of wineeeeeeeee--" Del has to lift a hand to halt her little squeal as the flitten nuzzles her finger with his head and mewls softly, fluttering his gossamer wings in approval.

“… All of them?” What a large promise. Cyran stared down at the wooden flower clutched between his fingers, something soft and beautiful carved from something so rough and solid. Looking at this construction, it was difficult to believe that something so detailed had been constructed from human hands and not magic. In a way, he supposed that this craftsmanship was a type of magic - a labor of love rather than mana. And the idea that Del would offer them all to him without any hesitation at all… it felt too much. He pressed the flower to his chest, slowly shaking his head. For reasons he couldn’t describe, her promise felt a lot like offering this part of her heart only to him, and that was something he couldn’t bring himself to take. Not when it meant being so selfish.

When he spoke, his voice wavered a bit. “I… I could never ask you to give me all of your flowers.” He said after a moment’s thought. Besides, it occurred to him, he already had his own personal flowers from her. Those little blooms that sprouted in her hair when she was happy or embarrassed, trailing behind gold in her wake. Cyran had only seen it happen a few times, aboard the Judeia and in his dream at the Fenastra manor, but those times had been special. It was probably silly to think of them this way, but he fancied them a little garden bloomed just for him.

And that was enough.

“Thank you, Del.” He managed eventually, throat thick with emotion. “I think this would go perfect on my desk.” He could put it in a small vase next to his portraits in Shade’s Valley. He set the flower down, just long enough to pull out the flitten and set it down on the table. Any worry he had about the gift being too much evaporated as Del brought her hands up to her mouth, letting out a small gasp, before picking herself up and throwing herself around Cyran. It was all he could do to prevent himself from being knocked over by her strength - and by the gods, she was strong - but he’d be damned if he failed to catch her and hold her tight.

When she pulled back, there were tears in the corner of her eyes. Before he could think too hard about what he was doing, Cyran reached up and brushed a thumb along the corner of her cheek, wiping away a stray tear that she’d missed. “No, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to… make you cry.” He hummed, watching fondly as Del allowed herself to become acquainted with the little fellow, who had begun to inspect their new companion before finally deciding that they very much enjoyed her, letting out a little sound that caught Del off guard, and her words trailed off into a delighted squeal.

The scene was so adorable it made Cyran’s heart clench.

“These creatures are common in the Moonglade regions… adorable little things, aren’t they? They’re pollinator animals - I used to watch them flit around the gardens that I, um, showed you.”

He cleared his throat. It felt odd to bring up that place that Del had seen, knowing that they hadn’t really talked yet about that night. Cyran wasn’t sure what to say, and Del hadn’t probed, and it was this unspoken thing that lay between them. For the longest time, Cyran had felt too ashamed to say anything… but given what he’d learned from Eameia, secrets about Del that not even the woman herself seemed aware of, they were both haunted by their past. It didn’t feel as daunting to trust her with his own ghosts anymore.

Especially considering that she’d, ah, been the one to punch Rowan’s lights out. Rowan Pavyre may have been a noblewoman, but it was hard not to see that Del had looked utterly regal in that moment.

“Anyways.” He hummed. “I’m glad you like them… I know you used to travel on the road a lot, and settling down a bit doesn’t mean you’ll be here forever. I was alone on the road, too, for a long time, but I’ve learned that having an animal companion eases that feeling. You’re never truly on your own.”

He let out a quiet laugh.

“And it looks like the two of you are already getting along swimmingly.”

His gaze drifted towards the bottle of wine… that must have been the one that Del bought from the Rookery when she visited. He sold those bottles to customers on occasion when he bartended there. It hadn’t occurred to him why she might need one when they went to visit Zarius, and with everything that happened that trip, it was easy for that query to slip his mind.

Well, if she wanted to share, he didn’t think he could deny her anything.

The corner of his eye crinkled as he smiled. “Then let’s enjoy one together, shall we? I’d love to hear all about the construction efforts while I was away. Catch me up on what I missed.”

Of course Cyran would never ask Del for all her flowers. It would be highly impractical, to say the least, for him to own all the wooden flowers that she could produce. Nonetheless, Del resolves as she watches Cyran hold the wooden flower to his chest, his voice a little thick, thanking her for this admittedly paltry gift, that they are all his, regardless. In his hands, a simple flower does not feel quite so inane.

Del freezes for an instant as Cyran's hand lifts to her face, to brush away a tear, and she feels like crying again, suddenly. Instead, she laughs softly, her voice a little shaken at the tender gesture. "You have nothing to be sorry for-- these are good tears," She assures him, her gaze drifting down again to the Flitten, who was now clambering onto her hand to try and sniff this strange person who smelled of wood and smoke and flowers.

"I had no idea," She murmurs, lifting her gaze once again to Cyran. Another little peek into his childhood, him as a person. The place in those dreams were horrible, but the gardes had been a sanctuary. It is't hard to imagine Cyran, studying in the garden, looking up to watch flitten dart back and forth between hollyhocks trilling and fluttering as they went. "I am honoured you thought of me when you found this little one, especially knowing they frequented your garden. Now I shall have to gather more flowers, so you can come and watch him flit about. Hellooo." She coos at the Flitten as he ascends her arm, batting at the ring around her necklace. "You think so? I don't have much frame of reference, but he seems pretty entertained. Oh, goodness, he needs a name, doesn't he?"

While she mulls that over, she reaches over to decanter the bottle, pouring Cyran a glass first and then herself. "I'd love nothing more," She slides the glass over to him with a shy smile. The movement makes the Flitten leap into the air, fluttering his little wings back over to Cyran, where he lands on the wooden flower, sniffing it to inspect, before getting bored and batting playfully at the cuff of Cyran's sleeve.

"Oh construction... it went well, actually. Benefit of being a carpenter and a smith. Finding the anvil took the longest, honestly," she says as she looks around, smiling faintly, proud of her work. "I had to get one brought down from a dwarvish settlement in the Dragon's Crade. A lot of the structure was already here when I made the purchase. Though I did make an add-on for that," she gestures back to the door and up, where there was a little loft that wrapped around the upper level, where one might have a nice nap. Or lie in wait for ambush. Either way, the structure looked sturdy. "Though this is ah. Just the shop. I don't intend to spend my nights here." she fiddles with the stem of her wine glass for a moment, suddenly intent on watching the Flitten. "I... rather have enjoyed being with you-- and the others, of course, in the orphanage. It's been better than... most of these past years. I'd like to remain, if I could. Unless you wanted to make better use of that room of course. I would, ah, understand." She adds quickly, now blushing furiously at herself for being so forward.

All of a sudden, he felt foolish for making such an impulsive action. It was just second nature at this point to wipe away tears when he saw them, to provide comfort. But Del was not one of his kids, far from it… that didn’t mean the instinct to hold her when she was distressed wasn’t there. “Ah, okay, good. It is - it’s habit, I suppose.”

He watched fondly as the two became acquainted with one another, the flitten dancing around her arm on little adventurous paws determined to carry himself through such a big world. He soon became distracted by the shiny part of her necklace, already a little bundle of terror and curiosity. “He looks very much entertained. In a place like this, I don’t think he would get bored at all.” There was so much for him to explore… though there were also a lot of weapons. Perhaps he’d have to help Del find some flowers to plant in here. The flitten might like a windowsill garden like the one they had in the kitchen back at Shade’s Valley.

“A name? I hadn’t thought of one. I’d imagined that perhaps he would be named after some carpentry tool or such…” He shrugged. “Though with how tiny he is, he’d be more of a woodchip than a whittling knife.”

Given the fact that the Shade’s Valley mare was named Bespoke Horse, and his personal steed was named Nightmare, it would be readily apparent that Cyran was not especially adept at naming things aside from daggers. Even then, from their names it was easy to intuit their function, names designed to make them distinct though with little personality or flair. Perhaps it would be best if he didn’t contribute to this one - it was Del’s companion, after all.

He settled for listening as Del described the construction efforts, pouring them both glasses of wine. It was a good bottle, evident even from the aroma coming from the glass - with one hand he lifted the glass, swirling the drink around in his hand while the flitten pawed at his wrist. Cyran laughed, lifting his hand in the air to wiggle his fingers, bringing the shadow cast by the flitten to life. The inky black of the darkness took form, creating an incorporeal shadow flitten that crouched with its hind legs poised in the air, challenging the little creature to play. He moved his fingers like a puppet pulling at a marionette, manipulating the artificial creature so it pranced and danced around the flitten.

All the while, he kept his gaze trained on Del, sipping at his wine.

“It’s beautiful.” He appraised, staring at the shop’s surroundings. There was love and care in each piece. “I’m excited to see what you make of it… and I’m glad there wasn’t too much complication with its construction.”

She turned his attention to the loft nearby, and…

Ah.

Admittedly, it had not occurred to Cyran that Del opening the shop meant that she would likely build her own lodgings here. It was only natural she’d want a place of her own. He bit his lip, ears flicking backwards as he tried to hide his disappointment at the prospect of her leaving the guest room - or, Del’s room, really, as he’d stopped thinking of it as the guest room ages ago. He loved having Del around. She was good with the kids, Oriole liked her, and… Andromeda tolerated her, which was as good as it got with the surly young woman. Life in Shade’s Valley was brighter with her in it.

He dared to hope when she said she didn’t intend to sleep here.

“Yes!” He said, a little too quickly, as soon as Del asked the question he hadn’t thought would come. Face reddening, hoping he hadn’t sounded too desperate, Cyran buried his face in his wine glass. “I mean, yes. I would be more than happy if you wanted to stay. The room is yours. I - we - you would be sorely missed if you decided to move out…” Stop talking, Cyran, “So it would be lovely if you decided to stay. With me. Us! Us.”

"It's... it's a good habit," She gives Cyran a shy smile. Her cheek still burns where he brushed away her tears "I only wanted to reassure you that I wasn't upset. I wouldn't want to, ah, dissuade you from your... natural reflex."

Not at all because she felt terribly cared for when he did it and that it made her heart flutter, no. That would be incredibly selfish.

She laughs at Cyran's little joke, before her head tilts thoughtfully to one side. "He is like a woodchip, isn't he? Chip. Now there's a wonderful name. What do you think, little one?"

Chip had, of course, busied himself with attacking and playing with the shadow Cyran had brought to life, and was thoroughly engaged in a very intense game of tag with his unexpected playmate, now scampering across the counter as part of the chase. Del chuckles, lifting her eyes to Cyran, watching him, the gentle mirth on his face as he played with the tiny Flitten while he listened to her words, feeling a little ache of her own to see him so at ease. His smile touched the lines of his face with a softness she could not help but adore. A feeling she washes down with a sip of wine.

Shoving that down, Del casts a look of pride at her surroundings, pleased with her work. She could only hope Maruyama, wherever his soul was, looked at her work with some sort of approval as well. Though, Cyran's assessment truly meant the world. He knew his stuff when it came to bladed instruments, and if he thought her work, her set up here in Darkveil was 'beautiful', then who was she to deny him his opinion? Especially when it made something in her chest twist, like her body wished to wring elation out of every word that saturated her heart.

And it only further felt dense and heavy with whatever feeling was being soaked up when Cyran's eager acceptance of her request was voiced. Del can feel the tips of her ears burning with her blush-- she hadn't expected him to say yes, though for whatever reason, she had no idea why she had thought that. A brilliant smile blooms across her face-- she could stay? She would have been missed? Del takes a quick sip of wine to cover some of her shakiness, before she returns her beaming smile on Cyran. "Really? I mean... yes, of course, if you're sure. Nothing would make me happier."

She fidgets with the stem of the wine glass for a moment, trying to clear out the ecstatic butterflies that were assaulting her nerves at the moment. Words. How did words work, again?

"So, ah... how, how was your trip? You were in Moon Glade for a while, how did that go?" she asks, doing her best to be casual as she takes another, longer, sip of wine.

“Chip is an adorable name.” The little flitten was too distracted fighting against his shadow self to agree one way or another, but it seemed a fitting enough moniker for the little fellow. Cyran smiled, watching the little animal companion attempt to pounce on the shadow, only to grow confused as the shadow suddenly manifested at another part of the table. This game of cat and mouse, or… cat and shadow cat continued, Cyran only occasionally manipulating the construct to do something unexpected to throw Chip off guard. At this moment, he felt relaxed, at ease, enough so that the regular tension in his shoulders, on guard for any threat, began to bleed out.

That relaxed feeling only grew as Del asked if it was okay for her to stay in the guest room. She wasn’t planning on going anywhere.

… Hmm. He hadn’t thought about how it would feel if she moved out, or why her loss would feel so bleak. He just knew that it would. They’d inexplicably grown close over the last few weeks, in a way that just felt natural, until he hadn’t even noticed that her presence in his life was a solid thing, something he’d taken for granted. Perhaps, in part, it had to do with the ritual that they’d incidentally committed, but Cyran had a feeling that wasn’t the case. That might have been the reason that they’d grown closer, but it wasn’t the reason that they’d found a connection in the first place. Nothing supernatural had been involved in that. Just mutual friendship and respect.

“Good. Yes, I as well. For you to stay, I mean.” He huffed. “The kids would be sad if you left, as well. They’ve grown quite happy having you around.”

Cyran decided against thinking deeper along that line of thinking by taking a sip of his wine and considering Del’s next question.

“Moonglade was as... nervous as the rest of the world has been, I suppose.” There was no other way to put it. Cyran knew he’d asked to speak on happier thoughts earlier, though there was no sugarcoating what had brought him south. Little tremors had been plaguing the sleepy forest vale - ironically, it was not a contract that brought him south, but a job from an old friend. An earthquake that had devastated a research facility, setting rocks loose across one of Veliky’s compounds. He’d done some work for her, then helped out around the country take care of things that had been destroyed in the quakes.

“It was mostly uneventful… aside from that fight I mentioned earlier.”

He sipped at his wine.

“I met a kid while I was down there.” Probably the last sentence anyone wanted to hear Cyran utter, as it was usually followed by, they remind me of my children, which was usually followed by I think I’m going to bring them home for dinner one of these days, and then before anyone knew it that poor, unfortunate kid had entered Cyran’s gaggle of young adults that he kept an eye on during his travels. He couldn’t rightfully call them his own children, as he’d not actually adopted any of them, though secretly, it was nice to think of them as such.

This particular statement, though, did not precede any of those statements. Cyran merely drummed his fingers against the table, thoughtful.

“A young fellblood. His name was Javal. He was a sweet kid, pretty naive. We ended up getting into a fight together, against the aforementioned demonic livestock.” He laughed. “My trip was uneventful otherwise… though it was quite an interesting experience being approached by someone who started conversation with ‘do you want to be my friend’?”

"I'm, ah. Ahem. Glad to hear it." She manages to get the words out, a little smile twisting her lips into a crooked nervousness that threatens to become incredibly flustered if she didn't get a grip on it. That he felt the children were... happy to have her around spurred an inexplicably light sensation within her that made her feel like there was too much blood rushing between her ears. She fiddles more with the stem of the wine glass and has to remind herself not to snap it between her forefinger and thumb. Quietly, she lifts it to her lips for a sip, softly admitting "It's a home I am honoured to be part of."

She nods, sagely, swirling her wine in her glass a little as she listens to Cyran, alternating between his face and watching the flitten play with his shadow. The demonic sheep, yes, he had mentioned that. And the tremors that had so many people on edge. That was a nervous little thing in the back of her mind to be cognizant of, but for the moment, she would keep those thoughts far, far away, until later when they could be properly dealt with. Del's best coping mechanism, after all, was making plans for every possible eventuality. Now, she had so much more to protect than just herself. She had a place to live. A home she was excited to return to at the end of the day. People that were worth fighting for, someone that she--

Del swallows the word down with a larger sip of wine. Ah. The alcohol. Of course. Had to be careful with that.

Though the introduction of a kid was new. She quirks an eyebrow as she listens. "Oh! Javal!" Del gives Cyran an eager look of recognition. "I've met him and his group, not that long ago! I was making my way back from Zeinav. They were waylaid by some bandits, and I stepped in, but the problem went a lot deeper than just the single incident on the road. I started a book of pressed flowers to show the kids." She ought to do just that with one of the lovely sunflowers Cyran had brought for her. A thought that still made her incomprehensibly giddy for some reason.

"It sounds like you two had a fair bit of trouble, thanks to that sheep, mm?" Del chuckles softly, her smile easy and her posture loose. It was so easy to relax in Cyran's presence. "I think he's mainly residing in Darkveil now. At the very least, we can do something about that naievete. Try and keep him safe from the, ah. The city." she gestures vaguely to the window with a quiet scoff.

“You started a flower press book?” Cyran’s eye glimmered in interest at the admission. He was always interested in the new hobbies and habits that Del picked up the longer he got to know her. She seemed to come to life as she spoke about the world, and the things that enchanted her about it. “Maybe after we finish up the wine you could show me? I’d love to see the collection you’ve gathered.” Inwardly, he couldn’t help but feel a bit of pride. Cyran had thought the sunflowers might be a bit too much, but maybe Del would find some use for them in her collection. He wouldn’t presume that she’d want to put them in with the others, but at least they would find some use when they dried and wilted. And perhaps they would remain a nice memory for her in the future, looking back upon the day of the opening of her shop.

He hummed.

“He always seems to find himself in odd situations.” Cyran agreed. The bravado that only the youth could have, combined with the naïveté of someone who still refused to see the bad in the world made for a bit of a handful. But Javal was bright, and it was easy to see why he made so many friends. Hearing that he resided in Darkveil of all places, though, came as a bit of a shock.

Admittedly there had not been much small talk between them when they were fighting for their lives, but Javal’s place of residence hadn’t come up. Cyran couldn’t picture him living in a crime city, but if he was going to be staying here for a while, Cyran figured there was nothing for the both of them to do but to keep an eye on the young fellblood.

A monumental task, surely.

“We probably should.” Cyran admitted. Darkveil was a dangerous place, and it was only growing worse by the day. Hellhounds in the streets, quakes… so much that it was difficult for one person to keep track of. But it wasn’t Cyran’s job to focus on the bigger picture. If he could help just one person, then that was something worthwhile. Protecting the common people was for heroes and adventurers. Cyran would settle for taking care of those he loved.

And that included the woman in front of him.

Er, love in the general sense - love as in a loved one, not…

Well.

Either way it included the woman across from him, whose eyes sparkled with mirth and her smile felt easygoing and relaxed with the wine and the conversation. Cyran didn’t want this moment to end, with how light it was.

Cyran raised his wine glass, a smile quirking at his lips.

“Though that, too, can wait until later. For now…” He inclined his glass in toast. “A congratulations to a wonderful woman, and a successful business is in order, I believe. Tonight is a night to celebrate the good parts of the future. The parts that matter.” His voice was quiet, but genuine. “I’m very happy for you, Del.”

Suddenly bashful, Del gives Cyran a shy smile, tucking a curl behind her pointed ear. He wanted to see? That was... she didn't know why it was unexpected. Perhaps she was still getting used to someone being interested in the little pursuits, projects, and interests she tended to explore. Getting to be an individual with someone was a welcome, enthralling experience, and yet, still so new, compared to how she had spent her last forty years. "I'd ah. I would love that. To show you." She fiddles more with the wine glass, thinking of more words to say, but nothing else comes.

Instead, Del is more than happy to listen to Cyran speak about Javal, laughing at the reluctant admittance in his voice as he agreed that they ought to do something about that optimism and naievete that might just get Javal hurt, or worse. Still, the young man was quite capable, and had a group with which he could rely on. Perhaps it wouldn't be so difficult.

Cyran raising his glass in toast to her is what jars her from her thoughts, blinking in surprise. Again, she feels a warmth rush throught her body, flooding to the tips of her ears to stain them a darker shade. Feeling shy again, she lifts her wine glass, brimming with a variety of feelings; anxiety, joy, apprehension, pride, affection, something that made her tremble at being called 'wonderful'. And looking into the single silver eye across from her, with the gentle smile and the sincere words of Cyran, something within her shifts, like loose sand starting its cascade down a dune.

Cyran had given her so much. A home, a sense of belonging... a purpose, in many ways. How adrift had she been before she had met Cyran? How much had he expanded her world, and brought her things to make it brighter, fill it with joy, celebrate her? She could not even remember her own name day, and Cyran had a knack for making her feel incredibly special, with even the simplest of actions. It was a talent she admired. She admired a great many things about Cyran, really.

She would not even have a future, if not for him.

Clearing her throat, Del gently touches her glass to his, clinking together in the "Thank you. I'm... happy, too."

A truer word never spoken.

"And thank you for being here with me today. It means the world that you're here. Ah, Chip." She coos as the little Flitten comes up to them, a petal from the sunflowers in his mouth, mewling plaintively, commanding the Big Ones to admire what he had caught all by himself. "And thank you again for your wonderful gifts. I... I truly have no words for how much I appreciate them. Chip is right at home, it seems."

And so was she.