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 Posted: Mon Sep 04, 2023 10:20 am
"Save that bone, then." If Albite wanted a pair of earrings for services rendered? Fine, Faustite could pencil in time to sit at his desk and etch s**t into a porous surface like that. Ink it up, seal it, send it off to the boy to be worn and mucked up in all the fights he so liked to start. It would please him, and that delight was a pure and simple thing to provoke and encourage.
He did, however, laugh unexpectedly at Albite's remarks about himself. They ever caught the boy off-guard, and the self-awareness was biting. But Faustite couldn't contend with it, so he kept silent.
It reminded him of the day that Celadonite christened him a himbo, and Faustite was certain that was a permanent loss of face when he busted up in front of the Hall of Shadows. Or was it the Rift itself? It had been so long, now, that he wasn't sure anymore. It had stuck with him as well as the label stuck with Albite, though Faustite wondered if that brutal bit of honestly had hurt his boy any. Probably not, for how adamant he was that his skull was as thick as his a**.
Faustite flinched for hearing the call of that magic — he distinctly remembered saying carried, not trussed and dragged, and if Albite thought he was getting earrings for dressing Faustite up like a prisoner —
But the bonds hadn't come for him. He let out his breath when he realized they wrapped about his weapon, though Albite needn't worry about carrying that, too.
His questions were heard, but Faustite waited on answering them until he got his wincing and groaning out of the way for getting hoisted up into a carry. Smarting process, but far gentler than having to move his hip all that much to get himself up stairs. Less messy, too, if he wasn't continually reopening the wound. The downside was Albite would be wearing all that black over his greens, and he'd reek of all that heavy copper and burnt gunpowder.
It was easier, he decided, to start with the punch. "Was looking through the library," he began, voice strained, "Wanted to find something about that blade. How to use it, what to do with it, what it was made for. Thought that, of anywhere, the Negaverse would have texts on combat training. Found some scroll that fell out from between the pages of a book I found and it talked about manipulating fire. Took some reimagining — rather do it with myself than with a weapon — but I got that far with it. Not bad," he evaluated as he flexed the hand that punched a molar out of Albite's face. Winced for the pain he still felt in his knuckles, but it seemed impressive.
"Fire's something else, though." Faustite's attention scanned out to the corners of the Rift where youma still gathered and grew. So many odd eyes were looking back at them, tracking them, trying to puzzle them out. "Don't know what happened there. Was never like that before, not even after my promotion."
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Posted: Mon Sep 04, 2023 2:26 pm
The remains of the bone quickly stored away with his mess of other subspace scatterings, and for a while? Albite was happy just to trod along, to listen. Ever sympathetic to the pain laced and lanced through his boy's crackling voice, while being glad he had the will to voice anything at all. He’d take Eion hurt and talking over unconscious and silent anyday. Encouraged it all the more with curious hums and breaths of held quiet between words.
They were both going to need baths later, magical re-freshing outfits or not? Smells were a whole thing, and seepage dried a certain kind of peely, sticky, gunginess that took forever to scrub out once dried. Better to get it fresh—and even as the thoughts passed through Waru’s head, he didn’t fixate on them. Let them flow like a fresh stream. The bell kept his attention as easily as Faustite did; its light background noise a continued balm that doubled up as blinders to keep him from peering too hard after every eerie set of eyes that glowed in his direction. Eyes that were more than any beast should carry on a face, beasts that were one large eye, all eyes, no eyes, and something that could’ve been a potato? **********---
The rift was none of his business right now. Faustite was his business.
So he worked on taking the easier path, less jostling, muttered some eldritch sounding pidgin curse – a murder of Franglish and Baas – before attempting to surmount the stairs smooth, wide steps.
“Who would’ve thought? Scrolls–I didn’t even know we had a Library…and you figured all that out just from a note inna book? ********, that’s so cool! I think next time–we’ll try things more methodical like? Maybe use a Youma to help too? Some of those slackers back at the house could stand a reminder to stay on task. Probably need it the same as me, huh!” the steps gave way to the doors, the doors to the hall, Albite breathed easier for being within range of familiar territory and that much closer to home. <******** fire n’black flames. The blade wasn’t even too hot to touch once it was away from you, think it’s a coldfire thing? Oh, think Agni wanted to spare my entire a** from getting charred? Like it was instinct? Pfhh-can you imagine that…” Pealed laughter for how utterly unlikely that was, and his jaw only ached a little for the task of grinning. His every other ache a different sort of background noise that Albite could ignore for how suddenly he wanted to kiss Faustite; just because he could. He promised himself he’d get to it later!
Once they’d crossed the threshold of home—
Strickenized FIN!! But also? *to be continued*
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