She could hear the noise of someone shuffling; it took a second for her to register who it was. Someone heavier, taller. It had to be Blade. She opens her mouth, debating if she should actually speak. A selfish request hangs on her tongue. Isn't this asking too much? She should have done it herself sooner.
"Bl...Blade?" Whispering softly, Firefly swallows. "You're going to Planarcadia soon, right?" She has to pause, let her heart settle before continuing on. "If I may...Ask one simple request of you before I fall asleep again, or fade. There is a gift. If it doesn't conflict with The Script, could you give it to Caelus for me? Or to Silver Wolf, at least. It should be a glass orb in my room. One that...Looks like fireworks on the inside." [ Firefly to Blade @starpaletted ]
Emotional Damages being charged to: @starpaletted
Blade did not reach for the gift immediately.
A thin panel. Smooth. Artificial. Quiet in a way that felt deliberate, as if it were holding its breath. His gaze lingered on its surface, faintly reflective, catching fragments of the room in broken angles. For a moment, he said nothing.
His grip was careful, almost at odds with the violence that lived in his hands. The screen flickered to life at the slight shift, casting soft color across his face. Bursts of light bloomed in silence. Gold fractured into violet. Crimson scattered like embers across a night that wasn’t there.
Not real. Not fleeting. Not something that vanished the moment it dared to be beautiful.
Blade watched the loop play once. Twice.
His expression did not change much, but something in his gaze stilled… sharpened inward instead of outward. A memory brushed against him, indistinct and unwelcome. Light blooming against darkness. Something warm. Something had gone before it could be held.
“...Persistent,” he said quietly.
(Not like the real thing. These don’t die the moment they’re seen.)
His thumb shifted slightly along the edge of the device, grounding himself in its weight. Artificial light continued to bloom and collapse in endless repetition, untouched by time, untouched by loss.
“The Trailblazer,” he added, voice low, steady again. “Will understand it.”
(A gift that doesn’t fade. That stays, even when everything else burns out. You chose that on purpose.)
Blade lowered the screen just enough to look at her fully now. There was something measured in that look. Not soft, not warm, but not entirely untouched either.
“You didn’t pick this frivolously.”
(You picked it because it says something you won’t.)
A brief pause. The fireworks reflected once more across his eyes, distant constellations trapped behind glass.
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