[The interior of the apartment matters little to Adrian when he hasn't been living in his old one for two months now. He just steps in with heavy footfalls, a grimace fixed on his features. He doesn't sit down himself, instead opting to hover a few feet away.
He knows exactly what Rosso is doing because he'd be doing it himself, and he's not going to let him get away with it. But...for now, he'll answer.]
Barely.
[Not without much effort on his part.]</small.
Now quit stallin' and tell me what the hell happened.
Rosso glances up at Adrian, ears flat, tail still, and eventually lets out his characteristically long and exaggerated sigh. The sigh that he'd use on something that's a minor nuisance; the sort that he uses when he wants to pretend something is that when it isn't.]
...I went out. Probably shouldn't have left the caves, but all I wanted to do was be anywhere else and get this war shit over with. While I was walking past some storefronts, in the middle of the streets, this bitch walks up to me and just punches me in the face.
[Rosso flips his wrist about as he talks.]
I retaliated. Obviously. She had some weird mirror magic and kept disappearing into reflections and tormenting me for a while, and I couldn't— [urgh. The way his voice cracks is unmistakable, but he tries to force it away as he battles the discomfort,] —couldn't do anything about her. She was immune to everything I did. My flames couldn't reach her, and I...
...at some point, I lost control of my magic completely. Couldn't conjure flames, couldn't even keep my scythe summoned, and she struck me down. One second I'm swinging at her, and the next I remember choking on blood and staring up at the sky while my vision faded.
So! That's all you missed. Don't make a big deal out of dumb shit. I came back in one piece and all.
Someone just...targeted him randomly, and for what? Absolutely no reason? Just to get their rocks off?? It's not like Adrian hasn't gotten into fights with people before, but typically something set it off. An argument even. But to hear of it like this...
It causes Adrian's mane to bristle as his hackles visibly raise, his yellow eyes darkening as his pupils dilate to slits that are near imperceptible.]
Dumb shit? Dumb shit- don't TELL me that's fuckin' dumb shit when some bitch just walked up to you and killed you for no reason!
[It didn't even sound like she was hunger crazed, like he'd been when he killed Hanna. She just...did it, because he was there, and because she could.
And that makes Adrian want to spit fire, both literal and figurative.
Until he finally comes back to himself long enough to speak again, and when he does, actual sparks skitter off his fangs.]
[Rosso's rather flippant summary of how he died is one thing — he doesn't want to think of it beyond the most basic level of "it happened, oh well", because it's easier to pretend it's just another Haha-Funny-War-Casualty issue than it is something that bothers him. The fact that he was defenseless bothers him. He's never been defenseless; it took thirteen barely-adults in Varnimyr to quell his 500-year-long rage and knock him out long enough for Ventus to drag him back home. Thirteen people couldn't stand against Rosso, let alone entire armies back before he got stuck here.
So why, why, why was he helpless? Because she was immune to everything he could possibly do? The city had burned alongside him, the street up in smoke until he couldn't muster a single flame anymore, and Rosso knows that's what power feels like. Yet he was nothing. Nothing, and he hates every second he's forced to recall it. It's almost worse than being locked in a lab for most of his life, worse than being nominated Fire Master, almost worse than five hundred years of wishing someone would save him. Funnily enough, the world always told him he'd burn out eventually, and then there he was. An empty, flameless husk.
Adrian's anger, though, that's another thing entirely. Anger has never caught Rosso off-guard — he's a walking inferno of rage — but it does. It does when it's Adrian, who had been so stalwart while Rosso faced his demons in the maze, an anchor in the storm while he fessed up to losing his mind and going insane, an ever-welcome presence while Rosso braided flowers into his hair and they spoke of Misha. He's known, of course, that Adrian's temper is akin to his; it's an observation he made long ago when he was trying to kick out windshields and when he nearly got his head bitten off for calling the guy a "kitty".
Still, though, in some ways, it's confusing. The defensive part of him wonders why Adrian would get mad, as if it matters since Rosso came back. That same part refuses to acknowledge that people care, still, to this day. The logical part... well, it knows better.
But it would be easier if you didn't care in the first place, you idiot.]
What, you're gonna throw yourself to the wolves now?! Gonna scour all of Bavan and the next couple towns over until you get lucky? Don't be a fucking idiot. What the fuck would— [would that accomplish? would be the point?] —would I do if she killed you, too?!
I don't know! But you can't just let people get away with shit like that!
[He's had his time dealing with grudges. He's had to swallow his pride and retreat with his tail between his legs when he knows he isn't going to win a fight. He gets how awful that feels, and how awful Rosso probably feels right now.
Adrian wants to say he knows how to lure people like that out. All you have to do is call them out. Issue a challenge, do something public and they'll come out of the damn woodworks. If this person kills for sport, they wouldn't be able to resist it.]
And if I haven't died yet with all the shit I've been through, then if she killed me I'd take her bitch-ass down with me.
You think I'm just letting her get away with it? Clean the goddamn wool out of your stupid ears and listen for once! When I tell you that I was powerless to stop her I'm not just blowing smoke up your ass — and I'm de-powered here, too!
[Rosso doesn't like his werewolf form. He can jump as high as he did back home which is a bonus, and he can travel pretty quickly, but none of that is new to him. Other than Ventus, he was the fastest back home, and the only reason the latter beat him was because Ventus could freely travel on literal wind.
Here, Rosso is as powerless as they come. Feels that way, anyway. He bristles and snarls at the implication that he's letting Mary get away with anything, but that's all he can do. Back home, the curtains would've caught fire in his rage. Back home, he would've summoned his scythe and slashed the coffee table in half. Hell, back on Felfri, he could've done the same. But what good did it do?
By now, he's no longer sitting on the couch. He's more crouched on it, like he might leap into action at any moment, claws digging into the arm of it in an effort to keep himself grounded.]
If I couldn't do shit while having every ability I had back home, what the fuck makes you think I can do shit now? [And, more importantly:] Why are you so hellbent on...
[On revenge, on sticking up for Rosso, on being there— none of that falls from his lips, though. Instead, his voice dies in his throat, grip tightening against the fabric.]
[It's not a fair accusation, and Adrian knows it, but it's been said before he could think otherwise. It's hard to think clearly at all when he's this pissed off...and it isn't even at Rosso, not really. He isn't even sure, entirely, what it is that holds most of his ire. This woman who came for him has a lot of it, certainly, but that's not all, is it? Anger at the unfairness of it all, maybe. Even if you come back here, death isn't free. Die enough times, and you start to lose yourself.
And maybe that's the scariest thing of all. The only thing Adrian has ever had that couldn't be stolen from him was...who he was. He has to imagine that Rosso feels the same way, at least to some degree.
He does back off a little, though. It's just sunk in that he's been screaming, Rosso's been screaming, they've kindof just been shouting at each other. Rosso doesn't really need to be yelled at, as if dying was his fault or something. He bristles still, all of the fur on his mane and shoulders having risen to the point where he looks like he's doubled in size...but he does make a concentrated effort to wait before he speaks. To actually let himself calm down for half a second, first.]
...I ain't tryin' to say what happened is your fault. I didn't mean that, I'm sorry.
[Sorry. Adrian would have never, months ago.]
I just. ...I wasn't there. I was with you...why wasn't I fuckin' there then.
[Maybe, if they'd stuck together, this wouldn't have happened. Or, at the very least, Rosso would have stood more of a fighting chance not being alone. But Adrian, being Adrian, went off by himself to go do god knows what. It's almost funny, how sticking together spelled disaster with Hanna, and now...it's the opposite.]
[Sorry. A word that carries so much weight. A word that means so much to Rosso in this specific moment in time. It's admittedly off-putting at first just to hear it from Adrian at all.
He shakes his head, grip relaxing. His claws have made holes in the arm of the couch, and slowly does he extract them from the fabric and sink back down.]
There was a war. One of us was gonna die there. If you were with me, I'd probably have been too distracted trying to make sure you lived.
[Shoulders slump, and Rosso twists around so that he's sitting on the couch like a person, back leaning against the cushions. After a moment, he pulls his legs up to his chest.]
I'm not letting you die on my watch. It was probably a good thing you weren't there.
[Adrian stays put across the room for a handful of seconds, watching as Rosso sort of deflates in front of him. He hates that it has to be an ultimatum, that they're just out here waiting for their turn to die in some fantastically horrible fashion only for the cycle to repeat itself. If fate were kind and not cruel, Adrian would have gotten immediate karma for what he did in the Wastelands. Mukuro's spear would not have missed something vital, and that would have been that.
But if being here has taught Adrian anything, it's that if he died- even for a short period- there are people who would be looking for him. Left behind, wondering after his safety and wellbeing, and that is not something he's experienced since he was a very young child.
He had to think to understand why seeing Rosso's lost compass bothered him so bad. He didn't even have to speculate, he just...knew that Rosso had been killed. There's no way he would have just dropped something that important to him. Then, hearing that he'd been killed, brutally. It set off something in him that he hasn't felt since losing Misha. That blind, overwhelming terror that it's happening again.
His chest heaves a little, as all of a sudden it feels like he can't quite take a full breath. Smoke trails through the gaps in his fangs, but no fire ever comes. He just stands there, stupidly, having a crisis in his head as the silence between them stretches on.
Eventually, he slowly pads forward, but he doesn't move to sit on the couch next to Rosso like a normal person might. Instead, he sinks in front of him, thudding heavily to his knees. He's tall enough that they're still mostly eye-to-eye, Rosso maybe a few inches above him still sitting but not by much.
Then, without...really any preamble or warning, he leans in so he can pull the Werewolf into a hug. His paws grip him tight, firm but not unyielding, one pressed against his shoulder while the other rests in an awkward place between his neck and the back of his head, like he's not sure where exactly it should go.]
Ordinarily, Rosso would immediately jerk away. Complain. Bemoan the sudden contact and yell and make a fuss simply because he's Rosso and he doesn't need sympathy or warmth or help. Doesn't deserve it. Too dangerous to have it. Whatever excuses he could possibly spew, they die on his tongue because it's Adrian.
He barely has time to squeeze out a surprised squeak. One second, he's sitting there minding his own business, next thing he knows Adrian is crouched in front of him, and now there are paws firm and stalwart on him.
Internally, he's screaming. Not for angry reasons. Just for "how dare you make my feelings for you worse" reasons. For "how dare you care" reasons.
Rosso hesitates for a slow moment, hands hovering over Adrian's shoulders. Maybe he's hallucinating this. His tired brain is making shit up, obviously, it's not like Adrian would ever give him a hug.
...
Arms wind their way around Adrian's neck, fingers tangling with his mane. One shaky exhale later, all Rosso can say is,]
[There are very few people Adrian cares about, or that's what he would say if confronted directly about it. He hates people, generally, and would much rather be left alone. It's only by the perserverance of a select few that they've managed to break his walls down to uncover what's hidden beneath. And what is hidden there is someone who never had the chance to have a proper life. No real childhood, no real rest. Constantly pushing and fighting to survive and for what? Just himself. He's the only person he's ever had.
At least until he came here. Until he met some of the most annoying people to ever live, yet somehow realize that he's not sure what he'd do without them.
Rosso, who he actually hated when they first met because of how much it was like looking at himself in a mirror, is now one of those people. For all his griping and grousing, he would protect him with his life and do so willingly. Quite the huge change from Adrian's motto following the loss of Misha: fuck you, got mine. Because he rarely ever gets his. There's no room then for kindness or leniency.
He doesn't retort for once, actually staying silent as Rosso returns the embrace. He's feels so small, so fragile, even though he knows the Were is anything but. At least this time, if something happens, he won't be feeling regrets.
Adrian's ears fall back, low and nearly completely hidden against his mane, as he exhales on a chuffing sound against Rosso's shoulder. It's not a purr, but more of a lion-sound of contentment.]
Whatever the hell happens now, you're stuck with me. Even if you hate it, I ain't gonna not be there to back you up anymore. Don't forget that.
Rosso clings. It's incredibly unlike him — he lives alone, after all, so who could he possibly cling to? — but he finds comfort in the embrace despite himself. The logical part of his brain wonders if this hug has gone on for too long. Aren't hugs supposed to last for a few seconds? Rosso wouldn't know; no one's ever hugged him before. At least not like this.
Perhaps the hatred when they first met was mutual. Rosso had been overcome with fury on his arrival, kicking out car windshields and getting into random fights because that's who he is as a person. Adrian's presence had been entirely unwelcome at the time, snarky and superior-sounding as he'd been. Then, Rosso found him mangled by his own transformation in an alleyway, and all bets were off. Much as he despised it at the time, he started to care. The more they ran into each other, the more he started to care. Ribbing each other on the internet and confessing how much his life sucked and going to the amusement park, having Adrian basically come to his rescue in the maze, getting plastered in the Fog caves and making him dinner and braiding flowers into his hair—
Ugh. Gross, is that sentimentality? How the mighty fall and all that.
If Adrian thinks he feels small, Rosso can echo the sentiment; being hugged by the giant manticore is reminding him that he's absolutely tiny. Normally, that would bother him — it's usually On Sight for people who tease him about his height, something he's always been touchy about — but somehow, he's feeling weirdly secure. "Weirdly" except it's not actually that strange of an occurrence, given everything that's built up to this exact moment. It isn't as though Rosso has ever felt a sense of security in his life.
He hums briefly, contemplatively, and then decides... fuck it. He has something to say.]
...I didn't ever tell you my first name. Did I? [...] I guess I trust you enough to use it now, if you want. It's "Ainen".
[Though, he thinks if he actually heard Adrian use it, he might just die on the spot.]
[Normally, a hug would not be lasting this long, no. But Adrian isn't a hugger, and has not regularly hugged many people, so he also doesn't really know what he's supposed to do here. And he does remember that when Maya hugged him that one time he actually returned it...it lasted a little bit. And it was nice, even though he hadn't admitted to it at the time.
Plus, he feels like he really needs to make up for shoving both feet in his mouth by coming into Rosso's apartment and screaming at him for dying. It hasn't really been a good look for him.]
Tell me somethin' I don't know.
[He murmurs, rolling his eyes where Rosso won't be able to see. It's about that moment that he realizes that Rosso's hands are in his mane, but it's fine. They can be there, it's fineeeeeee-
He's about to draw back finally when Rosso's next admission interrupts him, his mouth half open for a second as what he says sinks in.]
......is that s'posed to be some kinda anagram for "Adrian"?
[Nevermind, Rosso's slightly romantic feelings for Adrian have died, bye, get out of his apartment.
He doesn't really break the hug so much as he leans back in shock at that, like of all the things to possibly fucking say, that's what this fucking moron has? This is what his day has become now? You come into his house to give him his missing compass back, yell at him for dying, embrace him, and now this?? In front of his salad—
"Sitting back" doesn't mean his arms aren't still around Adrian's neck and that his hands aren't still tangled in his mane; he's simply giving them enough space so he can flatly look Adrian dead in the eye while he musters all the sarcasm in the world right now.]
Yes, that's it, you fucking got me, congratulations. By the El, you're the dumbest motherfucker in the universe.
[(Still affectionate)
He rolls his eye. Behind him, there's an unmistakable wag in his tail as part of him finds some humour in the situation, much as he wants to pretend he doesn't. If he weren't feeling so grossly fond of Adrian by the point that was said, he might've bonked the manticore over the head and kicked him out.
It probably says something about the current state of their friendship that he doesn't go that route.]
I'm five hundred fucking years older than you, so isn't your name an anagram of mine?
[Adrian knows that Rosso giving him his first name is a big deal, but honestly it's because it's such a big deal that he immediately went to saying something stupid about it, because...like...how else do you react??? He had no idea that he was calling him by anything else this whole time, so to hear it like he's been let in on some special secret is just...
It's too much. It's short circuited his brain and he has to cope by being an idiot.
The good news is that Rosso reacts pretty much exactly how he thought he would, which causes Adrian's tail to curl behind him as he grins back at the other, cheeky and all teeth.]
Oh yeah. I almost forgot you were a grandpa, grandpa.
[Honestly... he wants that to come out more intimidating than it does. A little more spite or vitriol or something, but it doesn't do that. It comes out playfully. Horrifyingly so.
There's that plus the internal horror of the fact that he's just casually slipped in a term of endearment there, because Rosso is extremely heterosexual today apparently — ooh boy. Hey, you know what, he'd like to go be emotionless now. That's surely something he can do. Just trade all the fire and rage and gross unmentionable feelings in for... like a new monster form or something. Mana accepts emotions as currency right? No?
Undeterred by his slip-up, he attempts, poorly, to cover it up.]
Didn't anybody teach you to respect your elders?! [grrr please voice sound angrier, he's begging]
[It's a good thing Adrian has absolutely no clue what that means. As far as he knows, it was some attempt at a word that didn't come out right because Rosso was too angy, which...is common, so he's going to just assume that.]
Haaah? The fuck you even sayin' anymore?
[He lifts one of his big paws and just...drops it on top of Rosso's head, deliberately working it around so he can muss up his hair good. God, he loves fucking with him so much, it's fun.]
Yeah okay, I'll respect you when you stop yappin' at me like a puppy. It's cute.
[Rosso chooses not to answer that question goodbye he has passed away—
He audibly groans (scream-groans) (it's very loud) when Adrian starts to ruffle his hair. It's so long, please, if you tangle it you're gonna be the one brushing it you fucking punk-ass bitch—
...
CUTE?!]
I—!
[Rosso.exe has stopped working.]
F...fuck off! I'm not fuckin' cute—!
[HE'S SCARY AS FUCK :(]
Don't fucking tease me, fuck you, I'll kick your ass!
[Face as red as his hair. Good job, Adrian, you got him.]
[Okay now he's just asking for it, but this is like...easy. It's familiar. He'd rather be goading Rosso into snapping at him than confronting the reality of their respective mortality. It's easier to cope when you spin it into something ridiculous, which seems to be the method of attack here.
That, and he's still trying to shake off feeling all...sentimental after that hug. He can't do sentiment, he's allergic.]
[Rosso is also allergic to sentiment and at this specific moment in time, he suddenly wishes he were allergic to cats so he could yell at Adrian to get the fuck out of his apartment and let him fester in peace. Except he also doesn't want to do that, either.
They're still kind of grossly wrapped around each other in some ways — Rosso's fingertips never really left Adrian's mane. He could be a dick and pull it like a grade schooler, but the little werewolf is slightly more mature than that (source needed). Spurned on by the comment, Rosso chooses to make it somewhat physical, finally untangling his fingers from Adrian's fur and instead settling them on his shoulders.
Acting entirely on impulse, he hooks his legs around Adrian's waist from where the manticore is crouched, and with hardly any effort on his part, Rosso pushes his full weight forward to send them both careening to the ground between the sofa and coffee table. Triumphantly, he sits on Adrian's stomach, arms crossed, like he doesn't weigh five pounds soaking wet and couldn't easily be thrown off by the larger monster.]
Try me, brat.
[5 seconds until Rosso realises that he's the architect of his own doom.]
[Since Adrian had already technically been on the floor, it won't be difficult at all for Rosso to use his weight against him, rocking him backwards and sending them both down onto the floor. He falls flat on his back on the carpet with enough force to cause the coffee table to rattle near his head, his paws lifted up like a startled red-pands in front of him. He looks back up at Rosso owlishly, eyes wide and unblinking as he perches there on his stomach, accomplished. He's small enough comparitively that Adrian barely registers the weight, but it's more...the principle of the thing.
...and it sets off an instinct, one that makes Adrian growl, deep and long, in the back of his throat.]
S'that a challenge?
[He huffs, his nose wrinkling at the way he sounds breathless when he says that, like he'd just run a marathon. His tail has little room to move, but if he weren't stuck between the couch and table, it would be whipping around like crazy as he leans back...and attempts to get his back feet wedged up underneath Rosso so he can bunny kick push him off. He doesn't have his lion legs yet (that comes in a couple days), so it's a little awkward, but it comes with Adrian moving to try to sit up so he can plant his paws against Rosso's chest as he flips their positions, attempting to wrestle him down until he's pinned.]
[Normally, Rosso would be harder to shake, on account of being literally one of the strongest motherfuckers on Elrios. Normally doesn't mean shit here, though, where his strength is massively diminished — something he was genuinely just berating himself for — and Adrian can easily get the upper hand on him due to sheer size alone.
It doesn't come without a fight; Rosso pitches an almost literal fit as he tries not to go down, gripping Adrian's waist hard with his knees in an attempt not to be thrown or kicked or wrestled out of his victory. He obviously tried so very hard to get it. (Why in Elria's name he thought Adrian wouldn't fight him back is a mystery.)
So, Rosso goes down flailing, trying to push Adrian back with his hands on his chest, like he's going to maybe succeed here what with his vice-grip on the manticore's hips and with his (fairly impressive, reduced to feeling fairly average) strength. There's a doglike yelp as he hits the floor, victory gone just as soon as he earned it, and...]
[His face flares red, ears flattening back against his skull, and for a slow moment he's all but paralysed. Belatedly, the sound of Adrian's earlier growl and the breathy tone of voice finally hits him, alongside some strange sense of dizziness. Suddenly, it's hot in here.
Totally not all the blood rushing to his face or anything, it's definitely hot in here. He must have the heat cranked up too high or something.
Sufficiently pinned to the floor, Rosso can only manage a very weak response to that question.]
You know it is.
[Somehow, there's still fight in him. Verbally, anyhow.]
[God, why does Rosso scream so much. It's like he's getting killed all over again, seriously. And Adrian, who is very sensitive to that as a Manticore, feels his head practically ring from it as he fights to regain the upper hand, as if they were actually wrestling in the first place. Makes sense that they'd go from having a heart-to-heart to immediately trying to pin each other because neither one of them have more than one braincell in their skulls at a time.
Regardless of all the racket Rosso makes, Adrian is not going to stop until he's gotten Rosso down. It's not without a considerable fight- Rosso actually boffs Adrian right in the nose at one point, which stuns him long enough that Rosso was able to like, jump up onto him and nearly knock him back down- but once he recovers he's able to get the upper hand and use his considerable bulk to pin him. It isn't helped by the way his claws dig into his hips in an attempt to push back, Adrian working to try to remember not to let his claws extend out from his paws, lest he actually do damage with them.
At the end of it all, they're nose to nose with one another with Adrian panting to catch his breath, his hair falling in waves across his face and down far enough to brush Rosso's shoulders. He glares back at him for a long moment, and at first there's the hint of a triumphant, assholeish grin working its way onto his features, until he notices that...face Rosso's making, and it causes him to freeze.
What...
His lip curls, his expression sort of shifting through a dozen different emotions all at once.]
Rosso doesn't move. Partly because he can't (there is a giant catman on top of him) but also because, in the moment, he sort of... forgets? Forgets to not have his legs around Adrian's waist, forgets how to move his arms and swat Adrian away, forgets how to exist.
The hair touching his shoulder tickles.
Adrian's breath is very hot on his face. Well, more like his lips, since they're nose to nose, but if Rosso thinks about that he's going to die.
Adrian is... pretty? Pretty. Urgh—]
You enjoying yourself, brat? You gonna sit there all day, or are you gonna move?
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flammadecinis) wrote2022-05-15 03:26 pm
no subject
He knows exactly what Rosso is doing because he'd be doing it himself, and he's not going to let him get away with it. But...for now, he'll answer.]
Barely.
[Not without much effort on his part.]</small. Now quit stallin' and tell me what the hell happened.
no subject
Rosso glances up at Adrian, ears flat, tail still, and eventually lets out his characteristically long and exaggerated sigh. The sigh that he'd use on something that's a minor nuisance; the sort that he uses when he wants to pretend something is that when it isn't.]
...I went out. Probably shouldn't have left the caves, but all I wanted to do was be anywhere else and get this war shit over with. While I was walking past some storefronts, in the middle of the streets, this bitch walks up to me and just punches me in the face.
[Rosso flips his wrist about as he talks.]
I retaliated. Obviously. She had some weird mirror magic and kept disappearing into reflections and tormenting me for a while, and I couldn't— [urgh. The way his voice cracks is unmistakable, but he tries to force it away as he battles the discomfort,] —couldn't do anything about her. She was immune to everything I did. My flames couldn't reach her, and I...
...at some point, I lost control of my magic completely. Couldn't conjure flames, couldn't even keep my scythe summoned, and she struck me down. One second I'm swinging at her, and the next I remember choking on blood and staring up at the sky while my vision faded.
So! That's all you missed. Don't make a big deal out of dumb shit. I came back in one piece and all.
NOO MY HTML
what the fuck?
What the fuck.
Someone just...targeted him randomly, and for what? Absolutely no reason? Just to get their rocks off?? It's not like Adrian hasn't gotten into fights with people before, but typically something set it off. An argument even. But to hear of it like this...
It causes Adrian's mane to bristle as his hackles visibly raise, his yellow eyes darkening as his pupils dilate to slits that are near imperceptible.]
Dumb shit? Dumb shit- don't TELL me that's fuckin' dumb shit when some bitch just walked up to you and killed you for no reason!
[It didn't even sound like she was hunger crazed, like he'd been when he killed Hanna. She just...did it, because he was there, and because she could.
And that makes Adrian want to spit fire, both literal and figurative.
Until he finally comes back to himself long enough to speak again, and when he does, actual sparks skitter off his fangs.]
I'll kill her.
SQUEEZES YOU IN SOLIDARITY
So why, why, why was he helpless? Because she was immune to everything he could possibly do? The city had burned alongside him, the street up in smoke until he couldn't muster a single flame anymore, and Rosso knows that's what power feels like. Yet he was nothing. Nothing, and he hates every second he's forced to recall it. It's almost worse than being locked in a lab for most of his life, worse than being nominated Fire Master, almost worse than five hundred years of wishing someone would save him. Funnily enough, the world always told him he'd burn out eventually, and then there he was. An empty, flameless husk.
Adrian's anger, though, that's another thing entirely. Anger has never caught Rosso off-guard — he's a walking inferno of rage — but it does. It does when it's Adrian, who had been so stalwart while Rosso faced his demons in the maze, an anchor in the storm while he fessed up to losing his mind and going insane, an ever-welcome presence while Rosso braided flowers into his hair and they spoke of Misha. He's known, of course, that Adrian's temper is akin to his; it's an observation he made long ago when he was trying to kick out windshields and when he nearly got his head bitten off for calling the guy a "kitty".
Still, though, in some ways, it's confusing. The defensive part of him wonders why Adrian would get mad, as if it matters since Rosso came back. That same part refuses to acknowledge that people care, still, to this day. The logical part... well, it knows better.
But it would be easier if you didn't care in the first place, you idiot.]
What, you're gonna throw yourself to the wolves now?! Gonna scour all of Bavan and the next couple towns over until you get lucky? Don't be a fucking idiot. What the fuck would— [would that accomplish? would be the point?] —would I do if she killed you, too?!
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[He's had his time dealing with grudges. He's had to swallow his pride and retreat with his tail between his legs when he knows he isn't going to win a fight. He gets how awful that feels, and how awful Rosso probably feels right now.
Adrian wants to say he knows how to lure people like that out. All you have to do is call them out. Issue a challenge, do something public and they'll come out of the damn woodworks. If this person kills for sport, they wouldn't be able to resist it.]
And if I haven't died yet with all the shit I've been through, then if she killed me I'd take her bitch-ass down with me.
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[Rosso doesn't like his werewolf form. He can jump as high as he did back home which is a bonus, and he can travel pretty quickly, but none of that is new to him. Other than Ventus, he was the fastest back home, and the only reason the latter beat him was because Ventus could freely travel on literal wind.
Here, Rosso is as powerless as they come. Feels that way, anyway. He bristles and snarls at the implication that he's letting Mary get away with anything, but that's all he can do. Back home, the curtains would've caught fire in his rage. Back home, he would've summoned his scythe and slashed the coffee table in half. Hell, back on Felfri, he could've done the same. But what good did it do?
By now, he's no longer sitting on the couch. He's more crouched on it, like he might leap into action at any moment, claws digging into the arm of it in an effort to keep himself grounded.]
If I couldn't do shit while having every ability I had back home, what the fuck makes you think I can do shit now? [And, more importantly:] Why are you so hellbent on...
[On revenge, on sticking up for Rosso, on being there— none of that falls from his lips, though. Instead, his voice dies in his throat, grip tightening against the fabric.]
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And maybe that's the scariest thing of all. The only thing Adrian has ever had that couldn't be stolen from him was...who he was. He has to imagine that Rosso feels the same way, at least to some degree.
He does back off a little, though. It's just sunk in that he's been screaming, Rosso's been screaming, they've kindof just been shouting at each other. Rosso doesn't really need to be yelled at, as if dying was his fault or something. He bristles still, all of the fur on his mane and shoulders having risen to the point where he looks like he's doubled in size...but he does make a concentrated effort to wait before he speaks. To actually let himself calm down for half a second, first.]
...I ain't tryin' to say what happened is your fault. I didn't mean that, I'm sorry.
[Sorry. Adrian would have never, months ago.]
I just. ...I wasn't there. I was with you...why wasn't I fuckin' there then.
[Maybe, if they'd stuck together, this wouldn't have happened. Or, at the very least, Rosso would have stood more of a fighting chance not being alone. But Adrian, being Adrian, went off by himself to go do god knows what. It's almost funny, how sticking together spelled disaster with Hanna, and now...it's the opposite.]
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He shakes his head, grip relaxing. His claws have made holes in the arm of the couch, and slowly does he extract them from the fabric and sink back down.]
There was a war. One of us was gonna die there. If you were with me, I'd probably have been too distracted trying to make sure you lived.
[Shoulders slump, and Rosso twists around so that he's sitting on the couch like a person, back leaning against the cushions. After a moment, he pulls his legs up to his chest.]
I'm not letting you die on my watch. It was probably a good thing you weren't there.
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But if being here has taught Adrian anything, it's that if he died- even for a short period- there are people who would be looking for him. Left behind, wondering after his safety and wellbeing, and that is not something he's experienced since he was a very young child.
He had to think to understand why seeing Rosso's lost compass bothered him so bad. He didn't even have to speculate, he just...knew that Rosso had been killed. There's no way he would have just dropped something that important to him. Then, hearing that he'd been killed, brutally. It set off something in him that he hasn't felt since losing Misha. That blind, overwhelming terror that it's happening again.
His chest heaves a little, as all of a sudden it feels like he can't quite take a full breath. Smoke trails through the gaps in his fangs, but no fire ever comes. He just stands there, stupidly, having a crisis in his head as the silence between them stretches on.
Eventually, he slowly pads forward, but he doesn't move to sit on the couch next to Rosso like a normal person might. Instead, he sinks in front of him, thudding heavily to his knees. He's tall enough that they're still mostly eye-to-eye, Rosso maybe a few inches above him still sitting but not by much.
Then, without...really any preamble or warning, he leans in so he can pull the Werewolf into a hug. His paws grip him tight, firm but not unyielding, one pressed against his shoulder while the other rests in an awkward place between his neck and the back of his head, like he's not sure where exactly it should go.]
Dumbass.
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Ordinarily, Rosso would immediately jerk away. Complain. Bemoan the sudden contact and yell and make a fuss simply because he's Rosso and he doesn't need sympathy or warmth or help. Doesn't deserve it. Too dangerous to have it. Whatever excuses he could possibly spew, they die on his tongue because it's Adrian.
He barely has time to squeeze out a surprised squeak. One second, he's sitting there minding his own business, next thing he knows Adrian is crouched in front of him, and now there are paws firm and stalwart on him.
Internally, he's screaming. Not for angry reasons. Just for "how dare you make my feelings for you worse" reasons. For "how dare you care" reasons.
Rosso hesitates for a slow moment, hands hovering over Adrian's shoulders. Maybe he's hallucinating this. His tired brain is making shit up, obviously, it's not like Adrian would ever give him a hug.
...
Arms wind their way around Adrian's neck, fingers tangling with his mane. One shaky exhale later, all Rosso can say is,]
Could say the same about you, brat.
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At least until he came here. Until he met some of the most annoying people to ever live, yet somehow realize that he's not sure what he'd do without them.
Rosso, who he actually hated when they first met because of how much it was like looking at himself in a mirror, is now one of those people. For all his griping and grousing, he would protect him with his life and do so willingly. Quite the huge change from Adrian's motto following the loss of Misha: fuck you, got mine. Because he rarely ever gets his. There's no room then for kindness or leniency.
He doesn't retort for once, actually staying silent as Rosso returns the embrace. He's feels so small, so fragile, even though he knows the Were is anything but. At least this time, if something happens, he won't be feeling regrets.
Adrian's ears fall back, low and nearly completely hidden against his mane, as he exhales on a chuffing sound against Rosso's shoulder. It's not a purr, but more of a lion-sound of contentment.]
Whatever the hell happens now, you're stuck with me. Even if you hate it, I ain't gonna not be there to back you up anymore. Don't forget that.
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[(Affectionate)
Rosso clings. It's incredibly unlike him — he lives alone, after all, so who could he possibly cling to? — but he finds comfort in the embrace despite himself. The logical part of his brain wonders if this hug has gone on for too long. Aren't hugs supposed to last for a few seconds? Rosso wouldn't know; no one's ever hugged him before. At least not like this.
Perhaps the hatred when they first met was mutual. Rosso had been overcome with fury on his arrival, kicking out car windshields and getting into random fights because that's who he is as a person. Adrian's presence had been entirely unwelcome at the time, snarky and superior-sounding as he'd been. Then, Rosso found him mangled by his own transformation in an alleyway, and all bets were off. Much as he despised it at the time, he started to care. The more they ran into each other, the more he started to care. Ribbing each other on the internet and confessing how much his life sucked and going to the amusement park, having Adrian basically come to his rescue in the maze, getting plastered in the Fog caves and making him dinner and braiding flowers into his hair—
Ugh. Gross, is that sentimentality? How the mighty fall and all that.
If Adrian thinks he feels small, Rosso can echo the sentiment; being hugged by the giant manticore is reminding him that he's absolutely tiny. Normally, that would bother him — it's usually On Sight for people who tease him about his height, something he's always been touchy about — but somehow, he's feeling weirdly secure. "Weirdly" except it's not actually that strange of an occurrence, given everything that's built up to this exact moment. It isn't as though Rosso has ever felt a sense of security in his life.
He hums briefly, contemplatively, and then decides... fuck it. He has something to say.]
...I didn't ever tell you my first name. Did I? [...] I guess I trust you enough to use it now, if you want. It's "Ainen".
[Though, he thinks if he actually heard Adrian use it, he might just die on the spot.]
I am so sorry
Plus, he feels like he really needs to make up for shoving both feet in his mouth by coming into Rosso's apartment and screaming at him for dying. It hasn't really been a good look for him.]
Tell me somethin' I don't know.
[He murmurs, rolling his eyes where Rosso won't be able to see. It's about that moment that he realizes that Rosso's hands are in his mane, but it's fine. They can be there, it's fineeeeeee-
He's about to draw back finally when Rosso's next admission interrupts him, his mouth half open for a second as what he says sinks in.]
......is that s'posed to be some kinda anagram for "Adrian"?
[A(d)(r)i(a)nen illuminati
Anyway Rosso has full immunity if he kills him]
no you're not
slightlyromantic feelings for Adrian have died, bye, get out of his apartment.He doesn't really break the hug so much as he leans back in shock at that, like of all the things to possibly fucking say, that's what this fucking moron has? This is what his day has become now? You come into his house to give him his missing compass back, yell at him for dying, embrace him, and now this?? In front of his salad—
"Sitting back" doesn't mean his arms aren't still around Adrian's neck and that his hands aren't still tangled in his mane; he's simply giving them enough space so he can flatly look Adrian dead in the eye while he musters all the sarcasm in the world right now.]
Yes, that's it, you fucking got me, congratulations. By the El, you're the dumbest motherfucker in the universe.
[(Still affectionate)
He rolls his eye. Behind him, there's an unmistakable wag in his tail as part of him finds some humour in the situation, much as he wants to pretend he doesn't. If he weren't feeling so grossly fond of Adrian by the point that was said, he might've bonked the manticore over the head and kicked him out.
It probably says something about the current state of their friendship that he doesn't go that route.]
I'm five hundred fucking years older than you, so isn't your name an anagram of mine?
[Y'all, that isn't how anagrams work—]
:3
It's too much. It's short circuited his brain and he has to cope by being an idiot.
The good news is that Rosso reacts pretty much exactly how he thought he would, which causes Adrian's tail to curl behind him as he grins back at the other, cheeky and all teeth.]
Oh yeah. I almost forgot you were a grandpa, grandpa.
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You wanna start shit, jagi?!
[Honestly... he wants that to come out more intimidating than it does. A little more spite or vitriol or something, but it doesn't do that. It comes out playfully. Horrifyingly so.
There's that plus the internal horror of the fact that he's just casually slipped in a term of endearment there, because Rosso is extremely heterosexual today apparently — ooh boy. Hey, you know what, he'd like to go be emotionless now. That's surely something he can do. Just trade all the fire and rage and gross unmentionable feelings in for... like a new monster form or something. Mana accepts emotions as currency right? No?
Undeterred by his slip-up, he attempts, poorly, to cover it up.]
Didn't anybody teach you to respect your elders?! [grrr please voice sound angrier, he's begging]
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Haaah? The fuck you even sayin' anymore?
[He lifts one of his big paws and just...drops it on top of Rosso's head, deliberately working it around so he can muss up his hair good. God, he loves fucking with him so much, it's fun.]
Yeah okay, I'll respect you when you stop yappin' at me like a puppy. It's cute.
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He audibly groans (scream-groans) (it's very loud) when Adrian starts to ruffle his hair. It's so long, please, if you tangle it you're gonna be the one brushing it you fucking punk-ass bitch—
...
CUTE?!]
I—!
[Rosso.exe has stopped working.]
F...fuck off! I'm not fuckin' cute—!
[HE'S SCARY AS FUCK :(]
Don't fucking tease me, fuck you, I'll kick your ass!
[Face as red as his hair. Good job, Adrian, you got him.]
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Uh huh, can you even reach it?
[Okay now he's just asking for it, but this is like...easy. It's familiar. He'd rather be goading Rosso into snapping at him than confronting the reality of their respective mortality. It's easier to cope when you spin it into something ridiculous, which seems to be the method of attack here.
That, and he's still trying to shake off feeling all...sentimental after that hug. He can't do sentiment, he's allergic.]
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They're still kind of grossly wrapped around each other in some ways — Rosso's fingertips never really left Adrian's mane. He could be a dick and pull it like a grade schooler, but the little werewolf is slightly more mature than that (source needed). Spurned on by the comment, Rosso chooses to make it somewhat physical, finally untangling his fingers from Adrian's fur and instead settling them on his shoulders.
Acting entirely on impulse, he hooks his legs around Adrian's waist from where the manticore is crouched, and with hardly any effort on his part, Rosso pushes his full weight forward to send them both careening to the ground between the sofa and coffee table. Triumphantly, he sits on Adrian's stomach, arms crossed, like he doesn't weigh five pounds soaking wet and couldn't easily be thrown off by the larger monster.]
Try me, brat.
[5 seconds until Rosso realises that he's the architect of his own doom.]
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[Since Adrian had already technically been on the floor, it won't be difficult at all for Rosso to use his weight against him, rocking him backwards and sending them both down onto the floor. He falls flat on his back on the carpet with enough force to cause the coffee table to rattle near his head, his paws lifted up like a startled red-pands in front of him. He looks back up at Rosso owlishly, eyes wide and unblinking as he perches there on his stomach, accomplished. He's small enough comparitively that Adrian barely registers the weight, but it's more...the principle of the thing.
...and it sets off an instinct, one that makes Adrian growl, deep and long, in the back of his throat.]
S'that a challenge?
[He huffs, his nose wrinkling at the way he sounds breathless when he says that, like he'd just run a marathon. His tail has little room to move, but if he weren't stuck between the couch and table, it would be whipping around like crazy as he leans back...and attempts to get his back feet wedged up underneath Rosso so he can
bunny kickpush him off. He doesn't have his lion legs yet (that comes in a couple days), so it's a little awkward, but it comes with Adrian moving to try to sit up so he can plant his paws against Rosso's chest as he flips their positions, attempting to wrestle him down until he's pinned.]1/2
It doesn't come without a fight; Rosso pitches an almost literal fit as he tries not to go down, gripping Adrian's waist hard with his knees in an attempt not to be thrown or kicked or wrestled out of his victory. He obviously tried so very hard to get it. (Why in Elria's name he thought Adrian wouldn't fight him back is a mystery.)
So, Rosso goes down flailing, trying to push Adrian back with his hands on his chest, like he's going to maybe succeed here what with his vice-grip on the manticore's hips and with his (fairly impressive, reduced to feeling fairly average) strength. There's a doglike yelp as he hits the floor, victory gone just as soon as he earned it, and...]
2/2
Totally not all the blood rushing to his face or anything, it's definitely hot in here. He must have the heat cranked up too high or something.
Sufficiently pinned to the floor, Rosso can only manage a very weak response to that question.]
You know it is.
[Somehow, there's still fight in him. Verbally, anyhow.]
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Regardless of all the racket Rosso makes, Adrian is not going to stop until he's gotten Rosso down. It's not without a considerable fight- Rosso actually boffs Adrian right in the nose at one point, which stuns him long enough that Rosso was able to like, jump up onto him and nearly knock him back down- but once he recovers he's able to get the upper hand and use his considerable bulk to pin him. It isn't helped by the way his claws dig into his hips in an attempt to push back, Adrian working to try to remember not to let his claws extend out from his paws, lest he actually do damage with them.
At the end of it all, they're nose to nose with one another with Adrian panting to catch his breath, his hair falling in waves across his face and down far enough to brush Rosso's shoulders. He glares back at him for a long moment, and at first there's the hint of a triumphant, assholeish grin working its way onto his features, until he notices that...face Rosso's making, and it causes him to freeze.
What...
His lip curls, his expression sort of shifting through a dozen different emotions all at once.]
Y-you...you look so fucking stupid-
[STOP LOOKING AT HIM WITH THOSE BIG OL EYES]
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[Genius.
Rosso doesn't move. Partly because he can't (there is a giant catman on top of him) but also because, in the moment, he sort of... forgets? Forgets to not have his legs around Adrian's waist, forgets how to move his arms and swat Adrian away, forgets how to exist.
The hair touching his shoulder tickles.
Adrian's breath is very hot on his face. Well, more like his lips, since they're nose to nose, but if Rosso thinks about that he's going to die.
Adrian is... pretty? Pretty. Urgh—]
You enjoying yourself, brat? You gonna sit there all day, or are you gonna move?
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