( he could reach out, let the weight of nami's grief and guilt crash into him like a typhoon, but there's something invasive about it he can't shake. intrusive, in a way he isn't sure he's earned. instead, he opens himself up, like sunlight breaking through a thick canopy, a steady beam of warmth, a blanket to wrap around her shoulders and say i'm still here, i'll take care of you.
he knows, too well, what it is to lose someone you love, after all. what that ache feels like. the guilt. the regret. (buggy left, completely alone.) zoro isn't dead β shanks would have felt that, too β but his absence is just as devastating. alive somewhere that isn't here, and so far out of their reach. not knowing if they'll ever see him again. so many things unsaid. (they're the same that way, him and nami. they should have said more in the time they had.)
but none of that he can convey well enough through text. so, after some time, he simply shows up at nami's door. the soft orange glow of her presence is duller than it usually is, but it still led him here. )
Nami? ( there's a light knock at the door; a bit difficult while his hand is currently occupied with a warm glass of spiked orange tea. she may not want to see him, but he's here anyway. that's what parents do when their child is grieving. ) Open the door. Please. ( a beat, then: ) I brought you tea.
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he knows, too well, what it is to lose someone you love, after all. what that ache feels like. the guilt. the regret. (buggy left, completely alone.) zoro isn't dead β shanks would have felt that, too β but his absence is just as devastating. alive somewhere that isn't here, and so far out of their reach. not knowing if they'll ever see him again. so many things unsaid. (they're the same that way, him and nami. they should have said more in the time they had.)
but none of that he can convey well enough through text. so, after some time, he simply shows up at nami's door. the soft orange glow of her presence is duller than it usually is, but it still led him here. )
Nami? ( there's a light knock at the door; a bit difficult while his hand is currently occupied with a warm glass of spiked orange tea. she may not want to see him, but he's here anyway. that's what parents do when their child is grieving. ) Open the door. Please. ( a beat, then: ) I brought you tea.