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The Black Shores are an archipelago cloaked in quiet. Not many live on the islands, and as Bloom Bearers, they all have duties they must tend to. There is precious little wildlife save for the fish and the lingering TDs, making for a peaceful environment. There isn't the bustle of a city, nor the heartbeat of a forest. The Shores aren't silent, not for the waves or the monsoons or the constant humming of machines and data streams, but there is something still about them. An emptiness that Eleanor could never quite explain, even after a decade of bearing the Blake Bloom. At least, not until the Chief Steward returned.
For a while, she thought it was because of the celebration. Fixing the Tethys System, welcoming a long-lost leader; everyone was in high spirits. The future seemed bright, even with the constantly hanging threat of the Lament. People spoke louder, laughed more. With the Chief Steward around, even the tiniest of problems seemed to resolve in record time.
While happy for the change of atmosphere, Eleanor was sure that the stillness would eventually return. But to her surprise, day passed after day, week after week, and the cheer stayed. It dulled a little, sure, but it still remained.
She chews on her nail as she parses the file of another new candidate. A man from Septimont with promising capabilities both in combat and in diplomacy; perhaps the job of a Consultant would fit him. She marks the file for a more detailed review later. Wonders if she should take advantage of the good spirits and talk with Artemisia again. Then, as she reaches to open the next document, movement catches here eyes; the Shorekeeper.
Face always solemn, cold and solid as tacetite but still graceful as a butterfly, the Shorekeeper has always been the Black Shores' anchor. At least, that's how Eleanor thinks of her. While she is always helpful, always understanding, there is something intimidating about her, perhaps the weight of millenia she carries in her eyes without the smallest of flinches. She is always composed as she drifts through the halls, but she also carries a quiet sort of sadness. It cloaks her, like a fine mist, barely noticable and easy to get used to.
Or, it used to cloak her.
The air almost warms as the Shorekeeper enters the office. Here for data transfer, she says to one of the fellow Gardeners, as she walks to a screen. Something changed about her since Rover's return. She's been leaving the Eidoscope, though never for long periods of time. She's been smiling more, and they carry genuine joy, not just reassurance like before. Eleanor even heard her laugh, once. She was walking with the Chief Steward, conversing about some matter; perhaps they cracked a joke, or told a particularly amusing anecdote that got the Shorekeeper laughing. The sound was gentle, quiet, light as a feather. Still, it awed Eleanor. She's never heard the Shorekeeper do that before.
Now, despite the work waiting for her, she can't help but watch the Shorekeeper. She's as graceful as ever as she works on the screen, focus sharp, until a spectral butterfly flits onto her hand. Her attention splits, and she lifts the butterfly to her face. There is no sound, none that Eleanor can hear, at the very least, but she appears to be listening. Then, she smiles.
"I see. Thank you for telling me." The butterfly lifts off Shorekeeper's finger, and disperses into the air. She turns to the Gardener she talked to before. "I have to go find the Astral Modulator. Finish the transfer and check the system for overlaps. Notify me about any discrepancies."
She leaves exactly as she arrived, quiet and elegant. Her mood seems to stay behind, though, and Eleanor finds herself content to get back to the files. It seems that that missing piece has finally returned, and the Shores are happier for it.
Aalto likes living and interesting life.
As a Consultant of the Black Shores and as an information broker, he sees plenty of trouble. The Black Shores are there at the worst tragedies and the heaviest tolls paid, all around the world; many become Gardeners after years of fieldwork, some retire completely. If asked, most of them would agree that they'd rather live in boring times. But Aalto lives for the thrill.
The thrill, and the gossip.
He's not blind, you see. Quite the opposite, in fact; sees plenty, and hears plenty. It's his job, really. And although things have been taking a fascinating turn ever since Rover's arrival on the Shore, and the adrenaline has been wonderful, what he's having far more fun with is the Astral Modulator themselves.
Rover is a fascinating person. No memories, an impossible resonance ability, calm, kind, and capable; the youthful founder of the centuries old organization of the Black Shores. They are a feast of secrets. Their company is pleasant, and Aalto is finding them to be everything he would hope from both a person and a leader. It's not hard to find an excuse to spend time by their side, and Aalto's been taking his opportunities to observe Rover.
And one of the things he's been very, very curious about, is their relationship with the Shorekeeper.
While he admires her as the keeper of the organization, she's too dutiful and responsible for him to feel anything more than deep respect for her. Some Bloom Bearers are friends, others are convenient targets for pranks and pestering, and even Camellya is more fun than the Shorekeeper. However, that cold and detached demeanor has seen obvious change since Rover returned. And, while Aalto's only known the Chief Steward for a brief period of time before they came to the Black Shores, it seemed that they have changed, too.
There was no doubt about the fact that the two of them were close. Real close. They could communicate with a glance, a single whisper. The Shorekeeper, ever absorbed in work and responsibility, was walking around the Shores more, often with Rover by her side. Their shared yet forgotten history seemed to weave a spiderweb between them, an ever so thickening connection.
The sun is shining brightly for once as Aalto strolls through the gardens. Encore is off with Camellya today, no wonder causing trouble Aalto will be getting his ear chewed off about later, but that's fine. That's fine, because he spots a familiar figure clad in dark greys and gold standing by one of the flowerbeds, looking absolutely perturbed. And Aalto can always spot a deal waiting to be made.
"Well, well, well. If it isn't our most esteemed Chief Steward!" Rover flinches, but smiles when he looks at Aalto. "Enjoying the see breeze?"
"…You could say that." Fascinating, how the armor of a leader slots into place around them. It doesn't hide the uncertainty, not really, more just draws the eye to the image of a person who is ready — and capable — to help. "What about you? Taking a day off?"
They fit the Shores perfectly. As if it was built by their own two hands; which, it kind of literally was. Still, it's startling just how seamlessly they melt into the landscape, into the comings and goings of the people around. It stuns even Aalto himself. The muscle memory of familiarity.
"An information broker is always working," he grins. Rover huffs at that, the question in their eyes growing clearer with every second. Hook, line, and sinker.
"Say, Aalto. Can I ask a question?"
Unlike most of Aalto's customers, Rover knows exactly what is happening. Like many of Aalto's customers, the price they will have to pay is going to be smaller than expected.
"You just did!" He barks out a laugh before continuing. "But I suppose I can make an exception for our gracious leader. What would you like to inquire about?"
"Shorekeeper." The answer comes instantly. There is something in the way Rover says it, something indecipherable that Aalto decides to file away for later. "It's… You've known her for a long time now. Is there a particular habit she enjoys?"
"A particular habit…" As intriguing the question is, as difficult it happens to be. Shorekeeper rarely does anything other than work. "She spends most of her time managing Tethys, but every one in a while she plays the piano in the greenhouse. Other than that, I'm not sure I can help with."
At that, Rover smiles. It's small, barely a quirk of their lips and the softening of their features, yet it's awfully tender. "I see. Thank you." They then keep looking at Aalto, eyebrow raising higher with every passing second. "Is the broker not going to name the price?"
Right! Right, the price. Aalto adjusts his sunglasses and pulls out his most winning smile. "The price! Well, for our most beloved Astral Modulator only, how about an IOU? With the full warranty that it will not be used for anything malicious."
Rover sighs, but there is no exasperation in their voice. "Sounds like a good deal to me."
"A happy you makes a happy me!" Aalto claps them on the shoulder. "Pleasure doing business."
The wind brings warm sunshine and the smell of salt. It is a beautiful day indeed. As he wanders away, he can't shake the feeling that the answer Rover got from him was different from what he gave. But he is absolutely certain that it was the one they needed.
They can hear the soft piano melody even before they enter the greenhouse. It steals their breath away, just a little; a feeling of deep, unexpected familiarity. Rover's been feeling a lot that, lately. The Black Shores are like the place of a missing tooth, always reminding them of something they can't remember. Just like Shorekeeper.
Untangling their feelings from the muscle memory of love has been difficult. Their past haunts them the most here. The Black Shores is their coffin. Mausoleum? A facility named after them for their meaningful contributions? Sometimes, they look at the aetherfins and feel like they've looked at them thousands of times before. Sometimes, they gaze down at the gray cliffs and feel like they've spent centuries in this place. All the time, when they speak with Shorekeeper, they feel like that's all they used to do.
And yet, the feelings stay. Rover enters the greenhouse, having had come here on a mere hunch. Things don't change just because they don't remember them. Muscle memory. Again. Butterflies line their ribcage, brilliant and blue, as they ascend the stairs to the piano, as they settle on the bench next to Shorekeeper.
"Rover." The music fades out like the last drops of rain. "May I be of assistance?"
"Just wanted to spend some time with you. I hope I'm not intruding?"
She looks at them. In her eyes, a millenia of memories, on her lips a tender smile. The feeling is like falling flakes of snow, piling on Rover without notice until the weight of it draws their shoulders down. Homesickness, one of the Bloom Bearers had described it as.
"Not at all."
Shorekeeper resumes playing. Her presence keeps soothing Rover. The sting of their missing past is a constant, especially here, but it fades by Shorekeeper's side. Something warm blooms inside of them every time they are together. It fills them up, and fills them still until it feels like they are about to burst open.
They close their eyes, and allow themselves to bask in the feeling of being home.
Shorekeeper feels sparingly. Emotions are faint, confusing things, hard to identify and easy to miss.
Some, she can recognize now. Worry is like cool water on her skin. Contentment is like a butterfly landing on her shoulder, with soft and weightless wings.
She knows pain, though. Physical pain as her body falls apart, remnant crystals splintering off. Physical pain when Tethys pours too much data into her and she burns and burns and burns on the inside. Physical pain as her star erases their memories, and leaves the Black Shores behind.
The work of the Black Shores is not easy, and a portion of its weight falls onto her shoulders. She didn't know how easy it was to bear while she had her star by her side, not until they were gone, leaving behind an aching emptiness. But she was made for this, for keeping this duty, and she fulfilled her tasks without a singular mistake. A tool does not feel, should not feel; it is not made for that. Her purpose has always been to follow the Chief Steward's orders and keep this haven of hope safe.
So that is what she did.
Year after year.
Decade after decade.
Until… They returned. And now, Rover walks these shores again. And there is a strange new feeling in Shorekeeper, one that simultaniously feels like overheating and waking up from a period of much needed rest in the Eidoscope. It overtakes her every time she looks at her star, every time she thinks of them. She feels energized, which makes no sense; her energy needs are not influenced by the mere presence of Rover. And yet, it's as if a missing sliver of code finally found its place. Suddenly, everything fits into place. Suddenly, everything feels right.
She plays a well-practiced melody on her piano, Rover's presence by her side like the soothing light of the aetherfins. She let's them stay silent and still. It's been too long since they've been home.
But now, they are here. And Shorekeeper's nonexistent heart finally feels complete.