[ the truth is, it's a little hard to look at ernesto nowadays.
there's a similar sense of — maybe not safety, in keeping a friend close. but this is now a second time that there are kenoma in godsblood, and despite the prevention of vaeka's execution, there's nothing really stopping them from returning, from lingering now. is there? rand knows so well how easy it can be for aions with the kenoma to blend in and pretend to be ordinary people of this world. see if he ever trusts a stranger again.
but, it's just. grateful as he is for what akua and ernesto did for him, and of course he is, the light knows how much the idea of being carted to achamoth had terrified him, still does, haunts his dreams — he can't help feeling guilty about that broken arm. he would have anyway. but knowing it'd happened for his sake, after ciel's warning about what can happen to the people around him...
not that there's any relief in going back to his apartment, dread weighing heavy on his heart, until he sees eleanor. alive and almost well, cheerfully talking about an accident, but it's not so bad, don't make that face, and what did happen to him recently? and when is he next coming to dinner? — had been so unbearable as to strengthen his resolve to leave. she'd been confused by his apology, by the hug he couldn't stop himself from giving, by his departure, but. it's for the best. it's for the best.
is coming back here such a good idea? but the least he can do, he reminds himself, is help ernesto while he's recovering. it is the smallest of decencies to try to balance the scales. he owes his friend that much right now.
and what comes later, will be a problem for later. ]
It's me,
[ he calls as he opens the door, shuts and locks it behind him. he doesn't have much, all told; a bag with a couple of sets of clothes, some money he's saved, odds and ends. the place he'd stayed was small (but still the largest space he's ever had to himself), and he'd never been the type to need much. he approaches, dropping the bag near the couch, and leans against one of the arms. even taking that much weight off his leg is a relief; unthinkingly, he spins the same small weave around it that he's done now and again recently, supporting himself better. ]
It was fine. No one was there.
[ no one was waiting there for him, that is. a real danger with ciel — and anyone she's told — knowing as much as she does about his life here. ]
no subject
there's a similar sense of — maybe not safety, in keeping a friend close. but this is now a second time that there are kenoma in godsblood, and despite the prevention of vaeka's execution, there's nothing really stopping them from returning, from lingering now. is there? rand knows so well how easy it can be for aions with the kenoma to blend in and pretend to be ordinary people of this world. see if he ever trusts a stranger again.
but, it's just. grateful as he is for what akua and ernesto did for him, and of course he is, the light knows how much the idea of being carted to achamoth had terrified him, still does, haunts his dreams — he can't help feeling guilty about that broken arm. he would have anyway. but knowing it'd happened for his sake, after ciel's warning about what can happen to the people around him...
not that there's any relief in going back to his apartment, dread weighing heavy on his heart, until he sees eleanor. alive and almost well, cheerfully talking about an accident, but it's not so bad, don't make that face, and what did happen to him recently? and when is he next coming to dinner? — had been so unbearable as to strengthen his resolve to leave. she'd been confused by his apology, by the hug he couldn't stop himself from giving, by his departure, but. it's for the best. it's for the best.
is coming back here such a good idea? but the least he can do, he reminds himself, is help ernesto while he's recovering. it is the smallest of decencies to try to balance the scales. he owes his friend that much right now.
and what comes later, will be a problem for later. ]
It's me,
[ he calls as he opens the door, shuts and locks it behind him. he doesn't have much, all told; a bag with a couple of sets of clothes, some money he's saved, odds and ends. the place he'd stayed was small (but still the largest space he's ever had to himself), and he'd never been the type to need much. he approaches, dropping the bag near the couch, and leans against one of the arms. even taking that much weight off his leg is a relief; unthinkingly, he spins the same small weave around it that he's done now and again recently, supporting himself better. ]
It was fine. No one was there.
[ no one was waiting there for him, that is. a real danger with ciel — and anyone she's told — knowing as much as she does about his life here. ]