There's a shard of silence following Inigo's words, blue eyes turning to stare at him openly before his companion stifles his amusement-- catching it in the cage of his ribs as bright as sunshine, but unwilling to be boisterous with it. It huffs through his lungs in quiet laughter, hushed behind the trails of the hidden confession he still doesn't know how to voice.
"Three steps away, hun. Which three steps?" he asks teasingly in return, but he doesn't actually expect an answer for that. Worse, he's not sure what he'd do if Inigo has an answer for that, and he's-- still playing pretend. A mortal lie, in some ways.
Which doesn't mean it's any easier to say the words aloud.
"Sunshine's literally a bottle of sunshine." He might as well start there. Trace back the objects that have come to mean so much to him. "Y'could hold it up an' see it gleam~" There's laughter again in Esteban's voice, brighter when he shares this, the joy that he has when he sees these gentle reminders.
"There's a bit of sand 'cause he likes the beach, but it's mostly water. I like the way sunlight bounces in it. There's a wave that churns at the bottle's neck, curls 'round it an' make a loop." His hands make a vague shape to indicate the bottle, then a quick circle where there is a loop of glass crystalized as a wave.
"Through it, there's a thread an' a lil' fin danglin'-- that's for Gibs!" He has to move away, because if he sticks to describing them all in as much detail as he's given them, they'll be sitting there for hours if not more.
"Amaya's a pair of gauntlets. Someone's gone ahead an' made an armor for her, but I find it... too shiny-- too bright." And a little too perfect. A reflection rather than the reality of things.
"So these ones 're duller, darker. I wanna find a design to etch on the forearms--" yes, he's aware that would make them weaker. Decorative gauntlets. But it's his hoard, he does what he wants with it! "-- but I'm not sure what yet. I'm thinkin' a tree; but that might be too..." he winces. Tree symbology is a little awkward in his mind, and yet he can't help but view her as a sturdy, gentle presence. Something tall and standing proud, despite the losses.
"They're set on a trainin' dummy, an the hands are placed like this--" and at this, Esteban presses both his index fingers and his thumbs together, leaving the three others raised, before he draws a circle with them, and leaves the side of his palms pressed together. It's his SCA that pipes up this time, a metallic {family} that resonates in the small area which they're occupying.
"Allen's a lil' bitty snowman--" Sorry Allen-- "Sittin' on a deck of cards. Romeo's a plush toy of a fox, with a lil' satchel of nuts an' mushrooms. Najaran's a white cloth pressed 'gainst a shard of blue 's bright as the sky. Kitty--" And this slows him down, hitting a note from someone that they no longer have access to; but he keeps going, because Kitty was important to him all the same. They hadn't had a chance to talk as much as he would have liked, and he misses her. But she is there, in his hoard.
"Kitty's a black cat mask, an' it has a-- oh, it's not a veil, per say? It's kind of thin an' see-through, but there's beads--" It stops him. For the way he'd been talking and talking, leaping from one item to the next, this full-on stops him, because he doesn't know the words, he doesn't know what comes next, he doesn't know what else to say. His eagerness withdraws, chased away by the losses, but he can't... leave it like this.
"Ev'ryone that I care for, ev'ryone that I meet an' love an' laugh with. I make up somethin'. I make up somethin' pretty an' press what I know 'bout them in the design. Catch memories in it an' whatever brightness I can find." He smiles, softer now, the wind snuffed from his sails, caught drifting in the memories.
"That's my hoard." And he would give so much, just to see them all happy.
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"Three steps away, hun. Which three steps?" he asks teasingly in return, but he doesn't actually expect an answer for that. Worse, he's not sure what he'd do if Inigo has an answer for that, and he's-- still playing pretend. A mortal lie, in some ways.
Which doesn't mean it's any easier to say the words aloud.
"Sunshine's literally a bottle of sunshine." He might as well start there. Trace back the objects that have come to mean so much to him. "Y'could hold it up an' see it gleam~" There's laughter again in Esteban's voice, brighter when he shares this, the joy that he has when he sees these gentle reminders.
"There's a bit of sand 'cause he likes the beach, but it's mostly water. I like the way sunlight bounces in it. There's a wave that churns at the bottle's neck, curls 'round it an' make a loop." His hands make a vague shape to indicate the bottle, then a quick circle where there is a loop of glass crystalized as a wave.
"Through it, there's a thread an' a lil' fin danglin'-- that's for Gibs!" He has to move away, because if he sticks to describing them all in as much detail as he's given them, they'll be sitting there for hours if not more.
"Amaya's a pair of gauntlets. Someone's gone ahead an' made an armor for her, but I find it... too shiny-- too bright." And a little too perfect. A reflection rather than the reality of things.
"So these ones 're duller, darker. I wanna find a design to etch on the forearms--" yes, he's aware that would make them weaker. Decorative gauntlets. But it's his hoard, he does what he wants with it! "-- but I'm not sure what yet. I'm thinkin' a tree; but that might be too..." he winces. Tree symbology is a little awkward in his mind, and yet he can't help but view her as a sturdy, gentle presence. Something tall and standing proud, despite the losses.
"They're set on a trainin' dummy, an the hands are placed like this--" and at this, Esteban presses both his index fingers and his thumbs together, leaving the three others raised, before he draws a circle with them, and leaves the side of his palms pressed together. It's his SCA that pipes up this time, a metallic {family} that resonates in the small area which they're occupying.
"Allen's a lil' bitty snowman--" Sorry Allen-- "Sittin' on a deck of cards. Romeo's a plush toy of a fox, with a lil' satchel of nuts an' mushrooms. Najaran's a white cloth pressed 'gainst a shard of blue 's bright as the sky. Kitty--" And this slows him down, hitting a note from someone that they no longer have access to; but he keeps going, because Kitty was important to him all the same. They hadn't had a chance to talk as much as he would have liked, and he misses her. But she is there, in his hoard.
"Kitty's a black cat mask, an' it has a-- oh, it's not a veil, per say? It's kind of thin an' see-through, but there's beads--" It stops him. For the way he'd been talking and talking, leaping from one item to the next, this full-on stops him, because he doesn't know the words, he doesn't know what comes next, he doesn't know what else to say. His eagerness withdraws, chased away by the losses, but he can't... leave it like this.
"Ev'ryone that I care for, ev'ryone that I meet an' love an' laugh with. I make up somethin'. I make up somethin' pretty an' press what I know 'bout them in the design. Catch memories in it an' whatever brightness I can find." He smiles, softer now, the wind snuffed from his sails, caught drifting in the memories.
"That's my hoard." And he would give so much, just to see them all happy.