[ a kshahrewar with eleazar sees a painted canvas, sees history that has been made, sees dreams that have come true. it is a colorful world, it is tales to be told and memories to cherish. it is said that kshahrewar darshan is made of wide-eyed people, that kshahrewar students must think outside the box, and see beyond what is shown. alhaitham, he thinks, does not show him the landscape of sumeru city, the evergreen trees past it, a part of himself out into the distance. he shows him a world that has not yet abandoned him. a world that exists, beautiful and eternal, eleazar or not.

a world that has not at all been swallowed by darkness. ]

... That's why I told just walking out the gates is fine.

[ it would be simple. it would the guilt of dependency weigh less. it would make him far less happy. kaveh would have succumbed to the loneliness of it all. kaveh would have seen a world yellow and blue and green, and thought, in spite of everything, that he is utterly disconnected from it.

alhaitham, however, is always one step ahead. alhaitham reads him like a book, each and every time, a book he has long memorized, a book he knows by heart. alhaitham never allows him to fall.

he rests his head on alhaitham's shoulder. the breeze, the little kaveh can feel of it, is nice. the scenery is one he will keep to memory, and when his hands work, he will sketch it out. a memory to cherish, a tale to be told. ]

We should camp out, one of these days. Go fishing. Maybe trying out next things aren't so bad.