( there aren't many ghosts that have trailed after him, thankfully; one or two that linger and watch with the muted consideration of those who've had their own reasons to move through this world while having departed from life, helping where they can. the help is no longer needed. they are idle hands, transparent and clasping themselves as dead eyes watch a celebration of life.

it is good, to be alive, they think. even if they are not.

Yuri throws his arms open, checking himself at the last possible second so that his forward momentum is pulled back, inviting Anya into his embrace without throwing himself at her, like he's done for years with his Grandpa. she's a riot of colour that barely registers: what's more important is her being real, not one of the memories dancing around in his head. he catches her up and lifts her, spinning her around even as he crushes her close. )

You're here! You're okay? Is that a dragon? You didn't get queen'd in the last few weeks, did you?

( they're silly questions and ones that matter to him both, a mix without clear boundaries. he sets her down, not wanting to make her dizzy or make himself much the same. he's still smiling, the lion catching up and nudging into his back, dropping his pack and shaking its massive head again, chuffing. Yuri laughs again, smiling at Anya as he pulls back to see her face again. she's okay.

he doesn't realise how much of a balm that is to the rough edges of his soul, after weeks of traveling with strangers who became acquaintances, perhaps one day friends. Yuri's bad at bonding; he hasn't minded those he's traveled and fought with, but they're not home. they're not the people he worried about and thought about and dreamed about and didn't know if they were stuck in similar horrid places, or were somewhere better, or somewhere worse. )

I missed you.

( he missed his version of everyone. he'll tell that to each of them, one by one. )