--Making their way a little adjacent to the initial scene, Del squeezes Cyran's hand, staying close to him beneath the parasol as it shades them during their walk. It was early in the day, but already the heat was starting to rise; being normally quite warm herself, Del stuck close to her pleasantly cool Fiance, leaning on his perpetual chilly touch to keep the heat at bay.

"Where would you like to sit down, my Rogue?" she looks around them; most of the trees and brush had been cleared in the area to make way for the party-goers, but there were some secluded spots that appeared to have broad canopies of palm leaves still along the sections of grass that were away from the beach itself. Having gotten a head start, they would have an easy time finding a likely spot, away from the prattle of nobles, but still easy enough for Andromeda and Oriole to find them if they needed to. High society parties like this were always full of the worst sort of people-- worse than the criminal element of Darkveil by a long-shot, at least in Del's eyes. It was never a bad idea to keep one ear to the ground, to see what sort of things these noble types got up to in secret.

Or, she and Cyran could... simply enjoy themselves. What a concept.

She turns to speak, but finds herself staring at him instead, entranced by the ethereal nature of his garments and how otherworldly he seemed. Smiling, she reaches up to tuck a few strands of hair behind his ear.

There were certain times where running perpetually cold was not a blessing - their most recent trip to Frostgale doing work for the Winged Expeditionary Force taught Cyran that. The frigid chill to someone without much internal regulation was almost a death sentence, one he’d avoided the penalty of thanks to the woman standing next to him, a plethora of layers, and plenty of… activity. Right now, though, being cold came as a blessing in contrast to the summer heat that was just this side of blistering. And right now, probably the main reason that Del was leaning against him. Cyran reached out a hand to the nape of Del’s neck, a brief touch to stave away the heat, as if he could shoo off the sun’s rays.

He was so stunned by her easygoing expression - relaxed, for once - that he almost missed that she was speaking to him. He blinked.

“Where to sit?” There were more than a few empty places set up along the sand for them to choose from, with comfortable chairs and plush pillows embroidered with gold, no doubt courtesy of their hostess. And then there were the small boats and makeshift rafts enchanted to look like exotic fuchsia birds that bobbed along the water carrying occupants that lazily drifted through the waves. The ocean, as he’d stated before, was most definitely out of the question, but there were a few spots away from the crowd that they could stake their claim at -

Oh, that was perfect.

Cyran nudged Del, gesturing towards a small outcropping of rocks amongst the sand a little ways away, partially covered by sloping trees and slanting stalks of bamboo. There was still plenty of room for them to lay out their umbrella and towels and stretch out, but with enough nearby water and wildlife to keep them cool. A clustering of tide pools.

“What’s, um, over there?” Cyran asked, an attempt at being playful much in the way Del had pulled his attention towards the spire and their climbing competition on their first Hearth’s Day date. He turned back to her, a smile on his face, only to pause when he noticed Del was staring at him with an expression on her face that he could only describe as transfixed. By him? Cyran huffed, a small laugh, unused to this kind of attention. The way she was gazing at him, one might think he was as priceless as something in a museum.

He shifted his stance from foot to foot, unsure what to say.

”Do I have something on my face?”

He barely got the question out before Del moved to tuck his hair behind his ear and out of his face. He cleared his throat, face pink in a way that definitely wasn’t from the heat. “Oh, yes, splendid.”

Splendid? Could he be any less smooth? Suppressing the wish for the sand to reach up and swallow him whole, he settled for preventing himself from saying anything else that would make her regret her decision to say yes to him by pressing a small kiss to the corner of her mouth. When he pulled back, he could only hope she’d forgotten his horrible, awful, blunder as he gestured towards the tide pools once more.

”Um, set up? Would you like to? I’ve got a bottle of wine that’s just waiting to be opened.”

Lids fluttering at the sensation of his cool hand on the back of her neck, Del follows Cyran's gaze, enticed by the rocky formations nearby along the shore. They looked tall enough to be out of the way of the water-- were those tide pools? But she was, of course, a little too preoccupied with the stunning man at her side, his fingers delicately playing on the back of her neck. Though, he seemed a little nervous by the intensity of her gaze. She just... couldn't help herself. No longer did she have to sneak yearning glances his way, admiring him from a relative distance. Now she stood next to him, and he was, by far, the best view Charon had to offer.

Splendid. Delighted by the word choice, Del giggles softly. "You certainly are, my heart." She replies, surprising herself again with the coquettish tone in her voice. While Del found Cyran's verbal expressions incredibly charming, a light kiss to the corner of her mouth is all it takes for her to promptly forget about everything for a solid ten seconds, her mind wiped pleasantly blank with affection. It takes a few moments for her brain to restart its thinking functions as little gold flowers bloom in her hair and a blush brings a mahogany hue to her skin. Realizing he is speaking to her, Del blinks, jolted back into thinking and out of looking at him with hopeless fondness in the midst of her stupor.

"Mm? Oh!" she unshoulders the bag from her back as she turns towards the tide pools he had indicated, her eyes alight with interest. "Tide pools! Yes, lets." She followed next to Cyran, excitement dancing in her eyes. "Depending on how deep they are, they usually have a tonne of sea life in them. Master Maruyama and I would forage whenever we were on the beach at low-tide." She grins up at him as they walk side by side towards the little pools. "Have you ever investigated one before?" She thought a precocious, ever curious young Marlow would very much enjoy them.

"Only mind your step, my Moonlight," Del nods to the rocks as they walk near to their spot. "Most of these rocks look quite dry, but some will have sea-grass or ocean moss growing on them, and the get very slippery. Right here?" she looks around, a wider smile coming to her face as she looks at the beautiful scenery. With the bamboo and bent trees, the sand under their feet, and the tide pools right there, it was perfect. As she turns to her fiance, looking upon him again, it becomes paradise.

Del shakes her head again and starts digging through the bag to unload their towels and start setting up, excited. "This is a perfect spot. And a very fine distraction, if I didn't know better." she adds, teasing him fondly. She remembered the distractions, the excuses to stay out longer and get to know one another on that cool Heart's Day outing. Now, there were no excuses; only affectionate teasing, something Del found that she very much enjoyed. It was heartening to see Cyran letting loose, even if just a little.

At the very least Del found some manner of amusement in Cyran’s utter lack of tact or charisma. And then, to his mortification, agreed with him - perhaps even turning his words back in his direction. This woman. She was going to be the death of him.

There were worse ways to go, he was sure.

Cyran often found himself surprised at how little Del seemed to care for the awkward, almost distant parts of him that had never quite learned how to express himself properly. He’d not been raised in an environment that fostered expressing one’s self. Weakness was swiftly dealt with behind closed doors, imperfections trained out of him with vigorous lessons that never seemed to quite stick. Be silent, but observant. Your feelings are irrelevant to the task at hand. Love is a fiction created to give commoners a sense of false hope. And marriage for the sake of anything besides money and political power? A joke. Cyran knew from a young age, since his betrothal to the youngest child of the Pavyre family had been announced, that he was meant to be a vessel for another progeny, and nothing more.

And he’d been content with that. Much easier to allow one’s self to go with what was expected of him rather than hope for anything better. Expression of his own wants and emotions was superfluous when there was no one to care about them. No hope that things could be better.

Yet, here Cyran was. Centuries later, a widower to a woman who was virtually a stranger, and betrothed to the one that meant everything to him. How did one learn to unwind decades upon decades of training and control and self-imposed chastity and isolation? Apparently, it was through tongue-tied, stilted words and methods of silent affection, like an adolescent giving flowers to his first love. In many ways, this was. As he kissed her, Cyran resisted every instinct to cover his face in his hands - and he was grateful he did, otherwise he would’ve missed the pleasant showering of gold petals that he so adored whenever she was flustered.

Love and intimacy was a learning curve for the both of them, he supposed.

It was difficult for the woman who’d been forcibly made into a weapon and the man who’d forged himself into one to disarm themselves.

Cyran listened with rapt attention while Del spoke of her time with her master. He could imagine her and Maruyama making their way around twisted rock formations, perhaps as part of some sort of exercise to help Del get more accustomed to bodies of water after her fall, the both of them wondrously examining the life teeming under the surface of the still water. Cyran only had a vague impression of Maruyama, cobbled together from stories and a distant meeting in a dream, but every time Del spoke so fondly of him, Cyran was regretful that he could not meet the man himself. Whenever Del shared memories of him, it was so easy to imagine he was almost here…

He blinked, pulling himself back to the present with a thoughtful hum. “A little bit. Marlow loved them when she was younger, but she was not allowed to get herself dirty. My mother considered it… unbecoming of our name.” Cyran’s lips contorted into a frown before his expression lightened and he turned back to Del. “But I did not learn my stealth after I left home. One time, at one of these very functions, I managed to sneak her away from the festivities and brought her to the pools to play. It was the happiest I’d seen her in a long time… I received quite the tongue-lashing for it, but I didn’t care. None of that mattered if it meant making her happy.”

He laughed, a soft look overtaking his features at the thought of his daughter. He missed her. Cyran had seen her, briefly, a few months back, when he and Cirice made an impromptu visit to his mansion. Though he’d had to depart from her, it left Cyran with rather dangerous thoughts and wishes. Of Marlow coming to live with them, getting to know Del and her siblings. He’d repurpose a room in the orphanage for her as a laboratory, and maybe one day the two of them could bring her to tide pools just like this.

He tiptoed around the slippery spots as Del pointed them out, slipping out of his sandals so he had better maneuverability. Cyran turned to her, grabbing her hand to help her navigate as well. “Quite dangerous for the untrained eye, indeed. I suppose I’ll just have to hold onto you, lest I slip.” He said with a wink. In all actuality, Cyran would likely have been able to catch himself if he fell stray of one of the invisible dangers, but it almost felt… fun to play at being a damsel in distress. And he certainly would never say no to allowing Del to catch him.

Eventually, they made it to a point with plenty of sand to sit in, and a good view of the festival activities in the distance. Cyran nodded at her, cheeks pink at the almost teasing mention of distractions. He went about throwing out blankets and towels for them to sit under, sticking his parisol in the sand to catch some shade.

When he finished, Cyran held his hands out, shadow coalescing in his open palms as he summoned two wine glasses for the both of them.^[1] “Here.” He held one out to her, freeing up his hand to grab the bottle from his bag, a 15230 original from a Mount Drakolt Vinyard. Poured some for himself, and if Del allowed him, some for her.

“I know this outing might not have been either of our first choices for a vacation, but.. I hope this makes up for it?” He asked hopefully, eyes flicking over to the members of the crown and nobility enjoying the festivities. Neither of them had to enjoy being so close to the royal family, but Cyran hoped, at the very least, Del might find a modicum of relaxation here.

---

1. Summon: Possession

Hearing Cyran talk about Marlow and bringing her to the tide pools brings a warmth to her eyes, watching the softness play across his face as these precious memories drift across his mind's eye, marred only by the small creases in his brow of the pain that went alongside these thoughts. There is nothing she would rather do but listen patiently to this story of his life from before he became the Specter, watching these memories move across his features as she had so many months ago at the top of the spire in Darkveil as he showed her his precious stars. The Cyran she knew now existed then, too, sweet and doting and a wonderful father, even in the face of criticism. He was a better man than he gave himself credit for.

More than that, she can feel through their bond the ache of missing that little piece of his heart, his darling child that he had been forced to leave. Del felt it, too-- though she had never met Marlow, she was part of his life, and more than anything, she wanted to see the both of them happy. Knowing these memories were bittersweet (but oh, so precious), Del tilts her head to touch her forehead gently against his temple, slipping beneath the brim of his hat to do so.

"You're a wonderful father, you know." Del murmurs softly, before they start picking their way across the rocks of the tide pool, giggling at their careful little steps they need to take, glancing up at him as he takes her hand. And-- oh. Del wheezes softly, feeling a rapid rush of heat to the very tips of her ears as he tips her a flirtatious wink that makes her feel like she could float straight up into the sky right then if he wasn't presently holding her down. The very idea of holding on to her, letting her protect and guide him, even in such teasing tones, is enough to make her heart race. "I-- I ah, you can hold as tight as you like," Del stumbles gracelessly through the words, trying to return the cute little flirt even though she was pretty sure she was about to combust. "I';ll keep you safe, my dearest."

Once they arrive at the perfect spot, Del helps in the setting up, tweaking the blankets just so, smoothing everything out-- but as Cyran seems to have most of the matter under control, the second his back is turned from her, Del quickly slides towards the treeline, plucking something from a bush and slipping back towards their quaint little camp, just as Cyran turns to her with a glass for wine. Her eyes widen, delighted. "For me? Your thoughtfulness knows no bounds, Cyran." Del takes a seat on the blanket beneath the parasol, her hand with her prize tucked behind her back conspicuously. With her free hand, she takes the empty glass and curls her legs under her, sitting close to Cyran's side. At his gentle, unspoken question, she holds out her glass for him to fill, so they could enjoy the wine together. "Thank you-- ooh, this smells lovely. Where did you get a vintage like this?" she asks, smiling widely as she looks over the label of the bottle.

At Cyran's question, Del follows his gaze to the Crowd beyond, feeling a small prickle of anxiety. There was much that was troubling about this entire situation that they could attend to, if they were so inclined. The thought hardly crosses Del's mind before banishing it. Her eyes shift back to Cyran and she gives him a serene smile, leaning one head on her shoulder as she simply looks at him with hopeless fondness again. Tension unwinds from her expression and her shoulders. This, now. This she could do forever.

"As long as I am with you, no matter where we find ourselves-- that is always my first choice." she assures him, raising her glass to him in toast. "I haven't been to a beach in a very long time, and never to simply exist or relax. Much less with someone I am irrevocably enamoured of." she adds, her smile a little more shy as she looks up at him through her lashes. "You're my first choice, my Cyran. All those..." she lowers her voice a little conspiratorially, smiling mischeviously. "--Stuffy, pompous rich fools over there can be as annoying and snide as they want. I care about you and spending this time with you. To make our own precious memories. They can choke for all I care."

You’re a wonderful father, you know.

Cyran’s entire body locked up, unable to move where Del had moved to press her forehead to the side of his own. It was a familiar touch, a habitual comfort at this point; the kind of gesture meant to remind that their minds and hearts were one in that moment. Such an intimate connection, he thought. The vulnerability of being able to surrender one’s self, to bow your head against another and know with every fiber of your being that you had just returned somewhere sacred. You could trust that hands would not be wrapped around your throat, surrender yourself entirely to that feeling. He let out a wistful sigh, shoulders slumping as he surrendered his own weight to her, only for a moment.

“I did my best.” He murmured after a beat of silence. “I do not always think my best was enough.”

Yes, he’d done his best, but how could that matter when he hadn’t been there for her when it counted? Cyran closed his eyes, letting out a small breath For the briefest moment, so achingly brief, he felt the back of his eyes sting, remembering the glimpse he’d caught of her back in the mansion with Cirice - having the chance to hold her in his arms, seeing the beautiful young woman she’d grown up to be. And having to let her go. Knowing that he wasn’t what was best for her. He’d known that deep down ever since he wasn’t strong enough to fight for her all those years ago.

Perhaps he’d always known.

“-Though I am glad to hear you think so.” He added after a moment’s thought. This was not supposed to be a miserable occasion. Summer, though not his favorite season, was meant to be one celebrating life and love. He didn’t want to mope, today of all days. “You would like her, I think. She was curious, and oh-so-infinitely stubborn. Once she’d set her mind on something, there was no dissuading her from it. Just like a certain someone I know.”

His lips twisted into a wry smile, though the mushy softness in his heart betrayed any semblance of teasing for the declaration of love that it was. That Marlow and Del, though never having met one another, shared similar traits just made him all the happier for it. Even as he huffed out a laugh at Del’s coy reply, uttered with a smile and an adoring look framed by long, elegant lashes and dimples, Cyran felt like his heart was about to burst.

“My fighter. Rescuing me from cultists and vicious hermit crabs alike.”

Setting up their blankets and getting out the wine was quick work; quick enough that Cyran and Del were able to settle down in no time, both eager to relax and unwind. Cyran rolled his shoulders back, forcing tense muscles to uncoil. Even under the parasol, he could feel the warmth of the sun beating down on the golden sands around them, juxtaposed by the chill of the glass in his hands. Cyran shrugged in response to the question about where he’d procured such a bottle, a piece of finery that was far outside of his own price range.

“I may or may not have paid an under-the-table visit to one of the Rookery’s suppliers.” Cyran said, a half-admission. “We needed a hospitality gift for Lady Ahora, and I would have been remiss if I didn’t procure something for us to enjoy, as well.” It felt a little too gauche and far too risky to outright admit that he’d stolen it in the dead of night. Cyran did not generally have sticky fingers but he was no stranger to thievery when the situation necessitated it. And… he did not exactly have the funds to give his fiancée all the things she deserved, so perhaps there was a small part of him that wanted to pamper her the only way he knew how.

Their glasses clinked together with a soft chime as Cyran tapped his to hers in response.

It was difficult not to burst into flames when Del spoke, utterly sincere - even going so far as to say she was enamored with him. Even though they were engaged, for gods’ sakes, it still made him feel weirdly giddy. Cyran leaned over, putting a hand on her cheek, risking one more stolen kiss. It made him feel drunk, and not because of the taste of wine on her lips.

A small, chaste movement.

It meant everything.

“Lunala, I love you.” He breathed. “I don’t know if I say it enough-“ He did, every evening and every morning and would say it until his throat was hoarse if given the opportunity- “But I do. And I’m beyond lucky to have you in my life. Thank you for creating memories with me that are worth cherishing.”

"I know so," she says firmly, nodding as if to further confirm her certainty. He was a wonderful father. He parented so many children over the years, cared for them, upheld their safety as a pinnacle above all else. She could see how much he loved and missed his daughter, his sweet Marlow. Del coul only hope that one day, she had the honour of meeting her, and telling her how loved she was by the father she was ripped from, so many years ago.

Del blinks at the mention of stubbornness, and laughs-- she was just being stubborn, wasn't she? Having the good grace to blush, Del gives Cyran a sheepish look; it was no small thing to be compared to the most important person in his life. It was an incredible compliment. It was also good to hear; if Marlow was such a headstrong girl, then Del was certain she would be capable of making up her own mind. One day, perhaps. One day.

"The hermit crabs are the most vicious," Del assures, giggling along with his jokes as they went about setting up their blanket, the parasol, the wine. She looks at the bottle with a surprised lift of her brow, before breaking into a light laugh, catching his meaning... touched that he went to such lengths for a little picnic between the two of them. Here they were, a couple of criminals drinking stolen wine at the party of the Queen Consort of Charon herself. Her Eminence and her stuffy guests would never be any the wiser. "That was terribly thoughtful of you. She did seem quite happy with the wine. As am I." she giggled, taking another sip.

Oh, but then he was kissing her, drawing her towards him with sincere ardour in his eyes as her words washed over him. His touch, the brush of his lips on hers, never failed to leave her burning. Gods, but if she had known how sweet his kiss was months ago, she would not have been able to resist asking him sooner for permission.

She sits there for a moment, all but paralyzed, the breath stolen from her lungs. He did say it, every morning and every evening and every chance he got, and she would never, ever, get tired of hearing it.

Somehow, though, his words are even sweeter. Tears touch the corners of her eyes as the earnestness of his words ring straight through to her heart. This... was what it was to be loved and love in turn. She was not used to it, even now, but oh, how she loved to learn by his side.

Del leans back in, chasing after his sweet words with kisses of her own, each light and lingering, not straying far from his lips until her head is spinning. Reluctantly pulling back, she rolls her lower lip through her teeth, opening her eyes to gaze at him. Lifting her hand to run lightly across his jaw, her smile is one of serenity; these moments were so precious, able to act on that which they had been denying themselves for months. "You are enough, heart of my heart. You are more than I could have hoped, and each day with you shows me new colours I would never have seen before without you. I love you, more than I have words for. More than there are stars in the sky, or raindrops in the ocean." Unable to help herself, Del steals one more kiss, long and sweet. Truly, she never could get enough of him, of this expression of her adoration and reverence for the wonderful man she loved.

When her lips break from his, Del nuzzles her nose affectionately against his, smiling shyly. "And what did you bring for us to eat together, my Rogue, or shall I be subsisting myself on your kisses today? I would not complain if so."

“It is rather good wine.” He agreed. Cyran was not as much a drinker of artisan wines after his exile; not that he particularly cared about quality. Cyran was familiar with fine things, though they were often a discomfort rather than something he looked for. Wine, though, was always something he’d had a fondness for. Not a necessity, but something nice. Since his exile he’d been content with cheap drinks, not particularly caring whether it was quality or not. But it was still… nice, to have a fine drink in his hands and a fine woman by his side.

Perhaps the experience, in part, was due to the fact that he was seated next to a wonderful woman who made his heart soar.

If he were being honest the company would many any experience feel like the most divine, because it was spend with loved ones. That was what Cyran had always valued above all else, though he’d never been able to admit it aloud. No matter what circumstances, no matter where, he was happy so long as he was spending it with family. Del was right - at present, there was nowhere else he’d rather be. The warmth of the sun’s rays beating down on him, tangible even through the parasol, his students playing volleyball in the distance (oh, that hit to the face Andromeda took looked like it stung), and his finance pressing her hand to his face, responding to his affection with a few chaste, sweet kisses of her own.

Oh, and it was taking all his willpower not to melt into the sand right now.

Cyran hummed, too breathless to manage much more in the face of such affections. Gentle and unyielding. Firm and soft. So powerful, an so human. And every single word, the truth, and all for him.

“Mm. There are a lot of raindrops in the ocean…” He murmured, a hint of playfulness in his voice, hiding just a hint of doubt that her hyperbole was all true. Nevertheless, he would accept them as they were. He wouldn’t do her the injustice of his self-doubt, not when she was so utterly kind and good to him. So he trailed off, returning her Frostgale kisses with a small laugh.

The question of food made him perk up. Cyran drew away, with no small amount of reluctance - mostly driven by the desire to help Del - running his fingers through his hair before reaching for his basket. Food. He could manage that. “They usually have food at these events,” He gestured towards the tables, which were full of grandiose displays of food, though not anything Del would be especially interested in if he had to hazard a guess. In the spirit of cultural exchange, these beach parties made an attempt to hold native Crescent Islander food, though it was highly bastardized and removed from the culture entirely. A fanciful attempt at cultural sensitivity wrapped in seaweed. “… But I brought some snacks for the both of us. Nothing particularly fancy.”

He moved to pull out a few bundles of cloth, unwrapping them in front of the both of them so Del could see what he had with him. Honey-drizzled pastries, sweet potato muffins, bruschetta and toast, crackers with salmon and cream cheese, roasted pineapple… a myriad of finger foods for the two of them to enjoy. Cyran had meant it when he said he was determined to relax this evening. Even more so, he was determined to make sure that Del relaxed, too.

Cyran leaned over, plucking one of the pieces of pineapple and popped it in his mouth before sipping at his wine. How long had it been since he’d had a proper vacation, anyways? There was the trip to Frostgale, but that was more of a work trip than a proper break, as wonderful as it had been. It was strange to just… unwind. But not unwelcome.

He looked over at Del, gesturing for her to take what caught her fancy.

Definitely not unwelcome.

"There certainly are," she simpers in reply, reveling in this saccharine sweetness that seemed to permate the air in her lungs, filling her words with sugar and her heart with syrup. She could feel his belief, at least, in that she believed her words. For Del, that Cyran felt the love that she had for him that seemed to want to burst from her at any given opportunity, that was more than enough.

As they part and he reaches for the basket, she chuckles softly, tucking her own strands of hair behind her ears. Her gaze follows his towards the tables of rich and plentiful food stacked yonder, and she pulls a face, shaking her head. "The rich and powerful can have their feast. I would rather eat free from the ocean, if we could. Ohh... and much better choices by far." Del's smile widens as she looks over the little, special feast for just the two of them-- an array of appetizers that were fresh and good and made with love. And that, perhaps, was the main difference; the Queen's feast was an incredible spread of rare delicacies and expensive deconstructions on classic dishes. Had she the choice, she would have traded every morsel of that meal for one little bite of what Cyran had brought for the both of them to enjoy. Food from the heart.

As he gestures for her to take what caught her eye, she gives Cyran a lingering look through her lashes, her expression sly and playful. Then, she reaches for a piece of bruschetta, bringing it to her lips with a light crunch. She sits back, finishing her bite and washing it down with a sip of wine, sighing with contentment as she tilts her head to rest on his shoulder. What more could she want?

"It's perfect."

As they indulge in their meal, Del's gaze feels drawn again to the tide pools, an idea working through her mind. Shifting, she tips her head back to gaze up at Cyran with a shy smile. "Do you think we could find anything in there the kids might like? Fish, Iryla, Marlow...?"

“Oh! I’m glad you like it.” Cyran rubbed at the back of his neck as Del expressed her enjoyment at the food he’d brought. It hardly felt a grand meal, and yet, seeing her excitement over homemade food - though he could not claim to be the best chef in the world, certainly made it feel all the richer than the queen’s bounty, he was inclined to agree. It was just right. The right meal to accompany the perfect afternoon with a lovely woman, all other company be damned. Just the two, rogues stealing such a quiet moment from the hands of the crown that sought to keep it from them. There was nothing better then that.

He relaxed, grabbing another piece of pineapple and savoring the sweetness and the char from the grill. In the distance he could see Oriole and Andromeda playing in the sand with a colorful man. It certainly looked like they were having fun… a successful venture on all ends, he surmised. It would not hurt to allow himself this one second to uncoil and allow his thoughts to wander, drifting away with the waves…

Del’s query brought him back to the present.

“Oh?” He tilted his head in the direction of the tide pools, still waters with a host of unseen wonders hidden inside. He hardly claimed to know much about what lay inside - such study had been Marlow’s interest - but he was certain if they put their minds to it, they could wade through the waters and find shells to collect for everyone. Pretty little things to remember this trip by.

“I’m sure there’s plenty in there for… for them.” He swallowed at the mention of Marlow’s name and the casual insinuation they would be discovering something for her here, too. Gods, he did not need to grow teary again, not on such a lovely occasion. “And something shiny to catch Fish’s interest, for certain. With a little bit of cord we might even be able to make them all homemade necklaces…”

He tapped at his chin in thought before pulling himself wearily into a standing position, back and knees popping momentarily as he did. Cyran stopped, held his hands out to Del to help her up.

“Well, there’s only one way to find out what unknown treasures they might hold, isn’t there?”

"I love it, my dear," Del smiles at him fondly, taking a piece of grilled pineapple to enjoy for herself as well while they sit and enjoy the waves. It was so strange to be back on these beaches-- Del doubted she had ever stood on this particular shore of the Crescent Isles before, but it was an odd homecoming. Decades ago, she had left the Crescent Isles to avoid the strange people that pursued her, resigning herself to a weary life on the road, constantly on the move and trying to survive. Now, she had returned, now having a home both in Darkveil and in Cyran, enjoying a beach and relaxing right under the nose of the very Crown that had been seeking her for so long. All that change, in less than a year, all told. If anyone had told her that her life could be this, she would never have believed them for even a moment. It was almost poetic, how much better her life had become since that fateful day in the shadows of Darkveil.

In that same vein, Del felt that it was important to remember these things. Remember the people who couldn't be here to enjoy it with them, for one reason or another. Give them mementos so those people knew that they were remembered, always.

Another soft smile touches her face as Cyran agrees to help her find some souvineers among the tide pool, noticing the catch in his throat. Her hand squeezes his gently. "That's a wonderful idea. We can use some tree-bark fiber to make a chord. I can show you how to do it, it's surprisingly easy," she says eagerly, taking his offered hand to help her up. She grunts with the effort, having been fully reclined when they were prone, and twirls her fingers to cover them loosely in shadow so they could avoid the worst of the sun while they investigated the pools.

She kneels down on the shale stone of the clear water, holding herself steady as they peer in to the little aquatic world. For a few moments, it was painfully still, but as the vibrations of the two indivuduals began to settle, signs of movement began to be apparent. A group of anemone slowly unfurl, blooming back open to try and filter feed whatever little goodies were floating in the water. A bright orange starfish lingered among the rocks, stubbornly stuck to the wall to wait until the tide came back in. Thick eel and sea grass sways gently in the water, pushed by the breeze along the surface of the water and moved slightly to one side by an octopus that shifts along the far lip of the rock pool, looking for an exit so it can get to a deeper rock, or back out to the sea.

"Ooh, it looks like there's a lot here," she notes with a grin, as she watches the little microcosm of the ocean below. Her eyes spy a large, loose rock, and she reaches over to tip it back, revealing a smattering of dead sanddollars, empty seashells, a dead brittle-star, and a very much alive crab, waving its claws in defiance as their hiding place was discovered. Del giggles, watching it as she reaches in to pull up one of the sand dollars. "This spot has a fiesty guardian, it seems."

Cyran brightened at Del’s suggestion to homemake necklace cords. Her earliest memories transpired on these islands, recovering from the incident that had robbed her of her memories, and learning all there was under the watchful eye of her teacher. Cyran wondered if she and her master had ever spent time doing inane things like this. She was a survivalist, through and through - with an innate understanding of how to make use of her surroundings that Cyran would never be able to achieve. And her handiness was always so lovely. Sometimes he wondered how much of it came from her before, and how much she’d accumulated in the half century since then.

He supposed it did not matter either way. There was nothing Cyran could learn about her that could make him love her any less… such a thing would do nothing more than quell his curiosity to know her as she was, all of her.

“That’s a good idea.” He marveled. “Please, you’ll have to show me. I think that receiving thoughtful, homemade gifts would be a nice treat for the kids that didn’t get to come.” Cyran hummed thoughtfully to himself as Del pulled herself to her feet with the help of his hand, pulling on the shadows cast by his parasol and the surrounding clouds to coat them in a cool dark and prevent sunburn while they moved. The assassin tugged at the brim of his sunhat, their interlocked fingers delicately swinging between them while they made their way to the small cluster of water brimming with sealife.

From a distance they looked quite dead; just algae-covered rocks nursing still, old water that had not been touched in gods knew how long. But that was, in Cyran’s opinion, the most fascinating thing about them. The longer you spent investigating the surface, the more time you took to really look at what what most took for granted, the more miracles you could start to find under the surface. Cyran sat himself down next to Del, staring at the water’s reflection and remembering a time where Marlow danced along the edges and scooped up shiny pebbles along the surface, babbling off the names of all the life she could find.

He blinked, refocusing himself while Del pulled loose a chunk of rock, unveiling a treasure trove of shells and rocks, protected by a scuttling little crustacean who looked quite put out that they had disturbed his rest. Cyran chuckled, holding his finger just above the creature’s claws when something caught his eye - a flash of sunlight catching the light of something reflective in the water. He dipped his hand in, leaving cool ripples where he’d broken the surface, pulling out a small piece of shimmering seaglass. Weathered by years in the water, but quite beautiful in the way it caught in the light.

“Oh; I think Fish would quite like this one.”

The two set out collecting little pieces where they could find them, creating a small pile of trinkets. Such small wonders they were, found in this tiny corner secluded from the rest of the party. He was hardly a religious man, but it was hard not to think there was something heavenly about this moment. Spent shoulder to shoulder, perusing the waters, finding love stolen amidst a summer of turmoil and chaos. Clouds drifting overhead, the gentle heat beating down upon their backs. All good things must come to an end, he knew - and that it was foolish to wish for anything to last for an eternity. But oh, sitting there, he took great care to etch every piece of this moment to memory, imprinting it so he would not forget the sensation of such simple unconditional love, and what it meant to find joy.