let's move in directions and travel in ways to get to places where we'll stay

"I had an idea for a play last night..."

Haze's ears perked up, and her tiara shone.

"...but I forgot it in my sleep."

Haze slumped again.

In truth, Minoth had had horrible, distracting dreams which forgot themselves in fractals and reiterations, leaving him with nothing but a creeping sense of sleep mouth and dizzy fear.

Hence, the play, out the window of the ground-bound ear. It would have made Haze, the audience, no happier than it would have made Minoth, the orator, to finish it, because the fulfillment of his work was usually what helped him avoid such restless nightmares.

But here they sat, regardless, no ready amusements to soothe their souls.

With cheeks squished in palms, her classic and immediate sign of dejection, Haze glanced across the empty firepit at Minoth. Everyone else was out scouting and foraging; they had been left to guard the camp and supplies.

"You know who I'm curious about?"

Minoth rolled his head to one side, slanted his eyes and brows. "Who?"

"Master Addam's wife - Lady Origo!"

Ah. Of course. It had been Lora's team, mainly, that was shocked to hear her mentioned. Mythra had rolled her eyes. The Ardainians had nodded politely. Minoth had kept himself stiff, in order not to give away the farm.

The meek shall inherit the earth, and they can have it. The bold shall try for polyamory, but they still should be discreet about it.

For his part, Minoth was certainly always secretly pleased to hear anyone wondering about Flora, because it allowed him the opportunity to do the same. Where Addam just stayed cheery, though, Minoth might get morose, in reference to his own personal situation. Flora, the perfect. Flora, the wise. Flora, the unattainable.

So he'd let Haze's mind do the talking. That was simple enough.

"Wouldn't that be Mistress Flora, then?" All things being equal, you know.

"Oh, is that her name?!"

He let himself smirk. Oh, so easy. "That's her, alright."

But instead of what Minoth expected, which was breathless pestering and peppering with questions about when he'd met her, what was she like, did she have any Blades, did she like travelers, did she like traveling... Haze just looked at Minoth, and frowned.

"You miss her, don't you."

Not a question. Hardly even a statement. Just quiet thoughts put into words.

Minoth drew equally quiet breath. Exhaled.

"I suppose you could say that."

And then Haze rushed to his side, steps skirted around the remains of the fire, seating herself on the adjoining log and offering her reassuring hands. Minoth took them (rather, was taken by them, without a word), because he didn't know what else to do. Haze, apparently, could be quite arresting.

"It must be wonderful," she said. She was very grave. Actually, she was more serious than Lora ever was, because this was the hidden capacity of the priestess and her robes: she knew things, sometimes. And then again, sometimes she didn't.

It must be wonderful. "Having two Drivers who care for you so."

"You think-" But she didn't let him finish. "Oh, I know it's true. Jin and I have to share Lady Lora - I don't like to put it that way, but when you think of her time and attention, you know it must be true. She can only fight with one of our weapons at a time. That's the most straightforward way to put it. But you, Master Minoth..."

She smiled at him, almost coy. Minoth wondered if he should be frightened. "You have two weapons. You can share."

"So does Brighid," he pointed out, uselessly, because Brighid didn't share. The concept of "sharing" was surely an alien thing, to Brighid and Aegaeon. They served, rather than were served. And Mythra was an anomaly all her own.

Always this way. Always with the comparisons. Always Haze comparing herself to Jin, too, and Minoth had never thought that she'd approach him with it, dump out all her jealousy on the unsuspecting newcomer.

Unsuspecting. Hah. Like he didn't know the routine. Haze's eyes narrowed in calculation as she observed what it was Minoth thought of the rest of their party and how he fit into it. She felt at his ether, made a minute little stop and start.

She tilted her head to one side, deciding something. Minoth didn't have to wonder; he was frightened, and he was also mysteriously buoyant. How beautifully tranquil to be forcibly understood by someone like this. How violent the storm, when he'd been letting himself alone to simmer.

"You don't think you're good enough," Haze said brightly, with a sinister intent. "You like that you can share."

Meaning, of course (and Minoth knew what she meant because she was right), it was much easier to ingratiate yourself across the combined mass of two people, two hearts, versus one. It was certainly much easier to bear the weight of one third of a trio rather than attempt to make yourself an anchor as one whole half of a pair.

It wasn't only so cynical as that, but Minoth couldn't help his upbringing: he was cynical.

"Beggars can't be choosers," he said, as wryly as he could manage. "If they'll have me...I just try not to rock the boat."

But Haze wasn't half so satisfied with Minoth's logic as he was. She shook her head, tsked and tsked, pulled again at his palms. "But you have to earn your Driver's love."

Minoth shot her an eyebrow. "Is that what they taught you?" Because it was very, very telling, if so.

Oh, drat. She did a double take. "Well, what I mean is that you have to earn their trust. You deserve their respect, and hopefully you already have their love, but their trust...you have to be as good and giving to them as they are to you. You just have to!"

You just have to. And you can't let anyone else love you, or expect them to do so, until you love yourself, because you have to be able to hold your head up and do your end of the working bargain.

A Blade that doesn't strike true, doesn't want to pull the ether, isn't much of a Blade at all. A Driver who can't count on the best efforts of their Blade, can't find a place to channel the ether to, doesn't have much of a choice.

So it was the same in love as it was in war. For Haze, however, love was war. She knew she wasn't good enough to be number one. She never would be. It was categorically impossible.

Thus, she turned her attentions to other opportunities. She rooted for Minoth as she knew no one else would. She had theories that no one else had ever bothered to formulate. She found Minoth absolutely fascinating, and he just sat there and stared.

"Tell me about Mistress Flora," she said. He told her about Flora's cool hands, her warm ways, her careful boosteps, her sharp wit.

These were things that anyone could see at only the slightest glance, to look at Flora from any angle in the manor house or in the market square, on the fields of the moor or in the throes of battle.

Also, Flora could be stubborn. As well, she could be intolerant to the reasons for change.

"Tell me about Master Addam," she said. He told her about Addam's firm grasp, his all-encompassing spirit, his larger-than-life personality, his hair-trigger latch.

These were things that anyone could see at only the slightest glance, to spy upon Addam from any distance whether in the city or in the country, at rest or in toil.

Also, Addam could be oblivious. As well, he could be unintentionally unfeeling.

Then, "Tell me about you," she said.

And Minoth said to Haze, "I don't understand myself. I don't know that I can rely on anything but my aim, and even that finds its time to falter. I don't know if my stories are engaging. I don't know if my penmanship is polished. I don't know if I stand for anything but standing on my own two feet."

Haze nodded, deeply, reverently.

"And what do you think your Drivers see?"

Minoth shrugged, waved it away. "They've got enough to worry about. I'm sure they just see my crooked nose and my messed-up Core. I try to make myself useful, even still."

Instead of delivering some continued conclusion of the life lesson in motion, Haze sat back and shook a knowing finger. "Sounds like somebody is in need of some Driver TLC. I think it could do wonders for you, Master Minoth."

At that, Minoth scowled. "You just want a good story." All the juicy bits about stolen kisses. Tearful reunions, sappy stuff. Maybe some grand confessions, too. Human intrigue, that was her bit.

Whether or not she truly pled guilty, Haze just giggled, scooting closer and using their already-joined hands to hug the Flesh Eater from the side. "Maybe, but can you blame a girl?"