"I've always had a penchant for gift giving, so think nothing of it, ha!"

Wow, there sure were lots of shops! From snacks, to clothes, Knick Knacks and doodads… They were all pretty expensive too, no doubt the price of tropical luxury. He sighed as he peeked into his money pouch, which wasn’t as full as he would’ve liked. He already splurged a little on his new swimsuit and he really wanted to buy some souvenirs for everyone back home. Maybe if he put a little less into his snack fund….?

Before he could truly consider it though, a voice from came from behind him. Turning around he noticed it was one of his teammates, wearing a red bandana just like him!

“Oh, Mister! Hello!” He waved, trying to not let his previous fretting show. The mage’s expression turned into one of surprise when Quan gave him the kind offer. It would be the solution to all his problems! With a little help he would’ve had enough money to buy snacks and souvenirs. “Are you sure? Thank you!” He did a polite bow as a show of genuine gratitude.

“Then..” Pressing a finger against his cheek lightly, he looked at the items on sale to see what he would take. “Ah!” He noticed a “make your own bracelet” kit on one of the displays. It was a bag full of seashells, lettered stamps and string. The packaging guaranteed you could make at least 20 bracelets with it. “That one, that one! Uh, please!”

Quan had told her not to look outside until he knocked, lest she be spoiled. (And honestly, if she did, he would not have held it against her. Somehow, the ruckus he and a couple of volunteers had riled up outside was as much a spectacle as the gift itself.)

Outside their apartment was a newfound potted garden: daffodils, orange and pink roses, and poppies danced from every sized pot he could get his hands on. Though they were sharing this apartment with everyone else, he made something entirely and wholly hers, as petals cascaded down pots and handle rails. He had even set out to hammer in a new windowsill planter, with new flowers for her to look out to. This was just a taste of what he wanted to do for her. He wished to have planted an entire field of flowers in her honor, but he had neither the authority nor the land to do so. So this was a declaration, a sea away. That even if they had nothing, they still had each other.

"Happy birthday, my... everything. I can only hope you know, I miss you, even now. And love you, more than I could ever bear to miss you."

"And… that through everything, all I wish is to do right by you."

He sighs from his nose, shoulders slowly losing their tension. "I don't wish to lose you." A sheepish smile, more a fool's than a king's, reaches his lips. "So I can only hope to reach you like this."

"It is your day, Ethlyn. You have always been my queen, since the day I set my eyes on you for the first time."

Ethlyn has never been good at waiting and now is certainly no exception. There is noise, so much noise, outside her door and she longs to peek through the crack in the curtains if even just for a tiny glimpse of what her husband could possibly be up to.

But, for as long as she's known him, Quan has held a promise sacred. It is a vow not to be broken and she told him she would not look until she heard him knock. She won't break his trust, even if it is just for something like this.

Instead, she paces the room (she never was good at sitting still either, especially in moments where she needed to) and recalls the past birthdays she's shared with him. The expensive jewels, the fine gowns, the grandiose gestures that expressed his love for her. He always has done too much to celebrate her but she'd never begrudge him of it. She knows this is how he shows his feelings and she is simply glad to be the one he has entrusted his heart to.

The knock finally comes and Ethlyn sprints to the door. She throws it open, excitement and anticipation bubbling over inside her but the sight before her stops her in her tracks, then slows her pace. She has to step outside the door to fully admire his efforts.

Her door, their door, is full of life and color. In two years of living here, she hadn't even rearranged the layout of the furniture let alone added any decoration or personal touch to the room she had been provided. But now, with Quan here, with this gift he has given her, it finally looks like a home.

It finally is home.

"Altena." He finally finds her and she is astounding. Embalmed in her private agonies, she shows fairly less upset than her usual stout expression. Or perhaps he was just seeing what he wanted to see. Either way, Quan's smile softens. What a fine young woman she has grown into. "Would you care for a small dish of pomegranate seeds?"

He clears his throat, fist balled over his mouth. "You look beautiful tonight, Altena... I am..." Quan's shoulders slack just slightly to reveal a more vulnerable posture. He shaves off the soft edges for her, though awkward and gangly his fatherly gestures may be. "Quite pleased to see you attending the ball."

She expected this. It was hard to imagine that her father would sit this event out and harder still to think he might leave her in peace. She turns to face him as he calls for her, her name sounding strange yet vaguely familiar in his voice.

The offering of pomegranate seeds softens her expression, the conversation she had with Eliwood still fresh in her mind. They really do look incredible. "Oh thanks. My...Eliwood...he told me how delicious they were earlier." She reaches for one of the seeds and pops it into her mouth and her eyes immediately widen in amazement. "Oh...that's delicious. Is this something you ate in Leonster?" She's always been partial to fruits but it was a rare delicacy and a special treat growing up in Thracia.

He tells her she looks beautiful and she wonders if this sort of event would have been more commonplace in her life if he had been the father to raise her. She sees the poofy gown Nanna wears and wonders if she'd have worn something froofy like that if she was raised to be used to fancy balls.

"Finn!" He looks at the boy fondly, putting much behind them to relish in the evening. Quan notes that he looks gaunt. Though perhaps it's a matter of perspective, now that he knows that decades dust the boy's shoulders. Finn is a person, a heart, a carrier of Quan's legacy. He would do his best to cherish the boy, who had given much to bring them to today. "Good evening to you. My, and on a night like this, you still look out for me, don't you?" His smirk widens, pride showcased on his wide chest and even wider shoulders. He tells it to him straight. "It would be pleasant if you would stay with me." His eyebrow quirks as he starts to sight the back of Finn's head, blue like yesterday. Quan muses on the boy's growing pains, noting that it must have been fruitful now that Finn was a couple inches taller than even Quan himself. Even a boy haunted by ghosts is a man when the hour strikes. "The evening is too young! What is your haste, my boy? Would you care to be my companion, if just for a short while?" Taking a sip from the flute, Quan felt its warmth run down his gullet. "Here, here. You will be needing this." He plucks a glass from a wandering caterer, offering it to his old vassal in waves of celebration. "Tell me. Is this setting not to your liking?" His eyes flicker slyly. "I've never been one for balls or gatherings of this sort. I'd much rather be out in the fields, doing a round of training." It's odd. He never would have spoken a word of his preferences to his squire if they were still working in the past. But now that Finn had become someone else entirely, he found it easier to admit this more loosely. It wasn't as though it was a lesser desire, or that the dynamics had really changed between them, but Quan had never felt the need to push the quandaries of his private desires. Quan? Not enjoying a decadant ball? Who was he to admit that, prior to dying? Prior to losing everything? Now that he was here, such truths came easier. Much of who he was was worn on his sleeve, and the rest were locked behind a prideful set of eyes that always looked up to the moon.

And although Finn walks although he has forgotten how to breath, Lord Quan welcomes him as if its merely another night in Leonster where the moon hangs low and the air is merry. Finn cannot understand, he will not understand. He refuses to. Lord Quan, who sits heavy on his chest and squeezes the air from his lungs. Lord Quan, who is the beacon of all that is great and honorable, merely parading around as a shadow of himself on the monastery grounds as if he had never passed? As if the life was never ripped from his precious soul? It angers Finn to think of the very delusion, and yet this is what he is tasked with. However, to oppose him is a task that he has neither the will nor ability to handle.

Lord Quan hands him and glass and exudes an air of absolute calm and glad. Finn stands next to him with dread in his belly and angst palpitating in his heart. A jest about the setting is not enough to calm his nerves! 

"Ah, yes. It is very lovely," Finn responds. 

Even now, with Finn far older and taller than Lord Quan, the lord is a mountain, a god, a precipice far above him. Merely standing next to him again at such a ceremony only reminds him of days of old, when he was only a lad and knew nothing. Now the clock has turned, and perhaps he has lost it all. The thought of it all makes Finn want to tear out his hair. How does Lord Quan stand here like this!!

Something. He must say something.