The bar’s all well and good, but its heat sinks into the folds of your headwrap and your skin and fins sweat, your gills protesting that they’ve been forgotten as you drink water but don’t run it over them.
The others are hanging around somewhere; no doubt Hadean’s skipped off to meet some other member of his social spiderweb.
You sit and lean against a bench outside, and while the increase in your comfort is minimal, at least it’s less immediately crowded; fewer people to be aware of, though you’ve let your guard down quite a lot. Why not? It’s not like you’re on the job, and anyone who saw you as a seadweller is unlikely to question you dressed as a bronze; most sensible trolls have a healthier sense of self-preservation than that.
A medium sized white meowbeast of some sort - someone’s lusus, no doubt - strays near you and then hisses and pads back, its short tail bushed out and tufted ears laid back before it spins and races off.
Someone starts shaking an instrument - a sistrum, you think - nearby and you toss a caeger. They blow a kiss, and you get up to take a bow in return before sitting again, fingers tapping along on the bench slats.
Giving blood always tires out out in a weird, bone-deep way that you can’t fix by just taking a breather. Fortunately, you have the somewhat unique talent of falling asleep any time, any place at the drop of a hat - which, unfortunately for you, is probably related to the fact that you also wake up on a dime. Passing out on Em’s couch in a rumpled dress shirt after failing to wrestle through the bag you’d packed for the weekend for your actual sleepwear or even any sopor patches is restful enough - but when the door to Emerel’s hive opens and closes, you go from pressing sleep lines into your cheek courtesy of the couch pattern to wide awake and heading towards the entryway in five seconds flat.
“Pheres!” you call out, dragging your hair out of your face, and belatedly realize you look pretty ridiculous. Luckily for you, he at least hasn’t got anybody with him. Still, you end up scrambling to tie your hair back into something at least a little bit more sensible, and by the time you’re at the door, you’re straightening out your shirt and trying to make sure the collar buttons don’t catch on your throat bandage.
“Hey,” you greet, “How’d it go, did you have fun? Or, well -” You laugh, sheepish. “- Was it at least not bad?”
It's been slow lately and you're sooo bored. It's too cold for flowers to (possibly) sprout on the few undead you manage to find near your hive and since the holidays are over people aren't asking you for armfuls of festive plants for their parties. It's too early for matesprit's day requests to flood your inbox too. You'd go into town, but there's nothing interesting to do there either! Just window shop and kick around in the slush. Yeah, that’s gonna get a hard pass.
You roll over on the couch, propping your foot up on the armrest. Taz hasn't been online for a couple nights and you haven't seen her at the shop (not that you've been looking..!) and you're pretty sure you could chat up Mandra - but you're not sure if you should just yet.
Your phone lights up and you open it right away, hoping it was someone wanting to talk or maybe even hang out! Seems like you got your hopes up for nothing, it was just a notification from a thread you've been following. It wasn't even an interesting reply, just a "masterpost" of seasonal plants.
It's better than nothing though, and you skim the list before heading back to the main forum to look for a more interesting thread.
I decided I’m nicknaming them together ‘military history’
And oh, poor Atlas
The world's a beast of a burden
You've been holding on a long time
And all this longing
And the ships are left to rust
That's what the water gave us
I love friendships and I especially love how much Maidel likes Pheres because it’s dang adorable that’s why D:<
Maidel thinks Pheres is really cool and smart! He’s pretty and he dresses in really interesting ways and he has Kabiir and he gave her a job, plus he knows cool people like Sipara and Kit. He’s done a lot for her personally and he’s her boss, obvs, but she also genuinely respects him for how he is in general and thinks he works very hard.
The nobility calls it Highfog, but you prefer the lowblood name - Derevnya.
There are highbloods enough that you don’t stick out, making your way through the steamy water-streets. It’s going to ruin your hair, but your dreadlocks and braid will keep at least through the time this should take. You don’t envision being here too long. You’ll stay if you have to - as long as you have to - until you accomplish your task, but you doubt it will actually require a great deal of effort on your part.
Most things don’t. Not as you measure it.
Your blue shoes are nice, with a slight heel, but only an inch - you always need to be able to run if necessary. Looking nice is important; getting away is more so. In light of that - of knowing there’s a small but potential risk of dealing with a troll who has a high chance of having psi, possibly dangerous psi - you’re also eschewing your beloved skirts for a pair of sleek but serviceable black pants. Your blue vest and short-sleeved white dress shirt are nothing particularly elaborate, but nice. You look more masculine than you’d like, though it’s such a minor problem when you’re so close to the last thing you need.
You reach the shop where you know she works, overseen by a pair of rusts. You admittedly don’t know much about them, besides their names; a shame, really, but they have no reason to be opposed to you, either. You intentionally didn’t try to dig too deep; it doesn’t do to make a troll feel uncomfortable by them thinking you know too much about them.
Besides, Maidel doesn’t remember you.
You reach the shop and open its door, walking in. The troll at the counter isn’t much taller than you, though the double horns and mane of ringlets almost make them appear so.
Your greenblood isn’t in sight, but that’s fine. You need to talk to this one anyway. You walk past the displays, giving them admiring looks - it never hurts to let a troll think you’re impressed by their wares, and the prosthetics and artifacts are a bit interesting. Erikaa might like one of the former, and you’ll gladly buy something to endear yourself anyway.
“Good evening.” You say, your voice always deeper than you’d like, but you tired of trying to pitch it higher - too much of a strain. “Are you one of this shop’s owners?” You ask, polite as you stop a few feet from the counter, posture straight but arms loosely at your side. Interested, but relaxed.
> Emerel: If found, please return to Pheres Dysseu.
[In which, after Emerel’s fight with a psionic rustblood called Hadean and subsequent death, reanimation, and reveal as a rainbowdrinker, Pheres comes back to his van to find out that the still-injured Emerel is now missing from his blood-stained resting place and calls Kit to freak out just a little bit about all of the above.
Kit is distressed, Pheres is upset, and Emerel is off mauling Hadean’s shoulder.]
Kit (CC) belongs to me, and Pheres (RS) belongs to @refiningspacetime!
--refiningSpacetime [RS] is now messaging cerebralCottontail! [CC]--
RS: / kit /
RS: / please tell me that your online /
RS: / you are /
CC: !!!
CC: Yes, I definitely am!
CC: What's wro=ng? / (´･×･`)＼
CC: Are yo=u do=ing o=kay??
RS: / no / RS: / i am not /
CC: What's happening??CC: And is there anything I can do= to= help? CC: Are yo=u still at the faire? / (´･×･`)＼
RS: / emerel is sick and he is gone and i don't know where he is / and sipara is off gallivanting with the person who hurt him / and i don't know where emerel is /
RS: / and there is blood on my reclination platform / and /
RS: / i wish i wasn't /
RS: / i don't know where he is and he left his phone and he is sick /
CC: O=h, jeez.
CC: O=h, jeeeeez!
CC: O=kay, um!
CC: What co=lo=r blo=o=d is it? ... Is there a trail yo=u can fo=llo=w? Yo=u can pro=bably ask aro=und o=utside if peo=ple have seen him!
CC: Jadeblo=o=ds aren't co=mmo=n at all so= I'm sure everybo=dy that saw him to=o=k no=te, especially if he lo=o=ked ill!
CC: Do=n't wo=rry, Pheres, he's go=ing to= be abso=lutely fine! And then yo=u can yell at him fo=r leaving witho=ut telling yo=u, because that was a really jerk mo=ve!
CC: But fo=r no=w yo=u can find him just fine and there's no= need to= start wo=rrying to=o= much!
CC: Besides, he's a really sturdy guy - if he's up and abo=ut, he's pro=bably do=ing so=mething silly like trying to= get so=me pro=per fo=o=d to= put in yo=ur co=ldbo=x!
CC: But maybe sit do=wn and take a breather first until yo=u are feeling a little bit better so= yo=u do=n't get yo=urself into= any tro=uble, either! / (´･×･`)\
RS: / it's his. he was bleeding and he isn't. /
RS: / i don't expect he has enough blood to leave a trail. /
RS: / he isn't now. that is. he isn't bleeding now. /
CC: O=f co=urse he has eno=ugh in him to= leave a trail, but the fact that he isn't is a go=o=d thing! It means he's no=t bleeding that much, so= whatever injury was making that can't be to=o= serio=us!
CC: Where are yo=u? Are yo=u still in yo=ur van?
RS: / that isn't what i meant /
RS: / oh / i don't know how to explain. /
RS: / i'm sorry. i shouldn't have messaged you, i think.
CC: And it's o=kay if yo=u do=n't kno=w ho=w to= explain! We can wo=rk thro=ugh things!
CC: Yo=u seem really upset, and I wo=uld much rather yo=u have messaged me than just been alo=ne. ／(=⌒x⌒=)＼
RS: / alright / hold no / RS: / i'm calling /
PHERES
Everywhere you look, there's reminders of Emerel. The blood on your floor. The blood on your bed. The food on the table, his phone on the stove.. you've even got his clothes in the closet. His coat is on your passenger's seat, for fuck's sake.
But you can't go outside. So you pace instead, bare feet on the tile, as you wait for Kit to pick up. "-- Kit?" you say, as soon as the ringing stops, and then you wince. You sound horrible.
KIT
"Pheres!"
You very nearly exclaim his name into the phone instead of saying it like a normal person, and promptly press back into your couch as though Pheres can see you bunching up apologetically
"Pheres," you say again, less urgent, "- Hi!"
PHERES
".. hello," you say, and stop pacing, folding your arms around yourself instead. He's worried. You've gone and worried him.
... You can't bring yourself to care. At least he's talking to you, unlike Sipara. "It's - he's -" You pause, take an unsteady breath. "I - it's his blood. I told you, he's.. sick."
KIT
"What kind of sick makes you bleed?" you ask when you've managed to extract your teeth from your bottom lip. Pheres sounds awful. "I thought - I thought he was just injured? That is - I mean, not 'just,' but - you know!"
You're stumbling all over your words and you pause in your rambling to take a breath. When you start talking again, it's notably calmer.
"Even if it is his blood and he's sick," you reason, "He had enough energy to get up and walk out! So he's doing fine, Pheres, and he'll be alright - you should look for him in a bit so that he doesn't stay out for too long, but if he was really in trouble then he wouldn't have been able to leave in the first place!"
PHERES
"No, the blood is from -" You take another breath, try for steady. "He got hit. In the face. And then he - I - oh!"
It doesn't work. "Kit. Kit, I don't know what to say," you burst out, voice clogging, and you hate it, almost as much as you hate everything else right now. "I don't - why did he leave? He's sick, and I thought he was dead, and he can't - he's not - he can barely talk, he's not supposed to leave!"
KIT
"And then-?" you start, and then shake your head at yourself, "Wait, no, um - oh, Pheres-"
You've never heard him this upset before! And you've called Proper so many times, you feel like you should remember how they do this.
"Shhh," you say gently, "Shh, Pheres, it'll be fine. Don't worry about having to say thing! And - hey, if Em left, he left because he knew he could. Maybe he was hungry, or wanted some fresh air, but if he was that badly off, he wouldn't have left in the first place, right? So if he can, he's doing okay! And he'll be back soon."
"- And then we can tell him he should have said something instead of leaving," you add, trying to inject at least a little bit of humor into your tone, "He shouldn't have scared you so badly!"
PHERES
"Oh." Hungry, Kit says, and - how long was he in the cart, staring at the walls? "He - hungry. Right. Why didn't I think of that? He's - it's not like he'd tell me, is it? That'd -"
You fold your arms, hugging your shoulders. "It'll be fine. I'm fine," you repeat, wetting your lips, and then sinking your teeth into the bottom one. Calm. "He'll be back. I'm being silly. And -" You try to laugh. It comes out as more of a sad snuffle. "I don't think he cares about scaring me," you say. It's not fair how savage you sound. It's not fair at all, but anger is better than tears, and right now, you don't care.
KIT
"... Why wouldn't he care about scaring you? About telling you that he's hungry?" you ask. Pheres's voice sounds wet, and you are trying very hard to keep yours steady. "Did something happen? You - you've been looking after him this whole time, haven't you? Did something happen?"
"- And of course you'll be fine!" you add, "Both of you will be! You're not feeling great now, and neither is he, but it's going to be better sooner rather than later, and - we can go out and get ice cream when you guys come back, or something. Or I might be coming over, actually, if you stay much longer? I took a night off to visit but I wasn't sure if it'll be when you guys are back yet."
PHERES
How much do you want to actually tell Kit? How much of it are you allowed to tell Kit? Emerel hadn't told you, for heaven's sake. Not after all of his talk about you needing to trust him. Not after all of the times you'd defended your cinema to him, making a proper idiot of yourself. Not before he'd fought, or before he'd died, and - and -
He still hasn't said a word to you, even after you saw him glow.
There's warmth on your face, and a lump in your chest. Instead of words, all that comes out is a reedy whine.
You take another breath. (You're embarrassing yourself right now.) "-- yes. Something happened.”
KIT
Pheres whines quietly before it cuts off into a shaky sigh, and the sounds drags a pitiful chirp out of you before you can decide if you want to make it or not. Something in your chest feels like it's going to twist in on itself, and you press a hand to it nervously. More importantly, you gently shoosh Pheres again, and wonder how reasonable it would be to grab your keys and just... go, right now.
"Oh," you say, "I wish I was with you guys, Pher. What - what happened?”
PHERES
Can you tell Kit?
Oh, fuck it. Emerel's privacy is not your concern right now, not really: he never told you, not after six perigees, not after you've been sleeping with him, after he's bitten you.. something in your stomach twists at the thought, and you scrub at your shoulder, pulling in on yourself. He's bitten you.
If you weren't crying, you might puke. "He died," you burst out, then bury your face in your shirt. Your next words come out muffled, but maybe he can still hear them. "He died, and I watched him, and I know he did, I watched him, and now - now - he's fine. He's not fine. He's moving."
KIT
Oh. Oh, Empress. You wince, even just listening, and are right back to pulling at your bottom lip with a fang. You're going to end up bleeding at this rate. You're not even sure if you said the Empress thing out loud or not.
"He died?" you ask, and your voice cracks appallingly over the word before you press your free hand over your mouth and reign yourself under control. He died. Emerel died, and - and Pheres said he was fine, you thought he was fine, you didn't realize - you didn't know - and you've been awful about it this entire conversation, then, too, because you'd been assuming that everything was okay with them, physically, and meanwhile Pheres has been dealing with something so much more.
You let the hiccup that wants to bubble up catch in your palm before Pheres can hear it, and then slide your hand up to tangle in your hair, pulling on it until you're slightly more put-together. And, until you can trust your voice again, you just shoosh Pheres once more, quietly.
"What do you mean?" you ask, and then try again when it comes out entirely toneless. Oops. Not the kind of control you're looking for right now. "I mean - I mean, I don't know how it works, really, but - does that mean he's okay now? How did he - die?"
PHERES
Kit's voice cracks, and you're well aware of how selfish you're being in telling him this. You really shouldn't be sharing this. He's got so much going on in his life right now, and all you're doing is adding to it. But for all that it's selfish, the realization doesn't stop you from wanting his comfort.
All that it's doing, really, is making you wish he was here. You wrap your arms around your shoulders, finally pausing in your pacing to slump against the wall.
"I don't know," you say, wretched. He sounds flat only for a moment, then he's back to earnest fear. "He got knocked out in the fight. Sipara mended him, and we took him to the cart to rest, and then he - he stopped breathing, and then -" Your breath comes out all at once in a long, shaky exhale. "You're going to think I'm mad." It's not a question. It feels like it's been ages since Emerel woke up, and you're still not sure if you believe it.
KIT
When Pheres speaks again, the words drag coarsely on the way out, and you fumble with remembering how that part of your larynx works (remembering how to stop being so self-centered that you're freaking out now of all times, when your breath hitches in your chest as you imagine Emerel's stopping) to chirp at him sympathetically. You kind of like that he makes those kinds of sounds - and it lets you make them back, which feels personal.
"I won't think you're mad," you reassure him, latching onto the opportunity to say something you can promise with certainty. "Really, it's not like it could be crazier than the rainbowdrinker thing - and, and it's probably part of that, I'd bet!"
PHERES
Kit chirps at you, soft and sympathetic, but his breath hitches in the middle of it, dragging the sound out into what's almost a trill. It's not the sort of sympathy you were expecting! It's not the sort of thing you'd ever expect to hear over the phone, tinny and distant, and the sort of odd vulnerability amplified by the fact anyone could overhear. Of course, there's no one in the van to hear, except for you, and Kit..
.. who's making a fool of himself for your sake. The laugh isn't intentional, but it feels like it takes some of your tension with it when it escapes. Your legs fold under you as you allow yourself to slide to the ground, then you curl up, drawing your knees to your chest, and trill back into the phone.
It's a little hiccupy. But no worse than his chirp. "Empress. I - thank you. I don't have the faintest idea," you say, a little thick, "what I did before you."
And then his words actually process, and you nearly drop the phone. "- what did you just say?"
KIT
Pheres laughs, trilling back at you like you're the one making wiggler noises this time, and you don't even care that you are. You slide sideways down the back of the couch and pull your legs up, turning your face so you can grin into one of the cushions with relief.
Pheres thanks you, and this time when you talk, the chirr rasping your vowels under your breath is entirely unintentional. You kind of wish you could save his words in a sound clip to keep forever.
"Oh, I - you'd be doing great, Pheres," you insist, "Don't sound like that - you just need a little - oh." Oh, that tone took an entirely different turn. You shove yourself upright with one arm, wincing as your bad shoulder twinges at the awkward angle, and bite your lip as you listen.
"I, um-" Maybe he doesn't like hearing about that? Or you said it insensitively? "I'm sorry. - I just meant, you know, all the stories say, about how you can't really kill rainbowdrinkers - but this isn't a story and - that was dumb, sorry."
PHERES
Isn't it amazing, how quickly your mood changes?
It's not that you're upset, precisely. You're just not entirely sure you're hearing him correctly. Kit's voice is hesitant, like he's considering each word. but not in the way you're used to, when he's trying to pitch a joke. It's like he's trying to contemplate phrasing. And.. why would he ever joke, at a time like this?
He'd been chirring, a raspy sort of sound that was sinking into your bones, but it's faded to almost nothing. Your curl up around the phone as best as you can, nestling it closer to your ear until you can't hear your pulse pounding: all you can hear is Kit, cautious and worried, but still Kit.
Even if you don't understand. "How do -" Your voice's gotten worse, and you hiss, curling up tighter. Weeping feels like you're giving in. You don't cry, anymore than you rage. You're above this. "Did he tell you that?"
KIT
"Oh - oh!" Pheres hisses, and you flinch. He sounds - scared, maybe, and that's the exact opposite of what you're trying to achieve. Of course Pheres is worried that you know about that - you're just a friend, and you all have barely met a few months ago. "Oh, no, it's okay, I wouldn't tell anybody or anything, don't worry - that's just how we met! When he and I - um - sorry -"
There is absolutely no delicate way to put it, and you can feel your face getting hot already. You curl down and press your forehead to your knees, tugging at an earring. "- You know. And, um, I think he originally just - wanted to - you know, do the thing like in the movies where the rainbowdrinker seduces someone and drinks from them, except we kinda made friends a little bit, and also I figured it out because - I mean, when you're blue and someone's green and they're still cold and also kind of biting you - and there was Luisan before, too, so it's not like it's the first time - er, that the rainbowdrinker thing happened, I mean, I didn't sleep with Mx Luisan."
You are digging this hole deeper and deeper, and it's time to pause and take a breath before you start constructing the Troll Taj Mahal.
"And - yeah," you flounder to finish, "So it wasn't, like - he didn't really tell me, I guess? And I wouldn't tell anybody, either! He asked me not to, Pheres, please don't worry."
You're still stuck, mentally, on Emerel dying - but it would be inconsiderate to change the subject on Pheres, so you'll wait. It'll come around eventually, just... hopefully before you bloody your own lip.
PHERES
What is he even saying?
You want to fold in closer to yourself. You want to slice open your skin and climb into it, fold yourself smaller and smaller until there's nothing exposed, nothing for anyone to see. Instead, you pull your knees so tight that they hit strike your teeth, leaving your mouth aching hard enough that it could distract you from the gentle stream of Kit's words.
It doesn't, though. His voice's going faster and faster, each sentence tumbling past his lips like a stone on the slope. He's getting frantic. Teary? It's hard to tell over the phone, with the electronic noise in the background, and your own uneven breath echoing too loudly in the van. You should tell him to stop, but you can't, because everything he's saying makes a dreadful sort of sense. Part of you takes the fact that Emerel told Kit first and pulls it in like a thorn against your heart.
The rest of you is focusing on the fact Emerel slept with Kit to feed on him, like he's some sort of common chattel. Not because he's Meukit - brilliant, agile, charming and pretty enough in his lean, flop-earred sort of way - but because he needed a meal. Is it a wonder he hadn't thought it was cheating? It was a transaction, like you and one of your customers. It wasn't...
It's not fair. And... "Luisan? They're - are you sure?" That doesn't make any sense. "They dress like one," you say, muffled, because your face is buried in your knees, "but that doesn't mean -"
KIT
Pheres trails off, breath hitching, and you worry at your lip until you finally prick through the skin and blood starts beading up.
"- Drat," you hiss at yourself, scrubbing at it with the fleshy part of your palm. Cerulean smears across it, bright and oxygenated. "- Er - not you, I just - nevermind, it's not important. I - I mean, I'm... if they weren't, I mean, I don't think they're the sort to make such a big joke out of it, especially not when they - I mean, when I said it wasn't the first time, I mean - in terms of actually drinking?"
The sentence ends like you're asking a question, and you're not sure what you're supposed to be saying. The longer you go, the more upset it sounds like you're making Pheres, and the further away from the topic of Emerel you get.
Still, though, you figure it's best to focus on the important things. "- Are you okay?" you ask, "You sound - I mean, is there anything I can... explain better, to help you feel better?"
PHERES
You've got to pull yourself together. For Kit's sake. It isn't fair that Emerel's drinking from him, and it isn't fair that you're using him like some kind of affection dispensor, when he's hurting, too. For heaven's sake, he can barely keep his words together. I mean, he keeps saying, but you're not even sure he knows.
So you force yourself to take a shakey breath, lift your head and try to stretch. It doesn't do anything except jostle the phone with a burst of static. Oh, you think, you're doing wonderfully. "Shoosh," you murmur, forcing a purr into the sound for the both of you. "Shoosh. You don't have to explain it, Kit. It's - you're not -"
"I'm fine." Oh. It almost sounded truthful, when you said it like that. Your voice is still clogged, and there's still that faint quaver, but when you swallow hard, spite forces it down. Your next words are steadier. It doesn't matter how you feel, when you're upsetting Kit like this. Does it? "I'm - no. I'm. Just surprised, that's all. He - didn't tell me."
When your voice starts to shake, you sink your nails into your skin. The pain steadies it back, and with it, sparks a surge of aggravation. It isn't Emerel's fault that you're prone to this - this immaturity, but it is his fault that you're cracking. Why did he leave the cart? He's sick. "He didn't tell me anything," you say, icy. It's better to be angry. "He - he still hasn't said anything at all."
KIT
You make some sort of quiet, embarrassed sound, when Pheres shooshes you, and then you laugh - it comes a little bit high, but hopefully it just sounds tinny over the phone. "Oh - oh, sorry - and thank you, I - sorry, I think I wound myself up a little bit."
You let the breath whoosh out of you, and scrub your hand through your hair, mussing your bangs even further. Belatedly, you realize you've probably smeared blood into them, too. You're a little bit of a mess right now, but - does it matter, really? Nobody's here to see you, and the important thing is talking to Pheres and making sure he and Emerel are going to be okay. And maybe you can just close your eyes and listen to the sound of Pheres's voice for a second or two.
"I think maybe you're not... really fine?" you ask, apologetic for contradicting him. "But that's okay, too. I mean - oh, jeez, I've said that word too many times. I mean," you press forward, "There's a lot that's upsetting going on right now, I think, and... I'm coming over, soon, I think, I took a night off, and maybe I can help out? And for now we can maybe talk some of it out. I didn't..."
You didn't think Em would not tell Pheres. The thought didn't even cross your mind, did not at any point register so much as an option, and you don't know how to respond to that. Why wouldn't he tell Pheres?
"- I didn't realize," you say, "But... I think he was trying to protect you. I mean - oops. I just mean, it's a great big mess now, isn't it, and the rainbowdrinker thing is part of it? And he didn't really pick a good way to go about it, but I think that's what he was trying to do."
PHERES
He exhales all at once, a gust of wind that sets your phone to buzzing, but you can't even mind. Not when it makes you breathe out to match, letting go a breath you didn't even realise you were holding. Kit calms you down without even doing anything, sometimes; just the sound of his breath is giving you something to match to, for all that it's still faster than it ought to be. He's wonderful like that.
More than wonderful. He's amazing, and lovely, and every single thing about him makes your pumpbiscuit skip a beat when you imagine it. So it's not right that it doesn't do the same for Emerel. You'd assumed he'd seen Meukit and felt the same absurd adoration you did. It only made sense. You'd never expected he was just.. just using him.
".. that sounds like Emerel, doesn't it?" He didn't even like you, at first. Maybe he didn't like Kit at the start, and he likes him well enough now - "If he was trying, he's very bad at it, Kit. Excessively. I thought he was - he stopped breathing, and I nearly took off his head, because I thought he was going to.." You're not going to let your words get away with you again. "Never mind what I thought."
"How are you? I'm sorry. I'm - I shouldn't have just dumped this on you, should I?"
KIT
"Really bad!" You want to laugh, to make it into a joke, but - then Pheres says he nearly cut off Emerel's head and your breath hitches. "I'm - I'm really, really sorry, Pheres. That's awful, and - and you didn't deserve to have to go through that. Or find out like that. He messed up. He meant well, but he messed up."
"And - no!" you blurt, shooting straight up, "No, I'm - really glad you told me! You guys have been gone a while, and things keep happening and I haven't really known anything about any of it, not really, and - I'm really, really glad you told me, Pheres. I was worried!"
You laugh, a little weakly. "I guess it was kind of silly of me, but - yeah. Does... that mean Em is okay? ... Physically, I mean," you correct, a little sheepish, "Outstanding apology for how this all turned out aside."
PHERES
".. oh. I didn't - I'm sorry. I suppose you haven't, had you?" You've never tried to keep Kit in the loop of things. It didn't make any sense, when it'd just serve as another source of stress. He's got enough of that already, between Leoffe and Gliese, and all of the horrid urchins he calls friends. Your job isn't to add to his stress: for all that you're not moirails, for all that you're not anything to him at all, you know that it's true. And it'd made sense at the time to downplay Hadean and Emerel's fight, and your spats with Emerel, and everything else that you knew, even then, he might've liked to know.
And when he actually says it, like that, anxious, tripping over his own words, all of the justifications suddenly feel flimsy. "I'll - I'll tell you, from now on," you promise. You haven't uncurled from your ball since the first time you slid to the floor, but now you force your legs out in front of you, ignoring the twinge of protest in the muscles. Had you really been holding yourself that taut? "It was unkind of me not to. I'm.. sorry. I'll do better."
"We'll do better." Keeping your ire at Emerel is fine, when the alternative is dealing with the tears you can feel in the back of your throat. "And - he's fine. He.. wasn't, for awhile, but he was up and walking yesterday, and.. well, I suppose he's perfectly hale now, if he's off, walking around." Your cart is always kept locked, and no one save you's big enough to slip through the gunnery, even if they got past the doors. So if the words are a little bitter, that doesn't matter. It's true. He had to have let himself out.
KIT
If the admission that Pheres didn't want to tell you all this in the first place made you jump, the self-deprecatory note his tone takes after you get overzealous has you wilting.
"Hey," you say, softer, "Hey, no, it's okay, really. You haven't done anything wrong - I like hearing about you guys, but you've had so much going on. It's not your fault that you've been busy - and you've been trying to deal with a lot! Em died."
Saying so still makes something twinge inside of you, small and scared, and you take a shaky breath. "I'm just glad you had the chance now," you tell Pheres, "And that - talking maybe helped, even a little bit. Hey - see, you're not panicking anymore! Because Emerel is fine, if he's up and about, he's just gone off because he's hungry."
Pheres sounds like he's just added you to his list of things to worry over, and you absolutely refuse. Not right now, of all times, when Em died and Pheres found out he's a vampire and you're not even around.
PHERES
"There's no excuse, Kit." If you think too hard about this, you'll slip right back into feeling horrid. And Kit sounds so soft, like you're some animal he's gentling. Neither of you can afford your usual waffling, so you steel your voice, even as you keep it at a pitch that you hope is soothing. "I - if I don't appreciate people just.. leaving things out, why should you? It isn't as if we haven't spoken since then. I.. am very fond of you. It's not fair if I don't.."
You exhale. ".. if I don't act like it," you say, steadier, because the way Kit's breath keeps catching is echoing in your head. "And.. thank you. Ah. I do feel better." You can feel the panic sitting at the edge of your awareness, waiting for the opportunity to rise back up, but you can't afford to think about it. And it'll make Kit feel so much more useful, if you can just keep calm.
"Thank you." Saying it again feels important. As does standing up. Being curled into a ball is for pupa's and wrigglers, and you're neither. And each click of your soles on the metal floor gives you something else to focus on.
KIT
You've managed to keep your fangs out of your lip for long enough that the cut you'd made earlier is clotting despite your inability to resist licking the blood away. It would be bad it you bothered it open again.
"I - thank you, then," you settle on, "I just - I really don't want you to feel bad? It's not like you did anything bad to me. And... I dunno," you mumble, "You always put in so much effort into making sure I'm okay. It seems dumb that you of all people should feel bad about it."
"Besides!" you perk up slightly, "I'll be there to visit you and Emerel in a bit, right? And I can help out taking care of him, too - I talked to him a little, and he seemed pretty shaken! And he's fine now, but it'll be nice to have more people around, too."
The way Pheres thanks you, it feels like something meaningful has happened - you mostly hope it's not something negative, and that nothing else will go wrong before you get there.
... Honestly, you really just kind of want to go hug Pheres, but even if you could, that wouldn't exactly make all his problems go away.
PHERES
There are bits you still don't want to tell Kit. He doesn't need to know any of the more distressing facts of the past few days, like how long it'd taken you to nudge Emerel to sit up and drink water, never mind shower or even speak to you. He doesn't need to know that Emerel harassed Hadean when you were trying to mend him, or the near-fight that occurred. He doesn't need to know your worries over the fact maybe you should've just culled Emerel, back when he'd first woken up, and solved this drinker problem entirely.
All of those would just upset him. But when he says he'll come and visit, it reminds you that he deserves to know. Just.. not right now. Not quite yet.
"You're very sweet," you say, pacing. You rake a hand through your curls, tugging them straight, and the sproing of them snapping back into place - looser, yes, but still there - is very close to calming. "You don't have to come to help. Ah.. we'd love to have you there, just to be there. We ought to say it more."
[After Widsth ducks out near the end of the last post to fight his attackers one-on-one, Emerel and Hadean get pitch-flirty again and Ullane calls them on it, and then is dragged for being a wingtroll who doesn’t have any quadrants. Sielan and Pheres (re)enter the chat to put their two cents in, which leads to the following:]
MN: hEy .PHERES. arE you any closEr to cascara than .I. am by any chance
PP: It certainly sounds pitch
RS: | A Little | Why | ? |
MN: orphEo is gEtting his ass kickEd in a dumpstEr and .I. told him .I.d comE scrapE him off thE walls
RS: | | What |
MN: but hEs likE 20 milEs from the city
ID: don't worry, he's dueling them in the dumpster now.
RS: | Where | ? | Wait | No | I'll Look on the Book of Faces | Brb |
ID: i'm sure it's going well for him.
MN: is hE liVEstrEaming this from thE facEbook
MN: .I.m trying to hElp but hE thrEw tomatoEs at thEm
IT: I am a little busy to be livesreaaming!!!!!!
IT: The good thing about historians is that they respeCt the ruls of the duel;
IT: howver, the BAD thing about THESE historians in partiCular is that
IT: they are Called legion
IT: (for they are many)
RS: | He is Not | ! | But | People are Discussing the Trash Teal | Haha | which is More Useful | =:) |
RS: | Ah | Do You need Retrieval | Orpheo | ? |
RS: | Or | Are You having Fun | ? | ? |
MN: .I.VE got about another 10 milEs to go
IT: I am relatively Confident in my ability to forge my way through the rest of this paCk, or at least enough of them that the rest grow weary of trying
IT: However
IT: Ahem, however, I may require retrieval in the aftermath
MN: what do you think wErE trying to do bEan dip
IT: My attention is a tad divided at the present moment!
ID: hahah wow what a mess. does this happen a lot.
MN: okay .I.m almost on ironcold finally
MN: arE you still in thE dumpstEr
IT: I am defending it against all C
IT: Comers
IT: I imagine we are making quite a lot of noise, thou mayst follow the Commotion
MN: holy shit yEah
MN: .I. can hEar it from hErE
ID: so people who aren't off rescuing the tealblood from his own stupidity.
ID: what are you doing?
MN: okay .I.m likE right thErE
MN: brb guys
ID: ughhh everyone is gone aren't they. =:I
[An interval, in which some chatting is done. Meanwhile, in Ironcold Lane, Emerel drags Widsth bodily out of the fight and attempts to smooth things over. Widsth proceeds to shout inflammatory comments at the historians until Emerel clocks him with his own staff. Pheres sits on the sidelines and takes bets with the historians about whether Emerel and Widsth will pap. Eventually, he checks in:]
RS: | Good News | ! | No One is Dead | Bad News | I have Lost Forty Caegars on a Bet with One of the Historians | on the Duration of the Fight | And Shipping |
RS: | Do not Take a Train | Honestly | Hadean | =:1 |
PP: Sad to see you lose RS, better luck next time
[the discussion moves on. ID says Sipara (AA) will support his fight with MN. About 45 minutes later:]
MN: .I.m back and .I. hit orphEo with his stick
MN: and thE fight got mEssy becausE .HE CANT KEEP HIS GODDAMN MOUTH SHUT.
ID: aww sounds so pathetic. poor you.
MN: why do you think hE got hit with his own wEapon by .ME.
ID: because. <>?
RS: | Here You Are | =:| |
RS: | She will Not Support You | But I think I should Go Make Sure Orpheo is Not Bleeding | Anyway |
AA: suuuuuup.
AA: wait, omfg, why arne we talking abt a fight??
AA: .. wait, who the fuck is ornpheo??
AA: >:{
MN: bEcausE hE is stupid and dEsErVEs to suffEr
[The conversation moves on, but that’s about it! Except for this snippet from later:]
RS: | Heels are Fine | RS: | If Orpheo was Wearing Heels | Perhaps People would be Less Likely to Shove Him in a Trashcan |
