Adieu

Simple Desires (Dezmond)

Knowing well the state of mind she was in, and how she got when her mind started to race, Dezmond made sure to promptly answer any and all questions she may have. Firstly, about her father.

"I was there for Michael after the crash. It was very quick, he didn't suffer at all." Is all he'd say, not wanting to go into details of the conversation they'd shared once he'd actually passed. There was a lot of grief on both sides, particularly about the family and how they would carry on without him. Even as Dezmond promised to always keep Michayla safe for him, he knew his influence must always be little to non-existent.

Her fidgeting was impossible to not notice, soon realizing that he himself had picked up on showing his nervous queues as his fingers stilled and withdrew back to being folded neatly before himself. "I... Don't think that's how it works." He'd begin, though even in his tone he seemed unsure. It's not like this happened before, and he had a memory to recollect back on. After all, people in worse conditions than her exist, and they'd been in a state so close to death for so long that the only mercy would be letting them rest. Yet, they never saw their guardians until the time came where they'd finally found peace. What made her any different? Why was this even happening? Questions that hopefully would find answers soon enough, Dezmond would move to stand as she began to collect the remains on the table. Finding himself no longer a quiet observer, but an apparent lurker, he'd just stand awkwardly at the ready with his thumbs nervously twiddling between his still clasped hands.

Finally, she offered him a task. As well as a cup of tea, an offer that warmed him more than any hot beverage ever could. Never in his years of duty had an obligation offered him anything, how could they after all? His features softened, and a quiet chuckle came from his cosmetically colored lips. "I have no need for food or drink, but-" Pausing, realizing that maybe he'd never eaten or drank anything was because it was proof of his existence. "With honey, please." With that, he'd vanish just as quickly as he could appear. A glittering plume of light drifting in the air from where he once stood, and soon enough he'd return. This time in the kitchen by the sink, carrying exactly what she asked for and just as much as needed. Gathering herbs, and most other daily duties she'd done, was something he'd become familiar with himself. It actually felt nice doing these things for a change, no longer just an observer but actually practicing what he'd saw.

"You're fight isn't over yet, Mickey." Dezmond spoke softly with a slight ring of kindness in his tone, while speaking he would tend to rinsing the petals in low pressure water only to set them aside once done, knowing well she would tend to the rest of the process. Only once he'd finished would he flick his hands dry, and look to her again. "I don't know what this is that's going on, but I know miracles are always possible, and you only need one to get back on stage." Though it'd been a while since she'd last preformed, he'd hoped the reminder of her time as a musician could spark some hope back into her frail sickly body. After all, it was clear now that it was his desire to see her play yet again.