Del watches Andromeda go with a downward tug to her lips-- it difficult to see her taking it so hard, unwilling to take words of encouragement to heart. She held a lot of blame on those narrow shoulders. As she looks to Cyran, mouthing the explanation of the young woman's guilt, Del nods slowly. She understood that altogether too well. She only hoped that Andromeda would give herself grace for the experience.

Grace that she had to learn to give herself, too. The back of her mind was filled with the notion that this was still all her fault. That she needed to do something to mend this situation as best as she could, whatever that was. But, as Cyran relaxes against her, the side of his head touching hers, she finds she cannot muster even the anxiety at the moment. The only thing on her mind is the lofty bliss of being unapologetically close to the one she most admired, the weight of his arm settled across her shoulder, and the indescribable relief of having him with her still. The anxieties could wait. This, watching the children eat, sitting next to Cyran in comfort and relative safety, was all she needed. She squeezes around his middle with her one arm, a light side hug where they sit.

Her chest twinges as Cyran turns her hand over in his, to hold it properly. Del's gaze follows his, feeling a swelling pressing against her lungs as he speaks sweet words to her; Admiration, adoration, pride, gratitude. It's hard not to feel overwhelmed by such kind words, words Del knew he meant. They were not facetious, or idle flatterly, they were things about her that he truly, earnestly believed. That whatever the Crucible was, whatever people had wanted to use her for, that she was good, and was a fixer of things. That the things she made were beautiful. That her hands had helped him too.

"I... you say such... sweet things," she watches how his lithe and graceful hand encompasses hers, feeling secure in a way only he could ever make her feel. Her voice feels thick again, her eyes stinging now. "If I helped to inspire you to be present after all you've been through... I am truly honoured by that, my Rogue." Delicately, she traces the lines of his palm with a crook of her finger, allowing him to still hold her hand and only moving her fingertips against his palm, learning the paths and roads that were Cyran himself. "You are stronger and more resilient than you give yourself credit for. You are also kinder, more gentle, more sincere and more wonderful than I think you know. And you helped me, too. I never thought..." She lifts her eyes back to the table full of children for a moment, feeling her heart swell once more. "I did not think I would ever find a place to belong, much less a home, much less someone to share it with. I did not think I deserved to be among anyone, either, not... not after the life I lived. You showed me it was possible." Del adjusts a little to nuzzle the corner of her cheek against his, an ever so slight press of affection. "You gave me that. You brought colour into to my world. You are more than your knives, your past, and the Fallen Star-- but I would not trade those things for anything, because they are part of you."

Her brows lift a little as heat rushes to her face. Here they were confessing their feelings for one another, and she was getting flustered over being asked on a date?? She fidgets a little with his fingers, before coiling her pinky around his.

On both their hands, she realized, they wore their rings. Attending a gallery... As his partner.

Life was too short to not allow themselves to be happy. They were old, too, older than their friends as far as she knew. They had lived long lives without being as happy as they were together. Why in the world would they ever walk away from something so incredible?

"I-- I would love nothing more." she beams at him, looking down at their joined hands before finally daring to lift her gaze back up to Cyran's. In spite of the pain, the terror, the kidnapping, she felt overcome by her joy. "I've never been to a gallery before. I, ah. Look forward to spending that time. With you."

For once, Cyran held his mouth shut and remained silent while Del spoke. He did not say such things to her in hopes of hearing praise back, spoken with a gentle firmness like those awful things about him truly didn’t matter to him. It made the skin at the back of his neck prickle, like swallowing a bitter pill. They should have mattered - he was no saint and he could not imagine he was easy to love, what with all the skeletons in his closet. Ghosts of his past that quite literally refused to leave despite his best efforts. Now how in the world could that be possible to love? And yet, Del made it seem easy. He’d once thought himself too broken to consider love, that those weren’t feelings he was capable of. This, too, she’d proven him wrong in.

Pressed cheek to cheek, he could not angle himself to look at her. Perhaps it was best if he could not, for he had a feeling if he saw her face and all the love in it he might crumble all again. People made wishes on falling stars, or so he heard. Cyran wondered if Del had wished, too. And if she had, he only hoped he could grant it.

He beamed when she accepted his offer. A real, genuine outing together. There had been much pain, much hardship to get to this point. The aches of sharing secrets and being torn from one another’s side. How silly, all the pining felt in retrospect. When he could have just… asked, and she would have said yes. Perhaps they would have wasted much less time. But Cyran could not regret everything that had happened up to this point. After all, every moment, every longing gaze, every evening spent together in a bed while trying to push aside unwanted feelings, it had all led up to this moment.

Cyran felt content.

“It’s a date, then.” He sighed wistfully, keeping his hand clutched tightly in hers. Sitting at this table, one that had once been purchased by Cyran and refurbished with Del’s hands, surrounded by the children in his employ. By the side of the woman whom he was bound with, first by circumstance and then by choice. How long they sat there, he wasn’t sure. Long enough that the kids got bored of eating and demanded stories and playtime, and it was back to business once more. The afternoon passed in a whirlwind of games to keep the kids entertained, and double checking their defenses. Each time they were in the same room, a stolen moment resting against one another, staring out the window at the bird feeder, or sharing lunch. Little things, though their bodies were beyond exhaustion and fatigue. But it was work Cyran undertook with pride, just happy to have his family together during times like this.

Who knew how long it would last, after all?

The thought bothered Cyran less than he expected it would. No, not all things lasted forever - just like the light of a falling star - but that didn’t mean it wasn’t beautiful while it lasted. And he would preserve that light as long as he could, no matter how dark it stained him in the process. That was his duty, that was his honor. That was his love.

As the day faded into an equally uneventful night, the adrenaline of the incident finally began to wane, leaving him exhausted, and comfortable enough to get some small amount of rest without having to worry about the return of those cultists. He started making his way to his office, where his cot lay, when Del stopped him, and started leading him to her own room, her own bed. This, too, they didn’t need words for. Just a mutual understanding and a desire to make things better for the evening. And in each others arms, they found it.

Peace.