13 . autumn catch-all

[necrolord]

Who: John Gaius and company.
What: After a rough summer, the King Undying lays low.
When: September - October
Where: Mostly Gaze.

Content Warnings: Tagged in headers as needed. Note all the usual warnings of this character.

Comments

cw: gory healing

[necrolord]

[ John smooths a hand up his shoulder, toward the nape of his neck, just above the wreckage of the boy's back. Though he doesn't touch it directly, there is a sudden kick of power, forceful as a solar flare— and the wounds begin to knit together.

It doesn't hurt, exactly. It doesn't not hurt. John plucks at the back of Robby's jacket to tug its strips free of the closing gashes, which makes for a uniquely weird sensation. There is a layer of stripped wet skin and flesh that gets shucked, matted with the shreds of his shirt, to make way for new growth underneath.

John just claps him on the shoulder and starts moving, even if he's largely the thing keeping Robby upright. ]

Well, you got the job done. Might be a little more careful of the claws next time.

[strongroots]

[ The sound he makes from the sensation - a performance he can't actually see at work - is somewhere close to one would make stepping on a lego with a baby sleeping in the room. It hurts, it's weird, which already was describing everything already, but Robby will attempt to swallow down the displeasure than openly complain, or think.

Really, he doesn't know what to think. There's a dull thumping in his head that's not actually a headache, one in his chest; everything is wet, and this guy couldn't be any more the picture of perfect casual. That's not getting questioned; Robby will take the opportunity for them to just walk and kind of figure what's going on in his head and what he's supposed to say.

There's things he should, right. Maybe a 'thank you', but that will take another while for him to figure out it's deserved. ]

--I don't know why I did that. I've never done that.

[ He'll settle on that instead. Somewhat a lie (the former part), yet not. Can both be true? ]

[necrolord]

[ He lets the kid lean on him for as long as he needs, and doesn't protest when Robby figures out his own unsteady pace. He keeps his eyes on the forest ahead, his stride calm and unbroken. ]

This place does that to you.

[ He says it with the same ease, but his expression has gone distant again. ]

It adds pressure until the pressure boils up. Could've gone worse, but it could've gone better. I'm not in much position to judge you for it.

[ He is, after all, the guy who stabbed the ocean. ]

[strongroots]

[ He'll walk with this own weight, once it feels right; somewhere along when he recognises his aching isn't actually there anymore, a phantom pain receding -- this time, he'll give a quiet "thanks".

But everything else, that stays tilted, not right. There's blood sticking to him, the exhaustion of the effort; there's a man's body left to rest in an abandoned shack in some place he doesn't belong, and if Robby thinks too much, that's where his mind goes. The anger sparks. He feels something close to glad for what he did.

That's not what he wants. ]

Yeah? [ He says, a little delayed. A small pause, and honestly: ] I think I'd pick being in juvie over being here right now. Shitty take out food. [ ... ] That shower-- a shower sounds good.

[ He's trying to grasp onto anything that isn't everything that just happened. ]

[necrolord]

[ His smile isn't much of one, just a wry tilt of the mouth in acknowledgment. His pace remains steady. ]

Shower it is. [ And: ] Maybe see if we can find something to eat that isn't fish and mushrooms, while we're at it. Not that I'm against fish and mushrooms, but I'm with you: we're not getting a lot of variety.

[ It's the light tone of a man who is deeply, profoundly accustomed to shooting the shit while a body cools. He's content to talk about nothing all the way back. He's always been good at that. ]