#hilo--keahi

Eva strode down the familiar streets of Club with confidence, her cane tapping against the cobbled pavement. The world around her seemed to be drowned in dark colors and shapes. Evening was fast approaching. Eva was unconcerned, though. She could just use her smelling and hearing to figure out where to head.

But that wasn’t needed today. Eva knew this part of Club. She knew how the cane’s sound resounded deeply off the trash cans of the alleyway to her right—it led to an old man’s leather-working shop. The rock that jutted at a sharp angle from the ground—Eva nimbly skirted around it after learning quickly as a child that twenty paces from said trash cans, she’d always tripped from that rock. The scent of sweat and salt indicating she’d neared the Boxing Club—she took a left away from it. Yes, Eva knew this place in a way that few probably understood it—with sound and touch and scent. Because her sight was certainly not doing her any favors.

She’d been coming here ever since she was a child. Even after defecting to Spade, the shapeshifter found herself visiting Hilo near weekly. It become routine to check in on him and rant about her life in Spade. Eva found his company to be the most reassuring in a world that seemed so uncertain. What had started as two disadvantaged souls looking out for each other had turned into a deep friendship. Hilo was the closest to family Eva had before her adoptive father had taken her in and that would never change. 

Eva could tell she was nearing Hilo’s home because her mouth started salivating at the smell of spices and meat and vegetables. Her feet carried her swiftly towards her friend and soon she was knocking against the door with fervor a wide grin making her look like a child ready to open a gift on her birthday.

“Hilo! I hope you’re ready with the biggest plate you have, ‘cause I haven’t eaten in forever.” If a couple hours counted. “I brought you some smoked jerky and a lot of stupid stories from work.”

   “ HEY — ! oh, that sounded really aggressive. ” way to fucking biff it already, genius. take your time. don’t stress it. you’re cool, totally cool, cool cool cool. you totally know how to talk to your friends and be a normal person. “ sorry, i’m used to shouting for absolutely no reason, because i’m constantly at a ten when i should be at around a four ? that’s what ara says, like, half the time. ”

   they seem to make such an unlikely pair, sunny thinks. sunny has never been a recluse, sure, but all of his friendships have been superficial. they never meant anything. they were these little ... bumps in the road, along the way. they happened, and then they were gone, and he moved on. he’s never been the kind of person who ... befriends people easily. too loud, too conceited, too much of a little bit of everything. now that he’s here, he feels — weird. exposed ? no, that’s not the right word. vulnerable ? maybe. maybe that works better than the former. 

   sunny pulls his sleeves over his hands, shifting uneasily between his feet. how do you ask people if they wanna do something with you ? friends hang out, right ? RIGHT ? SOMEONE HELP.

@hilo--keahi​

It was customary for Sullivan to sort of ‘sneak up’ on the Club unannounced; he’d been doing so since he was a young child. Hilo’s impressive rise and fall from glory was told to many Club children, almost like a fairytale. The difference being that Hilo was a ‘real’ living, breathing person whose life choices they were expected to learn from. While much bigger, stronger, more confrontational children sought out the fabled blacksmith, so too did Sullivan. Pale, scrawny, and insatiably curious, the enormous Club had waited with saintly patience until the boy worked up enough courage over the course of numerous weeks, to come close enough to speak to him.

“Can you fix this?” he’d asked the blacksmith, whose back was turned toward him. As always, he’d lingered nearby, out of sight, until it seemed Hilo was distracted by something else. Whether or not he actually startled him, Sullivan wasn’t sure, but he liked to think sometimes he surprised him. Today he held a large jar against his chest, almost hugging it to himself as if it were a precious object of his. It was.

While Hilo painstakingly measured and melted down his jar in order to rebuild it without imperfection, Sullivan settled down nearby and laid the story out fully, dramatically recounting the events from when he acquired the jar until he managed to salvage the treasure from within it. All of which leading up to his ambitious plan to seek out the River Witch. On cue, Hilo offered to accompany him on the dangerous mission, which Sullivan might’ve given away when he replied. “Great! I’m off on Tuesday! See you then!”

Now that it was Tuesday, Sullivan arrived at Hilo’s with an enormous pack on his back. He was dressed much differently than what had become usual for him. No ruffles or shiny buttons; just muted ‘comfortable’ looking attire and sturdy boots. As always, he waited until Hilo’s back was turned before he emerged from around the nearest building.

“Ready to head out?” he asked in a surprisingly cheery tone.