rexerrat:
{ 👑 } ❝YOU BETTER BE SAFE, YOU – YOU —- ugh …❞ A pain in the back of his throat halts the man on his tirade. Gangrel sighs, head shifting to thunk against Nabor’s chest. ❝You … I know you had no choice. I only rant and rave because it feels GOOD to let out steam.❞ The embarrassment tastes like salt on his tongue, not disgusting, but dry. Too much and he’d be begging for water.
A HAND TUGS NABOR INSIDE, RELUCTANT to part, but needing to breathe, to sit comfortably upon a sofa or bed, and not the doorway to an apartment shared with strangers. Nabor is now home, he ought to act like it. Petals are kicked up as the Mahjarrat is rushed in, with the URGENCY of a touch starved, hungry man. But Gangrel is not thinking lecherously. With the pollen infecting him, he may not even be able to make jokes of that nature.
❝I FIND MYSELF TELLING THE TRUTH more often lately. This damn pollen in the air. Heh, I want to make a joke about us being intimate —- but I don’t know if I could even be CAPABLE of that.❞ A wily grin between the folds of Nabor’s robe, before he holds his love even closer. ❝How fortunate - that the only one I’m being ‘forced’ to tell the truth around is you.❞
▄▀ — "So the City is up to its tricks again? It hasn't changed one bit." Comforting, almost, though maybe that's the gentle warmth of Gangrel's honesty, and not the familiarity of this hellscape. Still, better than the remnants of his asylum, desolated and mauled as it was. He allows himself to be lead, to sit carefully upon the edge of the bed, hands settling in his lap. A heavy sigh, until it dawns on him; the scratching pain in his throat, the pollen, perhaps such difficulties with keeping truths under wraps were connected?
But it was Gangrel, and no-one else. Still, it hurt. "I was... scared. When I was locked in my institute, I tried to continue my research, but things did not go to plan." Yet here he was, still breathing, face as constructed as if fresh from a recent ritual. Perhaps the most jarring feeling came from being so withered to so refreshed with nothing in between. "There's little that can happen to me here. We've dealt with enough together, haven't we?"
He plucks a petal from the linen, leaning against Gangrel beside him, mind finally at ease for the first time in a while. "These flowers... they make you speak more than usual?"















