This was no calm before the storm, no moment of respite before the next wave hit, no appetizer for a feast much grander than anything their feeble minds could comprehend. Ros was well aware that they were already surging toward the eye of the storm, slowly reaching for it and as they reached it, the carnage around them couldn’t reach them, not yet, not like this, but it would turn on them, change direction, ensnare them and trap them in its bowels. What a tepid, unexciting answer for their predicament. “We could go grab your stuff and dip. For now.”, Ros suggested, not out of the blue but out of necessity. Wherever they went, Abaddons goons would surely find them, sniff them out and try, both behind closed doors and behind closed doors. He had no friends he could turn to, but family, on a plane of existence much different than this one, or even the one humans toiled away on. Ijiraqs were assholes, weren’t they? In their high ivory towers, with their diets consisting of the least fortunate of all - yet, those that fled from their nature, their birthright, loved nothing if not complaining. Ros did. Yearned for something beyond the usual. Behind the rosy curtain made of skin and bone, soaking wet and dripping with blood.
“You’re fine to walk?”, he questioned Nate. Ros would never offer it himself, not now, not when he knew just how overbearing he could be at times like these, but he’d carry him, one way or another. Still, even then, he was babying him once more, like a mother hen that just couldn’t stop doing what she knew best. “You’re not dying on me, are you?” Being zapped of magic sounded vile, but to him, it wasn’t like it mattered - he’d lost magic he didn’t need in the first place and the ‘magic’ he used to even appear like this, to have the slight semblance of a human body, of flesh and bone, still worked even as his wounds barely healed. This, too, somehow hurt, but converging with his actual self was counterproductive - the damage would be far too grand beyond this body. “Nate, you sound so reasonable it’s unreasonable.”, he pointed out as he handed the mage the spare coat, knowing it’d fit - if anything, Ros was as good as any partner to have. All his clothes had fit Nate before and they did the same now, as he barely had to change much about his measurements for this face. How many of his not-selves had his not-lover seen? Far too many. “Hm?” Presented with the artifact, he scoffed. “And you’re sure I’ll keep it safe? Good grief, you really aren’t doing good.” Not even a nasty remark followed, or a reminder that he was much more dutybound than he let on. Roscoe pocketed the artifact for now. As he reminisced about the past, Ros grabbed his bag off the hook, then veered into the bedroom, stuffing some things into said bag. Just some things, really. Afterward, he made his way back to Nate, nodding at him. “Ready if you are?” Hungry, too, but that would be too much of a risk for a few reasons.
“You’re fine to walk?”, he questioned Nate. Ros would never offer it himself, not now, not when he knew just how overbearing he could be at times like these, but he’d carry him, one way or another. Still, even then, he was babying him once more, like a mother hen that just couldn’t stop doing what she knew best. “You’re not dying on me, are you?” Being zapped of magic sounded vile, but to him, it wasn’t like it mattered - he’d lost magic he didn’t need in the first place and the ‘magic’ he used to even appear like this, to have the slight semblance of a human body, of flesh and bone, still worked even as his wounds barely healed. This, too, somehow hurt, but converging with his actual self was counterproductive - the damage would be far too grand beyond this body. “Nate, you sound so reasonable it’s unreasonable.”, he pointed out as he handed the mage the spare coat, knowing it’d fit - if anything, Ros was as good as any partner to have. All his clothes had fit Nate before and they did the same now, as he barely had to change much about his measurements for this face. How many of his not-selves had his not-lover seen? Far too many. “Hm?” Presented with the artifact, he scoffed. “And you’re sure I’ll keep it safe? Good grief, you really aren’t doing good.” Not even a nasty remark followed, or a reminder that he was much more dutybound than he let on. Roscoe pocketed the artifact for now. As he reminisced about the past, Ros grabbed his bag off the hook, then veered into the bedroom, stuffing some things into said bag. Just some things, really. Afterward, he made his way back to Nate, nodding at him. “Ready if you are?” Hungry, too, but that would be too much of a risk for a few reasons.
Looking back, it maybe is like the toy carts you rode when you were a kid. But those toy carts could never go beyond the walls of the lawn. We want to follow the rugged concrete road beyond the wall. As we've grown, we've decided to leave behind the toy cart.
