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Thorne (Unmasked) | | 25/25 | | Talking

There was nothing to do but watch Chris's eyes flare and fade and fixate with those same feelings Thorne had tasted at the beginning of all of this. He let himself focus on every bright starburst of contact between the two of them. It tasted different than anything ever had before. It burned in a completely different light than Melany's patronizing touch or Shiloh's fingers on him, or a strangers, working beneath the Spinel Lady's orders.

It burned. Would he forget it? Thorne shuddered, pressed closer. I don't want to forget, the ghost whispered. But what did it matter what he wanted in the end?

"You would have been hurt," Thorne responded, his voice low and rough, "You would have died. Better this than - "

He cut off, not sure what to do with the rest of that claim. He tilted his head, considering, and for a moment, there was a flare in his expression. Familiar. Hot and molten, vicious. A dog biting at the edge of its chain.

"Better me than you," he said. And left it there.

But then Chris burned his own anger, and Thorne paused to watch him. Only him. His heart felt suffocated by the words, his chest aching with something like longing. Hope is a dangerous thing, someone had told him once. It has teeth. It will bite and bite and bite. Thorne exhaled, a sharp sound.

What can you do? he might have asked. What could you possibly do?

But he didn't want to go in circles. He didn't need to hear the desperate conviction again, empty in its approach. He wanted for a few, blind minutes to let Chris fill him with hope. The blond would be gone again in the morning. If not of his own accord - certainly by the laws of this Court. But for now -

Well, what harm was there in a dream?

A shudder rippled through his body, animal, when Chris placed his arms around him. He leaned heavier against the other, pressing himself into the warmth. Remember this, the ghost said.

"As you wish it," he echoed. "Shiloh is Melany's toy. Just as I am her dog. You won't get through to him." There was a shudder again, broken laughter. "He learned. He gave himself over. But I - "

Can't.

"Some dogs just cannot learn, as she says." His eyes fluttered open, closed again. "I don't know who Jamie is. But he is not part of this. Make him leave though. There is nowhere for this night to go but towards the path that's been set."

Another person came into the room and Thorne's flinch was visible, a ripple of violence against Chris.

"What do you want?" Thorne hissed without looking up, addressing the stranger with a voice on the edge of rising wariness, the slope of retreat. "There's nothing here. What now?"

[25/25 | LEILA]: is getting some major third wheel vibes rn

Upon being acknowledged by Chris, Leila gritted her teeth (in lieu of a more convincing smile) and gave a small, awkward wave before striding a yard or two closer to them and settling slowly down to her knees on the floor.

"I'm Leila. Townhome," she started, looking to Chris. "I teach at the university and do forensic entomology with the police. You might've seen my wife around, she's a... a moonwalker?" And Eve honestly might have been a better person to help de-escalate whatever it was had just happened here. She wished they'd come in here together. It was only a matter of time before she said something to make things worse, as it was an unbreakable habit of hers.

As it was, she kept on with a slow, airy tone of small talk hoping that the sense of normalcy that came from it would be grounding. "Thorne, hey. It's me, buddy. You look like dog s**t."

Chris Watts || 25/25 || Tryin to be helpful

Chris could only run his fingers through Thorne's hair, this time daring to go farther than just the base. Push his fingers through hair neater than he had seen in his memories, ruffling it a little bit, making it a little messier. A little closer to what he knew, to what his memories said.

"No, still," He said back, but it was gentle. Not a rebuff, just a statement of a fact. He'd repeat it a thousand times over if it meant Thorne would finally get it, would accept it as a truth.

He shivered slightly at the breath, but still found himself smiling at the laugh. It sounded almost like he had once, that one night. Fondness and something happy, maybe not whole but at least there. He couldn't help the fond smile he directed back at Thorne.

"You were. Are," He confirmed, still dragging his hand through Thorne's hair, playing with the strands. Idle motions to keep him busy, to keep him from thinking too hard. The moment itself was nice, Thorne was smiling once more and it was almost like they were back in his apartment. "You will, you know. The option isn't closed, I want to know more about you too. Maybe get you to bake me more stuff."

Chris flicked his eyes towards Lelia, finally widening in realization. "Oh, OH! I'm sorry I just. This place kind of messes with you, you know?" He laughed, a little bit high strung. "I'm Chris, education major. You might have seen me around, or maybe my adviser. Poe, kinda looks like he's close to crying? That's all me."

He rubbed a circle into Thorne's back with his other hand, hoping that he would take it to be comforting. Lelia wasn't going to harm, he knew.

elkbones

fite me

cibarium

he's trying to help i swear

Thorne (Unmasked) | | 25/25 | | Talkin talkin

Thorne hummed at Chris's response, a low sound that didn't tilt any certain way. With a slow, steady breath, he pulled the distance between them just enough so that he could look at Leila too. His head still bent into Chris's warm contact, pinpricks of starlight that fed his hungry black domain. For a long moment, he idled on the conversation between the two of them.

His eyes crinkled slightly, and the rasping noise of a chuckle felt strange and foreign in his throat.

"And I'm the one with the poor memory?" he couldn't help asking Chris wryly - and he wasn't sure, was it the ghost or him? He could feel the places where those dual sides of him connected, fusing incorrectly, trying desperately for a solid middle ground.

Was he the one resisting? He didn't understand anything.

"Maybe," he added. Because maybe was the same answer as hope. And hope was a dangerous, dangerous thing here, to be buried beneath Melany's frightful gaze. She had gouged it out of Shiloh completely. He loved her now because he had given up the concept of a world outside of her.

But Thorne had buried his deep with his ghost. A graveyard full of living things burned through his veins, deep in the hollow of his throat.

"No, it's fine," he said when Leila said she could leave. Every part of him felt rubbed raw. But the plants were a soothing whisper. Chris was a grounding force. He stared at Leila, his expression wild and unknowable. "I just - "

The words strangled him. This was his problem - after three months of barking on command, he had no idea how to speak anymore. He had always been better at communicating with his hands. A soft shrug ran through him, and his eyes dipped.

"I'm not what you expected, am I?"

[25/25 | LEILA]: trying to be a Good Friend

Leila took a breath and thought for a moment, as well as settling into a more comfortable (and less fashion disaster-prone) seating position. Waving aside Thorne's apparent worries about their first impression, she started, "Theres a little exercise Eve taught me. It's like... focus for a moment on each of your senses. Pick out something you can hear, something you can feel and something you can see. The point is to strenghten your grip on the present a little, alright? Remember to breathe, too."

Nodding to Chris, she suggested, "We can do it along with you for a bit. So you're not alone."

"Sure," Thorne huffed against Chris's chest, a low, exhausted laugh billowing from his throat, "Use that as your excuse, teacher." It was a strange, familiar weight to banter with the man. He'd turned out most of his conversation with the other woman, too busy breathing evenly (it was still a chore, one that he had to focus on), but teacher fluttered from his tongue like a strange noise. A nostalgic scent.

Teacher, teacher, the ghost had said once in a long-forgotten memory, hey, don't worry, it's me. Those papers can wait, they won't strangle you in your sleep.

Thorne closed his eyes. The ghost continued its route beneath his skin. He felt it trembling, causing a wake. A visceral image flashed in his mind of Shark Week and all those nature documentaries where the camera panned over a still stretch of ocean, only to zoom in on ripples and shadows in the water.

There, the ghost would have said once when he was nine, ten, it's dangerous!

He hummed in response to Leila, and slowly fell into a pattern of mapping them both in his mind. It didn't help much - but his throat eased and the panic stopped bubbling over. He was safe for the moment. Safe here, for now.

"Thank you," he said, to Leila, after a few minutes. His eyes fluttered.

He turned to look at Chris.

"And you," he sighed out, as the plants crept and the water whispered to the floor, "Try not to forget me with your terrible memory?"

When this is over, echoed softly in the air. Hopeful. Wondering. Wild.

Thorne didn't know where any of them would be at the end of the night. But did it matter? Did it?

[25/25 | LEILA]: leaving
"Nice going, buddy. You did good." Cheering on like a little league coach was helpful in this situation, right? Thorne looked a little more stable, at least, so she stood back up and gazed down at him for a moment, processing everything that had been going on. "You... really don't recognize me, huh? That's okay. I think I''ll give you some space now, but I'll be back to check on you later. Thanks for helping him out, Chris."