Private Stopping the Landslide

[Isla Reingard]

​

Isla slouched deep into the plush, overstuffed chair as if trying to melt through it, legs folded crisscross and one boot dangling rhythmically in the air like it was bored too. Her holotablet was propped up in her lap, tilted just enough to make it clear she wasn't "engaging" in anything except a meme exchange with Phillip Slate , who quite possibly could be losing his mind over a six-second loop of a gungan slipping on a bantha poodoo.

Important mental health forum, Isla. Good for developing interpersonal grounding, Lorn had said. Right. Lorn had been here once and now apparently that meant she had to bond with strangers about her feelings like this was a group spa for the soul.

She rolled her eyes so hard she briefly saw the astral plane.

The woman across the circle was in the middle of explaining how she had felt "overwhelmed by some sort of loss." and Isla, with all the compassion in the galaxy, still managed to zone out somewhere between the words expectations and safe space. The group nodded sagely. Isla sent Phillip a sticker of a womp rat crying in a hot tub.

She wasn't here to mock. Mostly. It was just... the air in these sessions always felt too soft, like everyone was performing vulnerability at half-volume. It made her jaw itch.

Then, movement.

She glanced up.

Aiden.

Not the beaming Aiden who had made all the padawans ride a ferris wheel. Not the "it's fine, I'm fine." Aiden. This was the hollow-eyed, wrong-poster-boy-for-counseling Aiden. The kind of quiet that wasn't quiet at all, just... scorched.

Isla's fingers froze over her tablet.

She knew.

She had known.

Days ago, her mind had screamed it, his father, went into the Netherworld and never came back out. The Force had shown her every jagged frame, and she'd told Lorn. Had tried to explain. But how do you tell someone that another man's time is about to run out? How do you tell them?

How do you stop a landslide when you're the only one hearing the rocks shift?

She hadn't said anything to Aiden. And now there he was, picking at the hem of his sleeve like it was the only thing left tethering him to the room.

After the session, while the others awkwardly sipped detox teas or tried not to look like they were evaluating their own pain, she crossed the space between them. Quiet steps. Clear eyes. No nonsense.

She stopped in front of him, head slightly tilted.

"Are you okay?"

Simple. Direct. Awful.

But Isla didn't believe in dodging grief with wordplay. The truth didn't need to be wrapped in velvet. Sometimes, it needed to be dropped on the table like a stone.

Like she had just done.

Aiden Porte​

 

[Aiden Porte]

This one, was probably his worst meeting in a long time. For all intents and purposes he was now alone. The last of the Porte's.....

Mother and sister were gone some place he had no idea, and now his father. He remembered how it felt when he got the news, there at the edge of the portal that was closed forever. He fought against them, an unknown strength that flowed through him as he tried to go back through the Portal before it closed. Even with his wounds, three broken ribs, ruptured lung....which he didn't know at the time. The adrenaline racing through him to save his father and he finally succumbed to defeat as he hit the ground, eyes welling with tears. No sobs, just tears going down the side of his face as he laid there looking at the Naboo sky, as medical personnel were rushing by to him and to many others who had wounds to them.

It was a victory, but a great cost. Perhaps not to others, but to him. Because now, he was truly alone. For the briefest of seconds, shameful. He hated his father, why would he leave him like this. There were plenty of others who could make that sacrifice. At the time as he laid there he knew that was a terrible thing he just thought. And then finally, a small sob broke from him.

He didn't know what he was going to do.

He should've still been in the medical bay, but he discharged himself. Despite protest from various others, many. Perhaps he would die from his wounds, so he wouldn't have to do this alone anymore. But more shame crossed his mind and entered his heart. He knew he wasn't alone, there were many that cared about him. Not just his friends that he called family, but those that were here right now, during this meeting. He had been doing this for over four or five months already.

His father did a very great and noble thing, Elias was saved, and so where the children that had belonged to Lossa, and another that belonged to Blaire.

He was trying, but he was failing indeed. Even as he spoke, he felt...….

Anger, frustration...….everything that could be felt

"Thank you guys for coming today." The Padawan took a deep shuddered breath. The pain from the breath was evident, very much so. But he honestly didn't care right now. He did what was necessary, he was there for the people. He gave his own talk of what he was going through. He would tell people things would be okay, to look to others and inside themselves. It would be hard, but they would eventually move on.

They would, but not him.

Not right now....

"We shall meet again in a few days. Thank you." There was a few that remained, to discuss more and several who hadn't already gave their condolences for Kahne's sacrifice. Aiden was hollow, defeated in pain physically and mentally. He didn't know what to do.

"Are you okay?"

Aiden glanced up towards Isla, whom he didn't even know was here. His mind and spirit in some other place, somewhere just awful. He forced as much of a smile as he could, however he knew Isla was a smart girl, she would know it was false.

"Hey kiddo." Aiden whisphered, almost afraid to speak again as if he was about to breakdown. But he didn't.....he wanted to, but he didn't. "I'm.....okay I guess. I mean...." And there it was again, the shield the barrier raising to prove that he was stronger than this. That's when the chuckle came, not out of disrespect, but to mask the pain. "I'm doing okay. Your father finally made you come to one of these things eh?" Aiden started to clean up a bit as he talked to her.

"H-How are you?" His voice began to break for the briefest of seconds, but he regained his composure, taking another breath. There was a few leftover cookies as he reached for one and offered it to her. "Cookie?"

Isla Reingard​

 

[Isla Reingard]

​

Isla blinked once, slowly, the way someone does when a person says "I'm okay" but forgets to iron the lie before wearing it. Her eyes didn't narrow, didn't flare. They just saw. And they didn't look away.

She didn't sit. She didn't bounce on her toes or fidget or try to shrink down to make him feel less cracked open. She just stood there, all straight-backed stillness in her oversized cloak, like some strange little statue of mercy and judgment.

The cookie offer hung in the air between them like a peace treaty written in crumbs.

"No thanks," she said softly, after exactly three seconds of silence.

Her voice, as always, was low and direct, the kind of tone you'd expect from someone giving a weather report about your soul.

She looked at him, really looked. At the folds in his clothing where the fabric didn't sit right, the pale tightness around his mouth, the way his hands trembled just slightly when he didn't think anyone would notice. The cookie stayed pinched between his fingers like it might give him something to hold onto if he squeezed hard enough.

"Lorn said these meetings were helpful," she said. "But he also once told me to trust in the natural order of things. Then proceeded to ruin three of them in one week."

It wasn't exactly a joke, but there was the ghost of a smirk playing at her lips. Almost.

"You're not okay." Isla didn't say it accusingly. She said it like someone pointing out that a storm was coming. Like someone who had seen it on the horizon and knew how fast it would arrive.

Then she lowered herself onto the floor beside him, not the chair, the floor, cross-legged like she'd always meant to sit there, like the plush furniture was too dishonest for what needed to happen now.

"You don't have to lie to me. I already know."

She didn't mean the obvious. She meant everything.

"You fought for him. You wanted to pull him back. I saw it."

Her eyes weren't judgmental. Just old. Too old for her age. Haunted and haunting.

"I think," she said after a beat, "that the Force doesn't care about fairness. It cares about motion. Like the tide. It takes, and takes, and sometimes leaves something behind, but it doesn't ask. And it doesn't wait."

She glanced down at her lap, then back up.

"But I do."

There was no comfort in her tone, but there was weight. Presence. She wasn't here to fix him. That wasn't how this worked.

She was just here.

Aiden Porte​

 

[Aiden Porte]

"No thanks,"

He didn't respond but just looked back and held on to the cookie for a few moments before taking a small bit, and setting it down on the table. Isla spoke of Lorn and the meetings. And for many they were helpful, for some they needed a one on one exchange. He glanced to Isla as she took a seat on the floor and he smiled. "They do help, but sometimes we need more. It's easy when I'm on the other side of the conversation. Now it just seems, fraught with peril. The smallest of ships flying through a deadly storm, searching for that light on the horizon."

Aiden took a deep breath before he turned to her fully, taking a seat next to her, in the almost same manner.

"You're not okay."

"You don't have to lie to me. I already know."

"You fought for him. You wanted to pull him back. I saw it."

"You are wiser than you give yourself credit for Isla. I didn't just fight for him I fought for everyone. And I lost him, yes he chose to stay behind. He didn't tell me perhaps because he knew I would have stayed with him. I can hear what he would say, as to why he didn't tell me. Constantly being reminded of the fact, or the idea......'You have people here who still need you.' " Aiden took a deep breath as he leaned back his hand slightly to his side giving him support to hold himself up.

"Of course I wanted to pull him back, but he was too far in." Aiden said, not intending to sound rude or anything like that. His mind spinning in so many directions right now. Desperately trying to find that narrow path that was invisible to him right now. That path that would lead to safety, perhaps Isla was here to help him find one. But he had his doubts. For over the last two years, he had gone through more than what most Padawan would go through in ten years of time.

He felt it was his test, or perhaps his punishment. For not leaving with Esme when he had the chance, not fading away on Tatooine, so many other things.

Now he was here, alone in an empty house, out in the fields.

"I think,"

"that the Force doesn't care about fairness. It cares about motion. Like the tide. It takes, and takes, and sometimes leaves something behind, but it doesn't ask. And it doesn't wait."

"The force is in constant motion, you feel the flow. You go with it, no matter where you wind up. Perhaps its where you are supposed to be." He let out the smallest of chuckles, as she mentioned it doesn't wait. "Rightfully so, not it doesn't."

"But I do."

He looked over to Isla, as he nodded his head. No smile, just recognition, understanding.

"I know how I should be feeling, but its like I've forgotten everything. I feel like running and never looking back. But I know that is wrong, its the fear, rage, that shadowed path that turns hope into ash."

Aiden closed his eyes for a brief moment, trying to find balance once more, that air of confidence that he had. But it was incredibly difficult and there was a voice telling that there wasn't anything here for him anymore. To leave Naboo, and never look back.

"Have, you ever lost..." He trailed off, as she would know what he was talking about.

Isla Reingard

 

[Isla Reingard]

​

Isla sat still beside him, legs folded, cloak pooled around her like the shadow of something larger, older. She didn't interrupt, didn't fill the air with borrowed wisdom or easy reassurances. Her head tilted slightly as he spoke, as though she were listening not just to his words, but to the echo underneath them.

"You're not wrong," she murmured, when he spoke of fear and the path that turns hope to ash. "You're just in the middle of it. Everything looks like a mistake when you're standing at the center of the fire."

Her voice didn't tremble. It didn't rise. It just existed, low and even and maddeningly certain.

"I've seen people run," she added, her gaze focused somewhere in the distance, into some place she hadn't told anyone about. "They always think they're escaping the pain. But pain moves. Faster than you think. It's already where you're going before you get there."

She reached down and idly plucked a stray thread from the hem of her sleeve, twirling it between two fingers as if it were some fragile tether to the moment.

"I know what you meant to ask," she said after a long beat. Her eyes didn't move to him, not yet. "If I've lost someone."

Another pause. Not hesitation. Just calculation.

"No," she said. "Not really."

Her eyes flicked up to meet his, steady and unwavering.

"I haven't had anyone to lose."

It wasn't said with bitterness. Just fact.

Then she added, as if it were a footnote scribbled in the margin of her heart:
"My mother's still alive. But she's… not the same. The dark got into her. Changed the shape of who she used to be. I guess that's a kind of losing."

She shrugged lightly, like someone talking about the weather. Or the moon.

"But I don't mourn ghosts that chose to be haunted."

And there it was again, that clarity that made people uncomfortable. That strange, quiet honesty that didn't try to be profound, but somehow always was.

She turned to Aiden finally, brown eyes meeting his with an almost unnerving calm.

"You don't have to know the next step. Just don't lie about where you're standing. That's how people get lost."

Aiden Porte​

 

[Aiden Porte]

She spoke with an almost strange and relaxed calm, despite what was going on. Granted, she didn't lose anyone a few days ago. She didn't really know Kahne, from what he thought off the top of his head. Yet all the words she spoke were derived from a sense of straight wisdom, strong advice for him not to play around with, but enough to set him back where he should be.

Why was it so hard?

But it wasn't just one loss that he felt, there were two others. And he couldn't know for sure if they were dead or alive.

He knew what he had to do, he had to have the strength to push through.

"I haven't had anyone to lose."

"I suppose you do now right?" Aiden said with a soft expression as he looked over to her. The comment wasn't meant to sound rude, but it was truth. She did have plenty to lose now, Lorn, Ala and even Phillip.

"I don't mean to pry, I noticed you've been spending a great deal of time with Phillip." Aiden showed a small smile then, while it wasn't something he meant to lecture her about or even dare to speak against it. He wasn't doing that, he was just curious. He cared for Isla, she was essentially a niece to him. "That's good." He said as he looked forward. His hand moved to hers and gave a small squeeze before he let go. "I'm glad you are opening up to people. Letting them in...." Aiden chuckled lightly as he shook his head. "I remember how you were that evening at the carnival. Perhaps that ferris wheel ride did you all some good."

Aiden took a deep breath before looking down at the ground staring at nothing and everything.

Perhaps he needed a Ferris wheel ride as well.

"My mother's still alive. But she's… not the same. The dark got into her. Changed the shape of who she used to be. I guess that's a kind of losing."

"But I don't mourn ghosts that chose to be haunted."

"You don't have to know the next step. Just don't lie about where you're standing. That's how people get lost."

"This isn't my first loss, yet this one has hit more than I could hope to deal with. And I don't know how to let go, how to move on." He looked over to her, as she looked at him.

Isla Reingard​

 

[Isla Reingard]

​

Isla didn't react when Aiden said she had people to lose now. Not visibly, anyway. There was a small hitch in the movement of her thumb over the thread she was twirling, just enough for someone paying attention to notice. She didn't argue. Because it was true. And that truth, somehow, felt heavier than the others.

"I guess I do," she said quietly. "That's the worst part of letting people in. They start to matter. Which means they can be taken."

Her tone didn't waver. But there was something fragile underneath, like glass under ice, hidden, but real enough to cut. She didn't pull her hand away when he squeezed it. She let it happen. Not out of politeness, but permission. A small, human bridge in the dark.

At the mention of Phillip, her expression didn't change much. Not exactly. But something softened around the corners.

"He sends me too many videos," she said, deadpan. "Some of them are funny. Some of them are... dull. But I watch all of them."

She looked forward again, toward the door, the hallway, the world beyond the walls.

"He asks me questions no one else does. Even the stupid ones. Especially the stupid ones."

There was something strangely warm in the way she said it. Almost fond. Almost.

"And the Ferris wheel ride wasn't as awful as I expected," she added. "The ground didn't collapse. No one was betrayed. No sudden acts of war. Just... height. And noise."

Isla was quiet for a moment after Aiden spoke again. About not knowing how to move on. About not knowing how to let go. As if that knowledge was something that was supposed to arrive in the mail, and had simply gotten lost somewhere in the void.

Her head turned to him slightly. And when she spoke, her voice was gentler than before. Still unflinching. But gentler.

"You don't have to let go," she said. "You just have to stop trying to hold on like he's still standing in front of you."

She folded her hands in her lap, fingers laced.

"Talk about him. It might help."

She glanced at Aiden again, this time not with that unnerving stare of hers, but something steadier. Quieter.

"He seemed like a good man. Lorn talks about him like he was."

And that, from Isla Reingard, was as close to an invitation as anyone got.

Aiden Porte​

 

[Aiden Porte]

"That's the worst part of letting people in. They start to matter. Which means they can be taken."

That never phased him...

Not Aiden himself, but his Father. There wasn't tears, mourning for a few a brief moment it would seem like. And there he was, the next day or even a few hours later. Back in the thick of things, fighting, protecting, he was amazed at how he did it. The Padawan always felt he had to live up to him at some point in his life, but that wasn't the case.

His father had told him once he only ever needed to be on thing, and that was his son.

He looked over when she spoke of Phillip. It was a good break from him, the pain seemed to cease for a moment. The physical was still there, perhaps he would need to go back to the medical bay. She spoke of him and he nodded his head.

It wouldn't have mean much to someone who wasn't paying attention. But to someone who was, like Aiden. Phillip was important to her, the comment about watching all the videos that he sends, and the asking of questions.

If she didn't realize it, she would very soon.

"You just have to stop trying to hold on like he's still standing in front of you."

"Yea....." Aiden wasn't really sure what to say. There was so much more depth to his feelings than just Kahne, that was essentially just the tipping point finally. He got the message from his father, sent by his droid Gala and it was meant to instill some confidence and a shred of hope. Perhaps he just needed to grieve.

"He seemed like a good man. Lorn talks about him like he was."

"He was...." Aiden said as he slowly stood up, ignoring the pain from his wounds as he started to clean up a bit. They had always offered to clean afterwards, if there was drink and such around. Aiden always took it upon himself to do it on his own.

"He was a good man, good father, friend and he always gave good advice." He chuckled lightly and shook his head. "He always had a talent of embarrassing me at all sorts situations." Aiden for once actually let out a small laugh, not a chuckle but a laugh. It wasn't something he hated, in fact he rather enjoyed those moments. But he wouldn't ever tell him that. Perhaps that was just father's in general.

"Thanks for hanging back Isla." Aiden spoke not looking back to her, but just letting her know. She would get the message, or so he hoped.

"How is your dad doing?"

Isla Reingard

 

[Isla Reingard]

​

Isla watched Aiden rise, his movements stiff and careful, like his body was made of bruises trying to hold themselves together. She didn't rush to help, he wouldn't want that. She just sat, quiet and still, letting the space breathe around them.

When he laughed, her brows lifted just slightly. It wasn't dramatic, but it was real. It cracked through the heaviness in the room like light sneaking through storm clouds, and for the first time since she sat down, her shoulders loosened.

Not because things were better. But because he had let the grief move without chaining it to silence.

She didn't thank him for it. That wasn't the kind of moment this was.

"You're welcome," she said instead, when he thanked her, her tone as neutral and flat as ever, except the words felt like they came from somewhere warm, buried deep behind the armor of her voice.

When he asked about Lorn, her gaze flicked up toward the ceiling, as if maybe he were up there listening.

"Lorn's fine," she said after a moment. "He keeps to himself mostly. Watches things from a distance. Checks in all the time. Like clockwork. Like I'm going to spontaneously combust if he doesn't ask if I ate."

Her lips curled into a faint smirk, almost involuntarily. But the humor didn't erase the weight underneath it.

"He doesn't know how to be a father yet. You can tell. Every time he says something normal, he acts like he expects a laser blast in return."

She looked over at Aiden now, eyes more open than before. Less guarded.

"But it's fine."

A soft shrug.

"Because I don't really know how I feel about it either."

And that was the truth. Not a dramatic one. Not a broken one. Just the sort that settled between two people who knew how to sit with things that didn't have answers.

Aiden Porte​

 

[Aiden Porte]

While he was going through whatever this was. That wasn't the right way of thinking, he knew what it was. His nature to care for those around him above himself was still there. Maybe that was a way of the universe telling him that he was going to be okay. Even though it seemed, just dark and directionless right now.

He was worried about Lorn, and Isla, both of them. As much as the darkness was telling him that he was alone, he knew deep deep down that wasn't the case. He had a great deal of people that cared about him. He had to push forward, he had to leave this arena of darkness. Not just for himself but for everyone that was in his life. It was going to take time, but hopefully.....

"He keeps to himself mostly. Watches things from a distance. Checks in all the time. Like clockwork. Like I'm going to spontaneously combust if he doesn't ask if I ate."

"He doesn't know how to be a father yet. You can tell. Every time he says something normal, he acts like he expects a laser blast in return."

"Who does?" Aiden smirked as he continued to clean up a bit more, placing the few cookies that were leftover in a container and setting them to the side. He looked back over to her as he sat on the edge of the table. "I know that my father told me a time or two that he didn't have it all figured out. There was still things he hadn't mastered when it came to being a parent. He was a great father though, regardless."

He glanced at Isla a bit before he continued talking.

"He will grow more confident in that aspect, it will take time. Just like what I'm going through, it will take time. It's hard, but you have to be patient with him, and vice versa."

"But it's fine."

"Because I don't really know how I feel about it either."

"Is it though?" Aiden inquired, turning the table on her, as she was giving him advice, he would return the favor. "Don't invalidate your feelings, Isla. They are real, no matter what you think."

It was helping, the talks as he came to realize. He would focus on others, helping them. And perhaps in time his own wounds would heal on their own. Was it the wisest strategy, perhaps not.

But it was a start.

Isla Reingard

 

[Isla Reingard]

​

Isla didn't answer right away.

She watched him, Aiden, now propped on the edge of the table, all fractured wisdom and stubborn kindness, trying to fix her even as his own seams were still showing. It was such a classic move, really. Bleeding out and still offering someone else the bandage.

Her expression didn't change much, but the air around her shifted, an almost imperceptible tilt inward, like something had been nudged loose in her core.

"You sound like him," she said softly. "Lorn."

There was no mockery in it, just an observation, dry and true and almost… reassuring.

"He says things like that. About time. About patience. Like the Force is going to hand us a schedule if we just wait long enough."

She leaned back a little, bracing her arms behind her on the floor, gaze turned up toward the light fixture overhead. It buzzed faintly, an old sound, the kind you only noticed when everything else had gone quiet.

"Maybe you're right. Maybe it's not fine." She said the word like it had teeth. "But it's easier to say than 'unresolved emotional territory I have no map for.'"

Her voice still hadn't risen above its usual murmur, but it had an edge now. Not anger. Not sadness. Just a kind of slow, tired honesty that settled over her like a blanket she hadn't chosen.

"I know my feelings are real. That's the problem. They're too real. They don't fit in neat sentences."

She looked at him again, dark eyes steady, unreadable in the way still water is unreadable, deep and undisturbed, but full of things you'd rather not reach in and touch.

"Sometimes I think I missed the part where you're supposed to get excited about being part of a family."

A pause. A flicker of something.

"But I'm not ungrateful. I know he's trying. That counts."

And then, suddenly, something unexpected, a slight wrinkle at the corner of her mouth. A ghost of amusement.

"I just don't know if I'm supposed to hug him or file a report every time he knocks on my door."

She shrugged again, a little sharper this time. A little more human.

"I'll be patient," she said, quietly. "I can do that."

She tilted her head at him, thoughtful now.

"You should, too."

And with that, she reached forward and took one of the leftover cookies from the container he'd set aside.

A beat passed.

"This one better be good."

Aiden Porte​

 

[Aiden Porte]

"You sound like him,"

"Lorn."

"Well I learned a lot from him, almost as much as my father taught me. He's a good man, perhaps he needed some help at some parts in his tale." Aiden interlocked his hands as he stared down at them for a moment. Lorn Reingard has a strength and will in him that is greater than he knows, Aiden believes it just as he knew his father, Kahne did.

"I know my feelings are real. That's the problem. They're too real. They don't fit in neat sentences."

"Sometimes I think I missed the part where you're supposed to get excited about being part of a family."

"But I'm not ungrateful. I know he's trying. That counts."

"I just don't know if I'm supposed to hug him or file a report every time he knocks on my door.

Aiden raised his hand to his face for a moment as a big smile started to show on his face, he tried to hide it. But towards the end he couldn't help himself and he started laughing. A laugh he hadn't heard in a very long time, months. A true laugh that came from his heart and his soul. Something that was burdened by guilt, darkness, hate.

But something unbound, something that was swimming in hope, light and love. It brought a light to his mind, to his darkened soul. He wasn't repaired, not yet, but it was the start.

She wouldn't ever know, at least not yet what she had done for him today. Just by being here, and...…being.

"It's not what you said, okay maybe it is, but you sound exactly like a teenager does right now." Aiden poured himself some juice that was leftover and did the same for Isla.

"I'd say honestly hug him as often as you can, even if you don't want to. Because a day will come when you don't have that opportunity and you will want it back."

Aiden held his hand to to her, hold his hand out. "I'll make you a deal. You be patient, and I will be patient. If one of us falters, we get to throw a pie in the others face?" The Jedi Padawan smirked as he glanced around, while there wasn't any pie, he would definitely be okay with throwing a cookie at her.

"The cookies are good though, I promise you. I can show you how to make them, if you'd like. Maybe invite Philip along....eh?" Aiden said in a teasing manner but he he meant in all seriousness. If she wanted him around, then he should be around.

Isla Reingard

 

[Isla Reingard]

​

Isla blinked slowly as Aiden laughed and for a long, bewildered second, she just stared at him like he'd spontaneously started levitating. Her head tilted slightly, owl-like. People didn't usually laugh like that around her. Not because she was cruel or cold, but because she tended to ruin the mood with the whole truth-is-a-scalpel vibe.

She didn't smile but something passed through her expression. A flicker. Like maybe she'd just seen a flower bloom through stone and wasn't sure how to react.

"You're laughing," she said flatly, like she needed to confirm it. "Voluntarily."

She accepted the juice he poured her without comment, but sipped it like she was testing it for poison. That, or she just didn't like surprises. Hard to say. Isla listened to his advice about hugging Lorn, the part about days running out and wanting them back. Her eyes dropped slightly to the drink in her hands.

"I'm not good at those kinds of things," she said quietly. "Hugs. Saying things. It's like… touching a mirror. You always end up seeing something you weren't ready for."

But she didn't argue. Not this time.

When he held his hand out to her and proposed a deal, her eyes narrowed just slightly. Her instinct was to question every part of it, the logic, the consequences, the odds of him actually throwing a pie. But something about the way he said it… light but sincere, cracked open but not crumbling... made her pause.

She reached forward, very deliberately, and shook his hand.

"Fine," she said. "But if I throw pie at you, I'm making it lemon. Just to be extra."

Then, without even blinking, she added, "And if you break the deal, I won't use pie. I'll use one of Lorn's nutrient bars. The kind that taste like dirt and guilt."

As for the cookies...

She took another bite, slowly, considering.

"They're acceptable," she said, in a tone that sounded like it should be delivered from a judge's bench.

The invitation to let Phillip join them? That gave her pause. Her jaw shifted slightly, like she wasn't sure if she should make a joke or deflect or just run into the swamp and vanish. Instead, she just said, "Yeah. Okay. Maybe."

Which, for Isla Reingard, was basically a neon YES in bold letters.

She looked back at Aiden. Her gaze, this time, was softer than usual. Not pitying. Just... human.

"You're not fixed," she said, because of course she did. "But you're still here. That's enough."

Then she picked up a second cookie and took a bite like it was part of some ancient Jedi ritual.

Aiden Porte​