Welcome to Gaia! ::

As they walked towards the front door, Nero found himself staring thoughtfully at his bare feet. He had never bothered to get shoes, he only carried a bag filled with clothes. He hadn't bothered to change, either, yet he seemed unaffected by the layers of blood smeared along the fabric- as well as various parts of his legs and arms. He rubbed at his nose with a claw, shuffling along behind Bree, the sound of his tail dragging along the ground the only sound breaking the silence. He didn't have the energy nor the will to lift it and keep it upright. All he could think about was watching his father disapear on the stretcher. It played out over and over again in his mind. He should be safe, right? Right. He was going to the hospital. They would make him better there. Everything would get better, right?

But still he felt as if he would never see the man again, for some reason, and it was a suffocating sort of feeling.

Nero stopped momentarily upon entering this house- something that had once seemed so familiar, and yet now everything looked new and unfamiliar. Unfriendly. Scary. His head ducked slightly, and he folded his arms over his stomach, feeling his heart fluttering violently in his chest. He wanted to go home. And that's when he had to remind himself that right now he didn't have a home to return to. He looked up at her with his wide eyes, holding an innocence that somehow survived everything that had just happened. He thought he was smiling, even though trying the gesture made him feel sick, but his face was dead blank. "Th-th-thank y-y-y-y-you." His voice was harsh and rasped, and yet barely audible. He didn't move, however, and simply watched as the woman walked to the stairs and disappeared. Just as his father had. A shudder went through his entire body, and with that he trudged silently towards where he knew the bathroom to be.

Once inside, he found himself under the warm water of the shower. He couldn't remember undressing, or even getting in, but there he was. He closed his eyes, and then collapsed to his knees and rested his head against the ceramic of the tub. For the trillionth time that night, if he could cry he would. Instead, he just sat there, completely still, broken.

After awhile he stepped out, grabbing for the towel and drying himself off. He had been in for atleast an hour, motionless. He dressed himself into his pajamas, a pair of shorts and a wifebeater, and then towel dried his sopping hair. He stared into the mirror and tried a smile. Nothing. He stared down at the counter.

Even as the door burst open, Nero didn't turn from the mirror, continuing to stare at the reflection that was beginning to blur as a result of lack of blinking. After a moment, he turned his head slowly, large and rather empty eyes coming to fall on his friend. He let the towel drop from his hair and onto the sink, looking quite the mess himself- although in a different way from his friend. He had gone through some changes as well, albeit his were more on the opposite end of the spectrum. He had managed to grow perhaps an inch, although he was still a "shrimp", as his father would have put it, and his body had taken up a slightly more feminine look as he grew. These feminine changes mainly consisted of subtle curves and a more delicate seeming build. Unlike the other more effeminate D-corp male children like himself, he was still most obviously male- there was no mistaking. Nero had yet to even realize he wasn't as testosterone-filled as all the other teen boys.

So, he had gotten more "cute"- or was it, "pretty" in this case? Either way, now wasn't a good example of that. His hair was damp and mussed, fluffed up slightly from the drying. His entire body was trembling, just slightly, and looked as if it would cave in at any moment. His green skin seemed an entire shade paler, and his usual expressions of cheer or uncertainty were nowhere to be found. He just stared at his friend placidly, arms hanging limply at his side. There were a few spots of his rough skin that seemed a bit scuffed, as if he'd been roughed up, and then at his collar bone there was the knife wound. Well, it wasn't really a wound. It hadn't bled, after all. It was just where his armor had been split rather deeply, almost to the point of bleeding but not quite.

After a moment, his lips parted. The shaking grew more violent. He felt his world spin as everything hit him all at once for the hundredth time since the incident. It was all too much. His arms enclosed over his stomach, and he drew in a harsh breath. And then his knees began to give out.

The boy's knees buckled together slightly as he was caught, but he remained upright for a moment before he allowed himself to be lowered down. He felt overwhelmed with relief- it was too hard to stand. In his current state, he could even hold up his own weight- which really wasn't a good sign, as he didn't have much weight to carry. He stayed quiet for a moment, nibbling at his lower lip. His eyes lifted slowly from the floor, coming to focus on his friend's face once again. He felt a tug of concern himself at the other boy's condition, and perhaps if the situation were different he would question him about it- however, things weren't different, and his mind immediately went spiraling right back down the dark hole it came from.

"They shot him." The words tasted bitter as they came out, tangy, like blood itself. "They shot him and he went to the hospital.."
He hesitated, feeling something lurch in his stomach.
"He's dying."

The boy closed his eyes, feeling a wave of nausea flow over him as the memories were stirred from the back of his mind. "Uhnn..."

And then he was looking at the other boy placidly, all emotion drained from the scorpion's face, "They shot my father. He is dying. They broke into my house and shot my daddy." He felt bile building at the back of his throat, and made an attempt to swallow it down. Another series of the shakes went through his tiny frame, and he touched the knife-split on his chest with an extra leg gently. The man had stabbed him, but didn't have enough momentum to get through his tough skin. Got his father, didn't get him. His head fell slightly, and let out a huff of breath in defeat. It was too much for his young brain to wrap around right now.

Nero's life had been filled with all sorts of crazy things, but never had anything so precious been permanently torn from him like this. Not the most important person in the world. Not him.. His head drooped.

"T-th-there was s-so many of them, and j-just him... S-s-s-so ma-many.. A-and th-then that l-last g-guy.. That guy.. He sh-shot him. He sh-shot him in the ch-ch-ch-chest and now he's d-d-dying... And then..." The green lad bit his tongue and shook his head. There was no need to reveal what happened after that. There was too much, and it was all too graphic and real and harsh and..

He eyed the wound on his chest again, smiling in a manner that did not meet his eyes- quite the contrary, it actually contrasted them in an almost scary manner. "Th-they st-stabbed me. A-and it d-didn't g-go through. St-stabbed me a-as hard as th-they could.. B-but.." Was he a monster after all...? He lowered his head and released a long breath of air.

The scorpion boy stiffened at the initial touch of his friend, drawing in a sharp breath- and then came to relax, his body going slightly limp. Nero found this sort of dull pain filling him, almost as if it were being pumped through his veins with his blood. Blood.. His stomach did somersaults and he rested his forehead lightly on his friend's shoulder, his eyes filling with a diluted sadness as he stared quietly at nothing in particular. He seemed to have relaxed entirely at the command to shut up, a strange reaction it may seem to some, however one must take into account that he had known this other D-Corp child-err, teen.

"H-He'll be f-fine..." Nero echoed quietly, tired eyes turning towards Simon's face. "H-he'll be f-fine...?" He questioned after another moment, face filled with a look of pure trust behind the sadness and desperation. He truly trusted this boy who struggled to comfort him, against all the odds. He believed every word, even came to idolize him to a certain extent. Many things had faltered in his life, but he had always had Simon and... Axel. Now, without Axel, he still needed Simon, and in this moment (judging by his current expression) that need was very evident. This was his best friend, the only person- err, sharkperson he felt he could depend on right now.. Or even trust in the slightest. Anything the other teen said next would be accepted by the almost naive boy he tried to soothe, whose heart was so craving some sort of answer.