At least what he was working on before they got to port and everything went wrong is still safely tucked away in his cabin. His cabin, which now looks out onto the empty cosmos in all directions from its glass walls. His cabin, where he's set up grow lights on timers and reassured his plants that they'll be okay and the mountain was never real anyway. The mountain was never real anyway. It doesn't matter that he never got to see fall.
But the problem with going to port and then everything going wrong is that the present he was working on for Jedao isn't done. It's half-done, but...
It took him so long to get John's presents figured out, he wants to do something special on the right date for once. Which is why he is knocking on Jedao's door with a small, wrapped package, trying not to look as upset as he feels.
Because it's Edwin, the doors open instantly, and Jedao is coming to meet him, even though there are still seams of black across part of his face, more hidden under the more normal black of his hair. He's himself, though, a little tired around the eyes, smiling soft and warm to see Edwin.
"Morning, sunshine," he says softly, reach to pull him into a hug.
"After we did the laundry together, I knew you were my child that day," he admits, in a soft hush.
"I knew it was too much and I didn't have any idea how to ask you. But I knew loved you. That curse happened and everyone went insane. I told Hakkai we had a baby one week later."
He looks up at Jedao in surprise, then down at his gift wrapped package, and drops it into Jedao's lap before he hides his face against his dad's shoulder.
"I didn't have a chance to finish, but- I wanted to... give you a present. For today."
Inside is one sock, lumpy, in pink wool. It's slightly dizzying to look at, even though he stuck to one color and did his utmost best to keep his power away from the weave. Art is art, even when it's a sock.
Jedao opens it, and he just - he feels warm, all the way through, just like he does every time he does laundry and thinks of Edwin, just like he didn't, then, because Edwin was feeling it for him. He feels like some of the awful knotted-tight stuck feeling inside him every since the crash tugs gently apart.
"It's perfect, Sunshine," Jedao tells hims softly. There's no wavering or flinching as he looks at it - those other wild dimensions are where his kind once made their home. Even if he knows he'll have to be careful not to leave it in the hamper.
Edwin hides his face a little more securely, pleased and showing it with a little psychic trill instead of looking at Jedao. He feels weird, he's felt weird for days, and even the triumph of making Jedao feel good has a simmering anxiety under it, as though it could have gone wrong.
"At least now you've got a pair again. Or I could make the other one."
Jedao pets him idly, stroking down Edwin's head and back, scratching with his fingernails the way he would with a cat who liked firmer scratches, a specific grounding touch.
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But the problem with going to port and then everything going wrong is that the present he was working on for Jedao isn't done. It's half-done, but...
It took him so long to get John's presents figured out, he wants to do something special on the right date for once. Which is why he is knocking on Jedao's door with a small, wrapped package, trying not to look as upset as he feels.
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"Morning, sunshine," he says softly, reach to pull him into a hug.
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"Hello dad." He needs to say that word again. "Dad. Dad."
What a strange and miraculous single syllable.
"Do you know what day it is?"
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"It's the day we met."
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Jedao pets his little head.
"After we did the laundry together, I knew you were my child that day," he admits, in a soft hush.
"I knew it was too much and I didn't have any idea how to ask you. But I knew loved you. That curse happened and everyone went insane. I told Hakkai we had a baby one week later."
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"I didn't have a chance to finish, but- I wanted to... give you a present. For today."
Inside is one sock, lumpy, in pink wool. It's slightly dizzying to look at, even though he stuck to one color and did his utmost best to keep his power away from the weave. Art is art, even when it's a sock.
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"It's perfect, Sunshine," Jedao tells hims softly. There's no wavering or flinching as he looks at it - those other wild dimensions are where his kind once made their home. Even if he knows he'll have to be careful not to leave it in the hamper.
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"At least now you've got a pair again. Or I could make the other one."
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"Do you like knitting, so far?"
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"It's not bad. I'm not-- It's hard to not cheat when I get frustrated and make it fix itself."
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"I would probably feel the same way," he admits.