[ The thing about Reigen, is that he's all bluff. He'll bluff until something calls it, and even then, he'll bluff his way right up to the point where it kills him. As long as he doesn't concede, there will always be a chance that he was telling the truth. Even when bluffing, he knows when to not pick a fight he can't win. He'd rather give in, avoid it, figure out how to move around it -- anything, other than run the risk of losing an argument. He's never lost an argument, nor a fight, because he doesn't really go looking for trouble.
It's why he's here, in secret, with a bunch of Atirat -- doing his own thing without asking for permission or letting on to his plans. Amos comes at him like a guy ready to issue commands, and Reigen manages to duck the authority as non-combatively as possible. He does his best.
Getting Amos to take the bowl is a victory, however small. It means that Reigen can leave the pot of stew with him, beaming in Amos's face like he's pleased to have the help and not running a thousand calculations at once, in favor of approaching the frozen kids. Stripping off his gloves, he wiggles his fingers - flexing them to warm them up in the biting chill of the air. ]
People will always matter. Kids matter more, because they're dependent on adults like us to protect and provide for them. Good adults help kids. Sometimes, they take on the difficult task of teaching other adults how to be good, too.
[ With a rasp of Sand, he sets one hand atop the smallest figure's head. The smallest Atirat child, barely up to his hip and round with youth; however it works, however he's able to pass his Sand along to the child, they come alive in achingly slow bursts. The fold of a limb, the twitch of an eye. And suddenly, he's on his knee alongside them, holding them around the chest with one arm, the other cradling their head to his shoulder as they make broken, confused sounds. ]
There, there. [ He says, looking over their head towards Amos with a fond expression. Like he's glad for the help, and ignorant of the threat Amos could be. Or at least, more interested in how soft the guy is, and how he yielded his authority for kids. A good adult, in the making. ] We're here for you, we've got you now.
no subject
It's why he's here, in secret, with a bunch of Atirat -- doing his own thing without asking for permission or letting on to his plans. Amos comes at him like a guy ready to issue commands, and Reigen manages to duck the authority as non-combatively as possible. He does his best.
Getting Amos to take the bowl is a victory, however small. It means that Reigen can leave the pot of stew with him, beaming in Amos's face like he's pleased to have the help and not running a thousand calculations at once, in favor of approaching the frozen kids. Stripping off his gloves, he wiggles his fingers - flexing them to warm them up in the biting chill of the air. ]
People will always matter. Kids matter more, because they're dependent on adults like us to protect and provide for them. Good adults help kids. Sometimes, they take on the difficult task of teaching other adults how to be good, too.
[ With a rasp of Sand, he sets one hand atop the smallest figure's head. The smallest Atirat child, barely up to his hip and round with youth; however it works, however he's able to pass his Sand along to the child, they come alive in achingly slow bursts. The fold of a limb, the twitch of an eye. And suddenly, he's on his knee alongside them, holding them around the chest with one arm, the other cradling their head to his shoulder as they make broken, confused sounds. ]
There, there. [ He says, looking over their head towards Amos with a fond expression. Like he's glad for the help, and ignorant of the threat Amos could be. Or at least, more interested in how soft the guy is, and how he yielded his authority for kids. A good adult, in the making. ] We're here for you, we've got you now.