[Rosso is not usually a runner — even when he'd transformed into a half-shade and started clipping through the goddamn floor, he wasn't a runner — but today is entirely different. Today, he wakes up in pain, because he goes through so few transformations it fucking hurts every time he does. Today, he wakes up well before the crack of dawn itchy because his fur is shedding off, bleeding heavily because something is trying to pierce through the flesh of his back, clawing at his face because there are hairline cracks on his skin that burn. Suddenly when he opens his eye, his vision is a kaleidoscope, like staring through a faceted piece of glass. Too many images, too much to process.
All of that isn't why he's run off. The reason Rosso takes off — delirious with pain, unable to properly see while the blood runs down his face into the extra set of eyes on his cheeks — is because he can feel the telltale prickle of his old magic at the back of his neck. And he knows, better than anyone ever could, that the second he loses control, the treehouse will go up in flames. And he can't. He can't, he cannot let that happen.
Rosso doesn't know fear. Not really. But for the first time in years, he thinks he's feeling it claw its way down his spine and take root in his heart, a sticky spiderweb that he can't clear away.
He doesn't bother getting dressed by the time he heads down to the lake, which means he's still in his pyjamas — a baggy, cropped T-shirt and spandex shorts, and when Rosso is coherent again he'll thank past-him for never getting fancy pyjamas because he's bled through the white of the shirt. He feels the fire coming long before it actually makes its way to the surface, and by the time he makes it to the water's edge, the reeds are alight and the only thing stopping the crimson flame from spreading is the muddy bank. They'll burn out in time, but for now, smoke rises and whirls in the air, and Rosso is burying himself in a foot of water, sitting down in it with his hands shoved into the mud and his legs bent and clawed feet out behind him.
Ordinarily, he'd hear Adrian calling for him. Today, his werewolf hearing is gone, his sense of smell dulled, and the only thing he can hear is his pulse rushing in his ears. The surface of the water is boiling; Rosso is sweating, breathing like he's just run a marathon, and no matter how much he wills himself to calm down, the panic doesn't ebb.
...
At the treehouse, Alisha heads for the door, screaming at Adrian to follow her. She can sense exactly where he is.]
[Adrian isn't yet frantic about Rosso being missing, but the fact Rosso isn't answering him is causing those nerves to rise. He knows he should be able to hear him- should being the operative word here- and the fact he's not answering...
He's honestly about ready to just explode into the forest in any random direction, following the blood trail until he can't any longer, until he hears Alisha crying out again. He turns to look at her, the feathers along his neck and shoulders bristling.]
...take me to 'im. Hurry.
[From there, well. Alisha better hope she's fast on those little wings of hers, because limbs snap and bushes are crushed under talon and claw as Adrian follows after her, periodically hollaring Rosso's name between breaths. But there's nothing. Nothing. Did he go to Bavan, or further? Merain? The mountains?
The lake isn't so far that Adrian can spin too many wild theories, but it definitely gives him enough time to get agitated enough. In the end, he catches smoke and ash on the wind long before he actually sees anything, shouldering through the undergrowth until making it out to the edge of Lake Dala itself.
There. He spots a figure huddled over the water's edge, charred grasses surrounding them, their front half partially submerged. He doesn't know what to think, just that the fire is concerning enough...
And the fact that Rosso's shape isn't right is even moreso.]
[Rosso quite literally jumps when Adrian calls his name, a hundred red-and-blue eyes on his spine and legs and wings swivelling to look at him even though those vestigial eyes don't even have sight. There's dried blood coagulated around the sockets from where they burst from his back, not to mention the holes his wings grew out of, half-lizard and half-Nephilim.
He doesn't know what kind of creature he became. There's a long track in the mud and grass from where his too-long tail has woven through it, and he glances over his shoulder toward Adrian. Three eyes blink out of sync, and Rosso just looks... tired. His horns, which he hasn't had since Felfri, are heavy on his head. The firey halo looped around them is a constant reminder of his magic, even if it doesn't burn, even if it's showy and nothing else.]
Don't. I... [am covered in blood, and the water is literally bubbling around his forearms as the fire in the reeds surges,] I'm too... the fucking fire is back, Adri.
[Adrian curses lowly under his breath. He's not so close just yet that Rosso's fire could present a problem...but holy FUCKING shit, those eyes. The way they all turn to look at him at once sends chills through him, and for a moment he forgets to breathe. It's like something out of a horror movie...a nightmare. And it doesn't help that he's just covered in blood from what are obviously very recent changes, he's now realizing.
He swallows hard, sinking back on his haunches for a moment. Even from here, he can see the water bubbling and hissing underneath Rosso's touch, literally boiling just through sheer contact alone. The fact that what kind of monster he is exactly not being clear is only exacerbating the issue, likely leaving Rosso feeling like this is the fire. His fire. The same fire that's leveled buildings, rendering everything inside- people, objects, doesn't matter- to ash.]
...just stay where you are. I'm right here.
[He doesn't tell him "calm down" or "it's going to be okay", because neither of those things are helpful right now. One thing at a time.]
[So, yeah, he's staying where he is. Wings spread but slackened, fleshy tips buried in the bank. The eyes on his thighs underneath the water itch, but he ignores it, because there are far more important things going on right now. If he's in the water, he can focus on that, and not the magic he can't control. Not on his emotions, or his heavy breathing, or the sweat on his skin as he tries and tries and tries to keep it under control.]
I'm not hurt. Fog's already repaired the new bits. Just... need to get it under control. That's all.
[Fuck the Fog, honestly. Fuck whoever has done this to him. It isn't just about the change, it's about...retraumatizing, all over again.
Over, and over, and over again.
After a minute of silent observation, as Adrian notes that Rosso...isn't calming down, he moves to his feet again. He's already talking as he approaches, because he knows what Rosso is going to say. What he must be thinking, irrationally.]
I'm gonna be okay...a'ight? Fire...can't hurt me anymore.
[He says that lowly as his steps meander closer, until he's just a foot away. He can feel the heat radiating off Rosso in waves, so intense that it's warping the air around him, but it's not enough to make him shy away. He thinks if he tried to touch him right now, his feathers would likely burn away to nothing...so he doesn't. Instead, he hunkers down as close as he dares, able to look better at Rosso's face by staring at his distorted reflction in the water.]
[It's not that Rosso forgets that Adrian is immune to fire, but it's Rosso's fire, specifically, that he's worried about. Because, yeah, Rosso too, at one point, was immune to fire. To all fire but his own, when it burned those scars into his arms and left him a smouldering shell that no one could touch. Sort of like now.
When Adrian sits, the reeds bloom with a bright flame, but the added heat is enough to fully burn them away. The crimson dissipates and leaves behind only whorls of smoke, wafting their way into the air.
Rosso stares down into the water.]
...even mine? [Maybe it's not as awful now, since he's here and not there. It's just Fog-granted Ryslig Fire and not... his. Not entirely, despite the deceptive red tinge to the flames and the fact he can feel the lack of control. Not his. But his.] I just need... a minute. Need to calm down. I was trying not to burn the fucking house down. I can't...
[Adrian says that firmly. Not...pushy, or aggressive, but also nothing like a limp-wristed false promise. If Rosso is going to deal with this, it's going to be through his own merits, or nothing at all.]
This ain't your fire, Ainen. Whatever it is...it's magic from this place. Like what I got.
[They have to believe that, otherwise...
Otherwise, they're in really big trouble.
He shifts a bit, his much-larger wings folding at his back.]
You look like a Gargoyle. [Kiiiiiind....of.] So it's gotta be that, yeah?
Even if it feels like you can't right now, you'll get it handled eventually. We'll make sure you do, you hear me?
I can't, Adrian! Clean the cotton out of your ears and listen to me!
[There's a surge, suddenly, somewhere deep within him. A spike of frustration mixed with a warning, and then the clouds overhead warp and lightning suddenly strikes down on the bank on the opposite side of the shore. Rosso actually jolts at that, backing up out of the water, thinking he might get electrocuted.
Oh no. Oh no no no, that better not have been him. That better not have been new fucking magic!
He slumps and, already a mess, simply chooses to lie down on the bank in the mud and grass and cinders of reeds. He's covered in his own blood, what's one more thing to add to it? ...and he learns the hard way he needs to close the eyes on his back when he does this. Eugh.]
I'm fucking tired. I don't want... this. I don't want it! All I want is to be me, god dammit.
[The sudden lightning strike startles even Adrian, who would have jumped clear a foot in the air if he hadn't already clenched his talons into the grass. His wings do extend with alarm a little though, the feathers puffing out as his eyes dart from where the lightning struck to Rosso and back.
Seems like Rosso isn't the only one thinking that.
But it's over as quickly as it happened, and Adrian realizes maybe that was the wrong thing to say. He feels his heart sink as he watches Rosso sink down into the mud, as if it would all just swallow him up and make what's happening to him stop. Adrian would fistfight god if he had to to stop it, but it seems like there's nothing much that can be done.
And that really, really sucks.]
Jagi.
[Adrian manages quietly after a moment, inching just a little closer. He wants to reach for him, but he's scared touching him right now might just make Rosso more upset.]
[Rosso makes the most pathetic whimpering noise in the back of his throat, then rolls over onto his side. There are ashy, dirty spots on the upper backs of his arms where he was just pressed into the dirt. He doesn't want to think about his hair right now, he'll burn that bridge (literally) when he reaches it.]
Aegiya.
[Rosso's skin is very, very hot, but he reaches out and puts a claw on Adrian's hand. He wonders if he's going to burn the guy, like he did to Elsword and Ventus years ago. His hands shake when he thinks of it, or maybe that's simply the chill of cold water as it evaporates on his skin. He doesn't know.]
I think I cooked the fish in the lake.
[He's not joking, really, but he's trying to deflect. To hide from those emotions he dislikes so strongly, otherwise there's going to be another fire somewhere less-controlled.]
[Cooking all of the fish in the lake is probably....bbbbad? It's bad. But it's no worse than some of the worse things that lake has probably seen. Adrian would be shocked to learn that there are any fish left at all, come to think of it.
Adrian watches Rosso tentatively as he places a claw on his hand, just barely brushing his knuckles, and undoubtedly he can feel the sensation of heat. Yet...it's not burning him, not in any kind of way that would cause him real harm. Even the proximity, despite the way the air warps around Rosso, isn't bothering him.
And so, he'll shift his own claws a little, moving to sort of...wrap one of his fingers around Rosso's claw. Pinky-in-pinky, more or less.
[It likely isn't all the fish. If there are any left, it's only the ones near the surface that got fried. The bottom of the lake is freezing cold as always, and Rosso would know that if he'd venture into it and drown. He is, unfortunately, not willing to drown.
Adrian doesn't burn. Adrian is fine, he's not singed, he's not on fire, and Rosso can only exhale a relieved-sounding sigh. He scoots a bit closer through the dirt, accepting the finger-hold for now.]
It doesn't hurt you, does it? I— I used to run so hot that no one could touch me without blistering.
[His hand shifts just a little, edging a bit closer to Rosso's though he doesn't actually take his hand proper. He's respecting his space at the moment, not wanting to push for too much too quickly.]
It ain't burnin' me.
[What goes unsaid is that if Adrian didn't have this power already...it would have.]
[If Rosso had to choose between burning up like this and being alone, unable to touch anyone ever again, or only able to touch Adrian... the choice would be obvious. There's something comforting in the fact that Adrian is immune to his heat, to being boiled alive in his own skin.
Rosso, covered in blood and dirt and soot, scoots further and further, until he can lay his head on Adrian's lap.]
You look dumb as hell. [It's a half-hearted joke.] I don't want to burn your stupid little feathers off, or you'll look like a naked chicken.
[Adrian would joke back normally- "Not as dumb as you", or something- but he's worried he might upset Rosso accidentally if he pushes buttons right now. Instead, he'll take the joking on the chin as Rosso lays his head in his lap, and with one of their hands still only halfway held, he'll reach his claws up so he can stroke Rosso's hair with the other. Like everything else, it's doesn't burn him. It's just very warm.]
[Normally, the hand in his hair would make his tail wag. He's not a werewolf, so his reptile tail doesn't do the same thing, but the effect is conveyed when he nuzzles into Adrian's hand.]
...yeah. After all this shit? You looking like a naked chicken is probably the least of my concerns.
[Rosso huffs out a little breath. It's warm, but it's not fire.]
I'm covered in my own blood and lake gunk. I'm sure I look like shit right now.
I was trying to wait for u to get through some tags but I can't ignore these Rossos any longer
[It's enough for Adrian. He's not expecting anything crazy right now, especially with what Rosso's been going through. Plus, it looks like he's finally starting to calm down...and, in turn, cool down. It's slow, but that's fine. Adrian will sit out here in the mud with him for hours if he has to.]
Yeah, kinda.
[It feels strange, not having parts he's been used to for some time. Like his tail, which has been replaced with tailfeathers that can't move anywhere as freely. He'll compromise by draping a wing around them both, which he's noticing is actually quite larger than his wings as a Manticore.]
But we'll get you cleaned up when we get back home.
[Wing-blankets are always appreciated. Rosso's many eyes turn toward it before most of them shut. If he just... talks through it, he thinks he'll chill out more. Unfortunately, Rosso's idea of talking through things is rather morbid, since he has no filter at the best of times. Therefore—]
The multiple eyes are itchy. [Gross.] They fucking... popped up under some of my clothes, and the fabric texture makes them itch. And the goddamn scales itch, and having mud in literally everywhere itches.
[The ones on his wing, spine, thighs, et cetera — they move to "look" at the things Rosso looks at, in a horribly uncanny sort of way. But they don't see anything. It's something of a saving grace.]
I've got kaleidoscope vision from just that, though. It's disorienting as shit, going from one eye to three.
[Rosso moves the small, vestigial wing covering the side of his face where his eyepatch normally is — the eye sockets on that side are all empty, to match the usual empty one. He takes it as a sick joke from the Fog, to be honest. She was able to put working eyes on one side of his face but not the other? What the fuck's that about?]
[...man. Adrian has seen Rosso's eye before now, it's not a shock seeing it again. But seeing it still empty, even when he has multiple eyes on the other side? It's like some kind of cruel joke, and he's not laughing. Like, there's a small blessing in the fact that the other eyes are sightless- he's pretty sure that would be too disorienting to be able to stand- but still...
Adrian hunches over a little, his wings curving even further around Rosso protectively.]
I can imagine. M'sorry shit can't ever just be normal.
[Just let Rosso be normal for once, he's begging.]
[The vestigial wing ends up over his face again in time. If Rosso doesn't think about what's underneath it, he can at least admit it's kind of a cool eyepatch. He's not sure if he'd prefer it this way or not; having his sight changed at all after five hundred years tends to fuck with him, and either way, he was getting brand new depth perception out of this arrangement.]
Every day's something new. [But it's the same on Elrios, too.] I don't think I'll burn the house down... probably. I need a bath. Stuff's starting to itch like crazy.
[Thigh eyeballs should not itch but here they fucking are. Does he need, like... eyedrops for these things?]
[Rosso's been out here suffering for long enough. And if he thinks he's okay going inside? Then they're going inside.
He brushes his hand over Rosso's hair one more time, then decides to...you know, ask for once before he just slings him over his shoulder like a bag of potatoes.]
Want me to carry you?
[If he thinks he can walk, that's fine, but...you know.]
...yeah. Not 'cause I can't walk, I just don't feel like it.
[No, he wants to be held by his large feathery boyfriend, thank you very much. He'll bother to sit up, though, to make himself easier to scoop. Mind the giant wings, they're just out here. Rosso hasn't figured out how to make them lie completely flat yet.]
Throw me into the tub so I don't get muck all over the floors, too.
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flammadecinis) wrote2022-05-15 03:26 pm
no subject
All of that isn't why he's run off. The reason Rosso takes off — delirious with pain, unable to properly see while the blood runs down his face into the extra set of eyes on his cheeks — is because he can feel the telltale prickle of his old magic at the back of his neck. And he knows, better than anyone ever could, that the second he loses control, the treehouse will go up in flames. And he can't. He can't, he cannot let that happen.
Rosso doesn't know fear. Not really. But for the first time in years, he thinks he's feeling it claw its way down his spine and take root in his heart, a sticky spiderweb that he can't clear away.
He doesn't bother getting dressed by the time he heads down to the lake, which means he's still in his pyjamas — a baggy, cropped T-shirt and spandex shorts, and when Rosso is coherent again he'll thank past-him for never getting fancy pyjamas because he's bled through the white of the shirt. He feels the fire coming long before it actually makes its way to the surface, and by the time he makes it to the water's edge, the reeds are alight and the only thing stopping the crimson flame from spreading is the muddy bank. They'll burn out in time, but for now, smoke rises and whirls in the air, and Rosso is burying himself in a foot of water, sitting down in it with his hands shoved into the mud and his legs bent and clawed feet out behind him.
Ordinarily, he'd hear Adrian calling for him. Today, his werewolf hearing is gone, his sense of smell dulled, and the only thing he can hear is his pulse rushing in his ears. The surface of the water is boiling; Rosso is sweating, breathing like he's just run a marathon, and no matter how much he wills himself to calm down, the panic doesn't ebb.
...
At the treehouse, Alisha heads for the door, screaming at Adrian to follow her. She can sense exactly where he is.]
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He's honestly about ready to just explode into the forest in any random direction, following the blood trail until he can't any longer, until he hears Alisha crying out again. He turns to look at her, the feathers along his neck and shoulders bristling.]
...take me to 'im. Hurry.
[From there, well. Alisha better hope she's fast on those little wings of hers, because limbs snap and bushes are crushed under talon and claw as Adrian follows after her, periodically hollaring Rosso's name between breaths. But there's nothing. Nothing. Did he go to Bavan, or further? Merain? The mountains?
The lake isn't so far that Adrian can spin too many wild theories, but it definitely gives him enough time to get agitated enough. In the end, he catches smoke and ash on the wind long before he actually sees anything, shouldering through the undergrowth until making it out to the edge of Lake Dala itself.
There. He spots a figure huddled over the water's edge, charred grasses surrounding them, their front half partially submerged. He doesn't know what to think, just that the fire is concerning enough...
And the fact that Rosso's shape isn't right is even moreso.]
...Ainen?
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He doesn't know what kind of creature he became. There's a long track in the mud and grass from where his too-long tail has woven through it, and he glances over his shoulder toward Adrian. Three eyes blink out of sync, and Rosso just looks... tired. His horns, which he hasn't had since Felfri, are heavy on his head. The firey halo looped around them is a constant reminder of his magic, even if it doesn't burn, even if it's showy and nothing else.]
Don't. I... [am covered in blood, and the water is literally bubbling around his forearms as the fire in the reeds surges,] I'm too... the fucking fire is back, Adri.
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He swallows hard, sinking back on his haunches for a moment. Even from here, he can see the water bubbling and hissing underneath Rosso's touch, literally boiling just through sheer contact alone. The fact that what kind of monster he is exactly not being clear is only exacerbating the issue, likely leaving Rosso feeling like this is the fire. His fire. The same fire that's leveled buildings, rendering everything inside- people, objects, doesn't matter- to ash.]
...just stay where you are. I'm right here.
[He doesn't tell him "calm down" or "it's going to be okay", because neither of those things are helpful right now. One thing at a time.]
Are you hurt?
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[So, yeah, he's staying where he is. Wings spread but slackened, fleshy tips buried in the bank. The eyes on his thighs underneath the water itch, but he ignores it, because there are far more important things going on right now. If he's in the water, he can focus on that, and not the magic he can't control. Not on his emotions, or his heavy breathing, or the sweat on his skin as he tries and tries and tries to keep it under control.]
I'm not hurt. Fog's already repaired the new bits. Just... need to get it under control. That's all.
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Over, and over, and over again.
After a minute of silent observation, as Adrian notes that Rosso...isn't calming down, he moves to his feet again. He's already talking as he approaches, because he knows what Rosso is going to say. What he must be thinking, irrationally.]
I'm gonna be okay...a'ight? Fire...can't hurt me anymore.
[He says that lowly as his steps meander closer, until he's just a foot away. He can feel the heat radiating off Rosso in waves, so intense that it's warping the air around him, but it's not enough to make him shy away. He thinks if he tried to touch him right now, his feathers would likely burn away to nothing...so he doesn't. Instead, he hunkers down as close as he dares, able to look better at Rosso's face by staring at his distorted reflction in the water.]
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When Adrian sits, the reeds bloom with a bright flame, but the added heat is enough to fully burn them away. The crimson dissipates and leaves behind only whorls of smoke, wafting their way into the air.
Rosso stares down into the water.]
...even mine? [Maybe it's not as awful now, since he's here and not there. It's just Fog-granted Ryslig Fire and not... his. Not entirely, despite the deceptive red tinge to the flames and the fact he can feel the lack of control. Not his. But his.] I just need... a minute. Need to calm down. I was trying not to burn the fucking house down. I can't...
[His tail shifts behind him, an irritated thump.]
I can't control this.
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You can.
[Adrian says that firmly. Not...pushy, or aggressive, but also nothing like a limp-wristed false promise. If Rosso is going to deal with this, it's going to be through his own merits, or nothing at all.]
This ain't your fire, Ainen. Whatever it is...it's magic from this place. Like what I got.
[They have to believe that, otherwise...
Otherwise, they're in really big trouble.
He shifts a bit, his much-larger wings folding at his back.]
You look like a Gargoyle. [Kiiiiiind....of.] So it's gotta be that, yeah?
Even if it feels like you can't right now, you'll get it handled eventually. We'll make sure you do, you hear me?
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[There's a surge, suddenly, somewhere deep within him. A spike of frustration mixed with a warning, and then the clouds overhead warp and lightning suddenly strikes down on the bank on the opposite side of the shore. Rosso actually jolts at that, backing up out of the water, thinking he might get electrocuted.
Oh no. Oh no no no, that better not have been him. That better not have been new fucking magic!
He slumps and, already a mess, simply chooses to lie down on the bank in the mud and grass and cinders of reeds. He's covered in his own blood, what's one more thing to add to it? ...and he learns the hard way he needs to close the eyes on his back when he does this. Eugh.]
I'm fucking tired. I don't want... this. I don't want it! All I want is to be me, god dammit.
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Seems like Rosso isn't the only one thinking that.
But it's over as quickly as it happened, and Adrian realizes maybe that was the wrong thing to say. He feels his heart sink as he watches Rosso sink down into the mud, as if it would all just swallow him up and make what's happening to him stop. Adrian would fistfight god if he had to to stop it, but it seems like there's nothing much that can be done.
And that really, really sucks.]
Jagi.
[Adrian manages quietly after a moment, inching just a little closer. He wants to reach for him, but he's scared touching him right now might just make Rosso more upset.]
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Aegiya.
[Rosso's skin is very, very hot, but he reaches out and puts a claw on Adrian's hand. He wonders if he's going to burn the guy, like he did to Elsword and Ventus years ago. His hands shake when he thinks of it, or maybe that's simply the chill of cold water as it evaporates on his skin. He doesn't know.]
I think I cooked the fish in the lake.
[He's not joking, really, but he's trying to deflect. To hide from those emotions he dislikes so strongly, otherwise there's going to be another fire somewhere less-controlled.]
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[Cooking all of the fish in the lake is probably....bbbbad? It's bad. But it's no worse than some of the worse things that lake has probably seen. Adrian would be shocked to learn that there are any fish left at all, come to think of it.
Adrian watches Rosso tentatively as he places a claw on his hand, just barely brushing his knuckles, and undoubtedly he can feel the sensation of heat. Yet...it's not burning him, not in any kind of way that would cause him real harm. Even the proximity, despite the way the air warps around Rosso, isn't bothering him.
And so, he'll shift his own claws a little, moving to sort of...wrap one of his fingers around Rosso's claw. Pinky-in-pinky, more or less.
He's not burning. He's still alive.]
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Adrian doesn't burn. Adrian is fine, he's not singed, he's not on fire, and Rosso can only exhale a relieved-sounding sigh. He scoots a bit closer through the dirt, accepting the finger-hold for now.]
It doesn't hurt you, does it? I— I used to run so hot that no one could touch me without blistering.
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[His hand shifts just a little, edging a bit closer to Rosso's though he doesn't actually take his hand proper. He's respecting his space at the moment, not wanting to push for too much too quickly.]
It ain't burnin' me.
[What goes unsaid is that if Adrian didn't have this power already...it would have.]
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Rosso, covered in blood and dirt and soot, scoots further and further, until he can lay his head on Adrian's lap.]
You look dumb as hell. [It's a half-hearted joke.] I don't want to burn your stupid little feathers off, or you'll look like a naked chicken.
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Would you still love me if I was a naked chicken?
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...yeah. After all this shit? You looking like a naked chicken is probably the least of my concerns.
[Rosso huffs out a little breath. It's warm, but it's not fire.]
I'm covered in my own blood and lake gunk. I'm sure I look like shit right now.
I was trying to wait for u to get through some tags but I can't ignore these Rossos any longer
Yeah, kinda.
[It feels strange, not having parts he's been used to for some time. Like his tail, which has been replaced with tailfeathers that can't move anywhere as freely. He'll compromise by draping a wing around them both, which he's noticing is actually quite larger than his wings as a Manticore.]
But we'll get you cleaned up when we get back home.
never wait
The multiple eyes are itchy. [Gross.] They fucking... popped up under some of my clothes, and the fabric texture makes them itch. And the goddamn scales itch, and having mud in literally everywhere itches.
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[Gross! Ew! What the fuck why do you suddenly have eyeballs all over you bro-
But you know, Adrian wasn't going to, uh. Bring it up unless Rosso did first, which he did, so it's fine.]
Can they.....see? Are you okay?
[He cannot imagine being able to see out of 12 pairs of eyes would feel good.]
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[The ones on his wing, spine, thighs, et cetera — they move to "look" at the things Rosso looks at, in a horribly uncanny sort of way. But they don't see anything. It's something of a saving grace.]
I've got kaleidoscope vision from just that, though. It's disorienting as shit, going from one eye to three.
[Rosso moves the small, vestigial wing covering the side of his face where his eyepatch normally is — the eye sockets on that side are all empty, to match the usual empty one. He takes it as a sick joke from the Fog, to be honest. She was able to put working eyes on one side of his face but not the other? What the fuck's that about?]
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Adrian hunches over a little, his wings curving even further around Rosso protectively.]
I can imagine. M'sorry shit can't ever just be normal.
[Just let Rosso be normal for once, he's begging.]
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Every day's something new. [But it's the same on Elrios, too.] I don't think I'll burn the house down... probably. I need a bath. Stuff's starting to itch like crazy.
[Thigh eyeballs should not itch but here they fucking are. Does he need, like... eyedrops for these things?]
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[Rosso's been out here suffering for long enough. And if he thinks he's okay going inside? Then they're going inside.
He brushes his hand over Rosso's hair one more time, then decides to...you know, ask for once before he just slings him over his shoulder like a bag of potatoes.]
Want me to carry you?
[If he thinks he can walk, that's fine, but...you know.]
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[No, he wants to be held by his large feathery boyfriend, thank you very much. He'll bother to sit up, though, to make himself easier to scoop. Mind the giant wings, they're just out here. Rosso hasn't figured out how to make them lie completely flat yet.]
Throw me into the tub so I don't get muck all over the floors, too.
[just yeet him]
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