deercountry | alive! (derogatory)

Entry tags:

alive! (derogatory)

Who: Childe and Manabu
What: Manabu respawns in Childe's dead-person ice box
When: End of October
Where: Childe's kitchen

Content Warnings: Body horrorx100, body morphing animorphs-style, death mentions, asphyxiation, gross auditory cues, emetophobia

The darkness is only comforting when there's suddenly something to contrast it.

No more peaceful oceans to glide through with a sense of security and purpose, no trees and soft meadows and fruit, no distant echoes of babbling waters...none of that follows the darkness this time. This time...it's the burning awareness of cold as the numbness wears off.

It's so cold. Too cold to move, to even breathe...

Because he can't.

I can't breathe!

Manabu's return is fast, almost comically fast by comparison to how long his body had laid dormant. There's barely a chance to even come to terms with the sudden sense of self before the matter of being unable to breathe becomes the sole focus. After all, squids are sea-creatures - coming back to life in an ice box full of crystalized blood and matter and...well, ice, isn't really going to cut it.

Wh-what's going on?! It's--it's so cold. I can't breathe! Am I dying?

Someone! Help! Help me!

Amidst the panic, he doesn't realize that the high-pitched noises are his - burgeoning attempts at the formation of vocal chords to give his thoughts a voice. Kind of hard in the fluctuating state he's in, and it won't get any prettier as it progresses. And progress it does! Manabu is blind through most all of it, and that in of itself is likely a blessing, because he is not a pretty sight, especially if what he sounds like is any indication. Underneath the shrieking is squelching, schlorping, and crunching as flailing tentacles start to meld together, as bones start to form inside.

The acoustics in this place are lovely; they really carry the sounds of pure, primal anguish and terror and unholy morphing in progress. That is, after the unholy pounding on the ice box door finally proves enough to pop that top right off and expose this nightmare to the open air.

...Which he still can't breathe.

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Everyday, the Harbinger would check on Manabu to see if he'd come back. Day after day, the body lie motionless in the box he'd put it in. Clothing that Michael had brought over a few weeks prior sat on top of the second ice box he had to buy in order to store food, waiting for their owner to return from the dead. The apartment that Childe resides in isn't a large one. He doesn't that much space, even if he's used to having more.

Which is why when the pounding starts, it's easy to hear. Childe is sitting in his living room, getting ready to start his day when he hears the thump thump thump and the sudden shrieking coming from his kitchen. It startles him, leaping from the chair and running into the kitchen to see something horrifying.

A partial squid, slowly morphing into a human that seems to be gasping, fingers at the end of tentacles...it's one horror after another. Manabu's managed to pop the top right off of the box and...is that teeth forming on an otherwise pink and squishy squid body?

"Ah...he can't breathe!" He yells at himself, rushing over to pick up the part-squid part-human part-abomination from the abyss. As he scoops Manabu up, it's hard to get a hold of him due to how slimy he is, and the sounds that come from bone fusing are going to give him nightmares for at least a week.

Childe dashes for the bathroom. That's where Diluc hung out while he was a squid, seems like a good enough place right now to get Manabu in some water.

It's not an easy ride: This thing that Manabu tentatively is has very little awareness of his place, and the imposition upon his writhing form, the sense of movement, it all is cause to flail, so some of those nightmare finger-tendrils are going to slap indiscriminately - but mostly harmlessly - in their confusion.

Only one of two eyes has a pupil with which to dilate, and it does so while it squishes out of its fishier form and rides up the length of the fast-changing body, beholding a messy blur of information Manabu's nowhere near ready to process.

It's a win-lose-win situation, for as water fills in the tub he's dropped in, gills only get a few seconds to enjoy fulfilling their purpose before they wither and smooth back into the pale form. By then he's at least no longer translucent, so Childe doesn't have to watch all the organs blooming and reconfiguring in the abdomen that's getting sculpted out of this burgeoning form.

There's a reprieve from the screeching, but it's replaced by an unpleasant, strained sound as, once a neck is properly shaped to separate a head from torso, there's a bulging in the throat, and a sickening cocktail of ink, bile, water, and...who-even-knows-what tries to expel itself all at once from the newly formed lungs.

As he carries Manabu, he sees one of the squid tendrils flail with absolutely no direction or meaning other than confusion. There's little he can do to stop it and he taking squid slaps to the face as he rushes to the bathroom.

"Agh!" He has to close his eyes for a moment, afraid that tendrils with fingers might catch him in the eye, and that is something he doesn't really need right now. The door is kicked open, and he dumps Manabu in the tub and immediately slams the water on. Childe finally finds a towel and wipes some of the squid goo off his face, never imagining that this was how this was going to go. His ears hurt from the screeching, but thankfully that secedes once he's in the water.

It's hard to watch the transformation that Manabu undergoes as he regains his human form. It's so much faster than Diluc, who had been stuck as a squid for some time. The transformation looks painful from his perspective, and even he has to wince once Manabu throws up that concoction that darkens the water and makes him have to hold his nose. The cracking of bones and sickening pops as skin divides into something more human will be a noise he never forgets.

He hits the switch to turn the fan on, not that it helps a whole lot. He doesn't want to leave, in case something goes awry, but at the same time it feels wrong to stand here and watch. But at least he has to do something, and so he kneels down next to the tub and holds up the soft tissue of where Manabu's head will form so he won't breathe water into his new lungs.

It's probably a mercy that things are moving so fast, because Childe likely doesn't want to be cradling a malformed shape in such flux for very long at all. That's cold comfort when he has to be present at all for this freak show, probably...

And speaking of cold, Manabu's freezing: Where he's not submerged in the rising water, the lingering water and other fluids freeze into little frosty patterns on his skin. Now that he can actually breathe, it's more coughing the residual gunk from his throat and lungs, the strangled wheezing and disoriented sounds of a voice just starting to come back.

Two arms, two legs, fingers and toes starting to come to proper quantities, all of them no longer flailing, just twitching and shivering. Eventually, there's no energy left to cough and Manabu, now far more Manabu than monstrosity, sags and settles with a groan.

He lets go of the back of his head, satisfied that he's transformed enough to not need assistance any longer. He can see the result of his blood reacting with the water on his skin, the frost showing up on his skin. That's not good, and Childe gets up quickly to get Manabu a few towels. Thankfully they're right in the small closet in his bathroom, grabbing them and turning the water off.

"Manabu," he says slowly, "can you understand me? Here." He waits for the water to drain mostly before draping both towels over him, then stepping back to give him some breathing room.

He has ears again, but the sounds don't make a lot of sense right away. It'd been panic and strangled noises and the chattering teeth and clicking bones, and then...

Manabu.

Huh...?

Can you understand me?

That's...my name...

"Hh--" His throat hurts, hard to talk, hard to form words...! "Hhrh-?"

His head turns, his good eye looking around at the bleary, blurry world around him, trying to search out the sound as towels settle on his frosted-over skin.

"Ha. Alright, well that's a good sign at least."

He hadn't forgotten his own transformation from the depths when they'd first arrived. He couldn't remember his own name, and could barely speak with Diluc for several minutes after being pulled from the ocean. He smiles and holds a finger up. Wait a moment, he'll be right back.

He leaves the bathroom, returning a minute later with Manabu's clothing and a glass of water. He sets both on the counter, and takes a seat on the closed toilet.

"Welcome back. Can you sit up?"

Not right away, no, and that's made clear by the feeble writhing that follows, petering off with a shudder. That's the best Manabu can do for a few minutes as lucidity starts to settle in and he becomes reacquainted with having a form again.

Cold... Everything hurts...why...?

Who's...talking...?

He searches around again, fixing back on Childe's hazy form. Fair skin, red hair...

Louis...?

There's a second attempt to speak that yields nothing but confused vocalizations, but it at least does come with him partly sitting up.

Grabbing the glass of water next to him, he puts it in front of Manabu's mouth, to let him drink a little. The transformation is rough, and he is unsure of how his body is handling it. But dehydration is something he'd like to avoid, and waiting too long could prove detrimental.

"Alright, good. Take little sips, if you can. Don't breathe it in, it's water."

He tips the glass ever so slightly, as to not overwhelm Manabu with trying to drink. That is, if his body still remembers how to drink.

It's not a graceful process, and there is a moment there where Manabu seems determined to do the opposite before it clicks in and what hasn't been choked on or spilled gets greedily gulped up and punctuated with a gasp, petering out into shaky panting.

When blinking alone doesn't do it, Manabu manages to get a hand up out of the towels to rub the film out of his eye and finally get things into focus and discover...

That's not Louis...

Words are still a ways away, so Childe will have to suffice hearing a very confused noise as Manabu squints up at him in abject bewilderment.

Childe responds by waving a hand in greeting. He's not sure if the confused noise was because Manabu didn't recognize him at first or if he's confused that Childe would even take the time to make sure he was okay, but it really doesn't matter either way. He turns, refills the glass in the sink and hands it over to Manabu. It seems he has some kind of motor control over at least one of his hands, so he'll try to get Manabu drink himself now.

"Here's some more. Drink up, there's plenty more where that came from."

It's hard to argue because he can't, and despite the questions burning away inside, filling his added head, there's not much else he can do but throw back another glass. Second time around's easier, though he nearly drops the glass with fumbling fingers.

"Wh..." Why does he feel so out of sorts?

He takes the glass and sets it back up on the counter, giving Manabu more time to slowly pull himself together. If he wants more water, he's sure he can at least indicate it, and he'll gladly get more for him. That's another good sign that he seems to be already working towards being able to form words, so he feels good about giving Manabu his privacy now.

"Your clothes are here right on the counter. When you're ready, put them on and meet me out in the living room. I'll come to check on you periodically, just to make sure you haven't passed out. I'll answer any questions you may have once you're coherent enough to ask."

Standing, he leaves the bathroom for now, heading into the kitchen to quickly prepare some leftover dumplings he'd made from the night before. Something bland would probably be the best for him right now.

Manabu will appreciate the privacy later, even if the moment he's in is so disorienting and scary. For now, his focus is shifting to simple things like...the uncomfortable looseness of his limbs, the uneasy way water settles in his stomach, the porcelain around him...

He doesn't so much 'ready up' for most of that time as he does 'fumble and drop onto the bathroom floor and lay there for a while in a fugue state and cry a little from sheer confusion and fear.' Sometimes a reconstituted person just...needs a little quiet time to be extremely overwhelmed with the burden of existing all over again.

That certainly leaves Childe plenty of time to not only prepare those dumplings, but idle around as he pleases. An hour, if he likes! Because Manabu's meeting with the floor goes a bit well over time, and then there's the matter of reacquainting himself with his limbs and trying to get them to cooperate enough to make clothes work.

This is going to be a process.

Edited 2021-11-01 02:27 (UTC)

He definitely doesn't wait an hour to check up on Manabu. About fifteen minutes in, he pops his head in and makes sure Manabu hasn't cracked his skull open or hurt himself. Every ten minutes after that he does this. At some point, he can hear quiet sobs from the bathroom, and his head pops in once again to see Manabu lying on the floor. He instantly leaves as quickly as he'd come to check up on him, giving Manabu the time to himself to come to terms with the fact that he was alive again and still getting used to his own body.

About forty-five minutes in, he'll knock on the door gently and call to him.

"Hey, are you doing alright in there?"

By then, Manabu's sitting upright with towels all over his sprawled-out legs and his arms in the sleeves of his button-up shirt and...that's about it. He's at least far more lucid, but no less bewildered and troubled by the circumstance, and even has a mind to flush with some self-consciousness when Childe calls and all he can do is offer some kind of uncertain uttering. His tongue still won't make words happen and he's really not okay with that.

Since Manabu is unable to actually answer the question yet, Childe looks inside to make sure he's alright. Bottom half covered with towels, shirt is at least on...okay, that's good. He quickly ducks his head back out of the bathroom, feeling a little better that Manabu has his motor functions coming back slowly.

"Take as much time as you need, okay? I've got something for you to eat too. I'll be back in another ten minutes in case you need something. You're doing very well for having just come back to us. You'll be back to normal soon."

Right... Well, he may not have all his mobility back, but at least Childe's letting him keep some dignity and what little autonomy he can muster. It'll mean more in hindsight.

Take your time is as much a fire under his ass as any amount of confusion, because like hell is Manabu Yuuki going to let himself sit around at other people's expense! So despite of and in spite of the hurdles, he sets his sight on pants and makes that the next goal. Shirt buttons? No. Not right now. Shirt's on, buttons are for later.

Ten minutes about the right amount of time before he has to accept the fact he can't do this by himself and shoot Childe a discouraged look when next he appears, followed by a reluctant lifting of a hand. He can't get to his feet on his own, so there's only so much progress he can make.

His head pops in once more, finding that Manabu is asking for help. His eyes shoot over to the clear attempts to put pants on, the item of clothing sitting around the bottom of his legs as he clearly couldn't get up to put them on properly. Stepping in, he makes sure a towel is over Manabu's privates before taking the pants completely off and setting them onto the counter once more.

"Alright. Let's get you up and we can get your undergarments and pants on. Think you can grab a hold of my shoulder?"

It's a little awkward, but he grabs Manabu right under his armpits and lifts him up to his feet. Childe then grabs the clean pair of underwear, holding them open.

"Try to step into them. If you can't, we'll figure out something else."

It's a slow and graceless process, but with Childe's help, Manabu's finally able to get onto his feet and get some damn clothes on. The blessing of being inarticulate now is Manabu can't openly grumble about how this kind of thing is like being a toddler again, which would put Childe on the same level as his mom and that's just...not the tone anyone wants to deal with right now.

Despite everything, Manabu can huff with some small semblance of relief in at least looking like something of a whole person again, even if he doesn't quite feel like one. His head bobs in a show of gratitude, brow still pinched with the effort it's taking just to stay upright and his hand still clinging onto Childe's shoulder for balance.

Once the underwear are on, Childe moves to help him get his pants on. He has a lot of patience to help him accomplish these tasks. He had to take care of his own siblings too; this doesn't feel that much different than that, even if Manabu isn't family. If he can't zip his own zipper, Childe will do it for him, with no complaints.

"Alright. You can continue to lean on me for support, since your legs still seem a little shaky. Let's walk out to the couch and get you settled there for the time being."

It's not a large apartment, and the living room is just down a very short hallway. He opens the door, to lead Manabu down it and right to the old Victorian-esque couch. He'll gently help him sit down on it, so he can rest. He doesn't know what shape his muscles are in right now, so best to play it safe.

Squids never needed leg day, and he was only one of those for all of ten minutes, and before that? Well, Manabu wasn't really doing much moving at all, was he? Needless to say, the help is much needed. Manabu struggles along and flops onto the couch with a grunt and a couple testing coughs to try and get something more than grunts.

"Hrh--wh--" He rubs at his throat, grimacing. "Why...?"

That's not a bad question, and it's easy to vocalize. One syllable.

"Heh, well..."

What a question that was. How does he even start? It was clear if Manabu was asking why, then he hasn't regained those memories yet. Along with a lot of others, he thinks, as was how dying and returning to a squid went. It seemed this process was different for everyone, and Childe has no idea what Manabu can even remember at this point. And asking wasn't going to help until he was able to form complete sentences.

"You ran into some trouble a few weeks ago. It didn't end well," he explains, tapping his chin. "I don't know how much you can remember, but you transformed into something dangerous- something terrifying beyond words. I had to kill you to stop whatever had taken over your body. And afterwards, I took your body to ensure nothing else happened to it. And well, now you're here."

"Eh...?"

That's the best and most Manabu can answer with, even after the good thirty, forty seconds to try and process that. His response plays more on his features, which shift and scrunch with the effort of trying to remember...and the dread of hearing of just what went down.

I had to kill you, Childe says, with no pauses or frills. I took your body.

Manabu's already pretty white from being a coldblood, but his features drop as one's would when paling in quiet horror.

"N..." No. He shakes his head. He doesn't remember anything like that!

"I figured you probably wouldn't remember. There's a lot more details, of course, but it might not be the best idea to delve into them right now. Wait here for a moment."

He gets up, and crosses the room to go into the kitchen momentarily. He's gone for only a minute or so, before coming back with two big bowls full of traditional Snezhnayan dumplings he'd made en masse, and another container of sour cream he was balancing on his arm. He's thankful he'd made extras now.

He sets one of the bowls down in front of Manabu, not expecting him to eat from it right away of course. He quickly goes back into the kitchen to grab a small bowl, a spoon and water for the both of them. He scoops out some of the sour cream into the bowl, and places that next to Manabu's bowl of dumplings.

"I don't know if you're hungry, but these are dumplings from my hometown. I figured that silverware might be a bit much right now, so you can dip the dumplings in the sour cream in this little bowl instead of making you use a fork. I wasn't sure if you liked sour cream, but I suggest you try it with it anyhow."

"..."

In most any other circumstance, what Childe sets before him would be nothing but appetizing. Hell, it looks like stuff he'd see his mom make back home! But right now...

Right now...Manabu feels like throwing up. And he--wait, he had, hadn't he? In the tub. He shivers at the sudden recollection, his mouth pulling in a deeper frown despite politely nodding in compulsory politeness.

"Why," he murmurs again, just before swallowing back on the metallic feeling in the back of his throat. "Why's...nh..." A little frustrated, he rubs at his face and scalp.

Childe won't be offended if Manabu doesn't eat anything at all, it's there just in case. He hasn't touched his own food yet either, not sure if there was anything else that could be done save for waiting. He does notice that Manabu doesn't move to eat either.

"No need to rush it now, just keep working at your speech and it'll slowly come back." He doesn't know if that's true, but frustration won't help. "Are you trying to ask me why this all happened?"

It's the best he can try to guess at, hoping that at least he's somewhere near the mark. It has to be incredibly confusing to not know why one's suddenly woken up in an ice box, reconfiguring one's self back into a human from a squid.

He looks up and gives a small nod, uttering an affirmative sound through his nose. Childe at least asks more eloquently than he would've if he could.

Nodding, he takes a moment to figure out how he wants to phrase this. It's not a pretty story, and if anything it's going to be rather upsetting.

"A curse spread through town, and it took advantage of those who were feeling lonely, or in my case, homesick. It took the form of a shadowy corpse that would follow people around...and if they weren't helped, or if it wasn't enough help, that shadow took them over, corrupting them...or worse."

Pausing, he takes a sip of water while he pushes back those awful feelings that he'd suffered through himself during that time.

"Yours, well...yours got the better of you. It was using you like a puppet, and there was no way at the time to separate you from the shadow. So the only way to get rid of it was to kill the host."

The glass is set down on the coffee table in front of them. Childe doesn't look like he regrets doing what he did, but it was one of the few times that the kill itself didn't feel good for him.

"I hope you understand, I only did what I thought had to be done."

It really is a lot to take in, isn't it? Even when one's been subjected to the tortures of Deerington, can a physical body and struggling soul really ever get used to things like this? Especially so suddenly, so...unexpectedly.

Perhaps he's still too naïve. After all, his expression lights up in recognition when Childe speaks of 'shadowy corpses,' having seen them following others, but not... Not himself.

Wu saw it. He remembers that suddenly, too. That's...that's why he was so insistent on talking to him, asking him if he was okay. How he felt.

A figure of loneliness and homesickness, huh...

He nearly misses that bid for understanding, his gaze having drifted as he tried to process all of this in tandem with his own recollection starting to fill in some gaps. But after a few seconds, his eye snaps back over to Childe, briefly uncertain before he picks up what he means.

I only did what I thought had to be done.

Kill him. Put him...in his house? Dead? Manabu's brow furrows just briefly.

"Y...yeah..."

Yeah, he...he understands. Sort of. The whole picture isn't there, but the outline is.

Childe sits back into his own seat, surprised at how well Manabu took that. Maybe it's the experience of death itself, or the culmination of experiences that he had from the dream to the waking world that helped. That furrowed brow tells him that there's still more to explain, but he's not sure what it is that he needs to expound on until Manabu gains the ability to ask.

"Did that bring back a few memories, then?"

Sometimes a little info was all it took. Guess he should have had a little more faith in Manabu to go over that traumatic event so soon.

Again, another affirmative sound. Mm-hmh. Sure did. It may not be the kind of memories he'd want, but...it's better than nothing, right?

Manabu shivers, prompted to hug his arms to himself, fingers clumsily fumbling to curl into the fabric of the shirt. He can feel his throat tightening without his say-so, and gulping hard against the forming knot does little to alleviate it. That's dread, isn't it? Dreadful awareness of things gone horribly, horribly wrong. The harder he thinks on this, the more likely it is that his mind will flip a switch to make him stop, but even if he was aware of that trait of suppressing trauma in him, he likely couldn't stop it.

For now, it seems that these piecemeal little bits of information, juxtaposed by a setting so completely opposite death and loneliness, seems to be surreal enough to keep him present without becoming too convinced of the insanity.

It's like a bad dream. Even knowing how bad dreams can get, this is still kind of like one to him.

It feels insulting to ask Manabu how he was doing in this moment. He can't imagine he's doing well at all, having revived about an hour or so ago. And it's unnecessarily cruel to just kick him out now that he's back. He can't even stand on his own, and as far as Childe knew, Michael was the only person rooming with Manabu. Not a great situation right now, so he runs his hand through his hair once while he thinks.

"Are you feeling better? Physically, that is. I know this is very hard on you right now, so if there's something you need, I'll be more than happy to get it. You're more than welcome to stay here for a while if you'd like."

"..."

Manabu hesitates, going still for a moment as he considers the question. Better? Better than...well, being on the floor, at a complete loss. Yeah...yeah, he supposes. But he can't say he feels any good, either.

"Mmh, yah," he croaks, looking back over at Childe with a wincing, apologetic kind of expression. "S'ry."

"No need to apologize," he says, finally taking one of his dumplings and taking a bite. "I am, after all, the whole reason why you're here, regardless of the circumstances."

That was something he didn't feel good about- granted, he didn't feel sorry for what he'd done. He loved the fight, relished in it, but not every kill feels good after the fighting ends. But he could empathize with how the situation came about, and how it could have taken anyone...something he despised. That was something he could feel sorry for.

It was beyond strange to be confronted with the person he'd killed, something he's still coming to grips with, especially given that the victim was Manabu. He pokes the next dumpling with his fork, unsure of what to say next. Usually the dead stay dead.

"Manabu, I'm sorry for what happened. It nearly got me, too."

Seeing Childe eat reminds Manabu that there's a table setting in front of him, gives him a reason to consider it for a moment before his attention is inevitably drawn back to Childe once more - especially with that remark on being the 'whole reason.' Manabu's brow furrows at that, trying to figure out how such a thing settles in him.

Not well, it turns out! Part of him wants to reject it outright, the way he always refuses to let people feel sorry for his own outcomes. Part of him wants to lean into that and press for more details. Part of him...wants nothing to do with it at all, just wants to block all of this out even though he knows it won't change things.

It's even harder to sit still when I'm sorry hits his ears: His face flushes hot and he grimaces, quickly shaking his head with a struggled, nasally sound of disapproval.

"Nn-no, no." Another easy sound. "No. Nn--not. No..."

"Ah..."

He gives a wave of his hands, seemingly to dismiss the matter at hand. He hadn't meant to embarrass him, and well, perhaps that was something best left alone for now.

"Forget I said anything. Maybe it's best if we focus on getting food in your stomach instead of events of the past. If you don't eat, then you'll only become weaker than you are as it is. I implore you to try some, it's quite good."

It's a little cruel that Manabu can still blush in embarrassment when he can't even feel the heat anymore, but that's neither here nor there. And besides, the red color fades quite quickly after the initial flush, leaving him to frown down at the food once more.

Childe's probably right; even though he's far from hungry, considering what had just come out of him, it's...probably worth a try? Maybe he'd feel more human at least.

So he tries. It's graceless, almost like a toddler picking at food, but he gets more food in his mouth than misses, so if he were in the business to feel proud about anything in the moment, it'd be that. Something as basic as eating helps - not just from the vitality standpoint, but the sensory memories connected to such foods helps anchor him back into a better mindstate. Dumplings are nostalgic for him: He used to do a piss-poor job helping his mom make them as part of her overnight prep work at the restaurant.

He's such a long way from there, in so many different ways...

A couple dumplings in and Manabu finds his eyes welling up again, prompting him to stop for a bit to rub at them and just sit, head in his hands for a couple minutes of silence, after which he can actually lift his head back up again and utter a soft sound.

"S'good."

"I'm glad you like them. They always bring back delightful memories from home, so eating them has always been something I've enjoyed."

Childe gives Manabu his space to eat, and all the time he needs to eat them. Even if he needs to get some tears out of the way to do it. If anything, he's glad he's eating anything at all. Throwing up your insides while configuring back into a human was already traumatic enough, let alone even thinking about putting something in your stomach afterward. He silently commends Manabu for that alone.

"Do you think you'll need something to temporarily assist you with walking? I figured you'd probably want to try to be as independent as possible. Another friend of mine died a few weeks back as well, and his recovery has also been slow, so I imagine it will be the same for you."

Nostalgia goes a long way, but can only last so long. The food doesn't sit entirely comfortably in him; Manabu doesn't like how aware he is of the feeling of it all sliding down and landing heavily in his stomach, doesn't like the return of nausea that echoes the threat of tossing it all back up again.

He swallows thickly against those uncomfortable feelings, turning his head to look over toward Childe as he speaks. It takes a few seconds to process the words, because Manabu's mind wants to wander and linger on the surreal quality of just being here with company.

Once the words click, however, Manabu's expression shifts. Another friend of mine died.

"Who-?"

"Master Diluc," he says slowly, not sure if Manabu even knew who that was. He still wonders how he'd died, but that was a question best asked after his recovery was complete. Memories of the ghost trapping his spirit comes rushing back into his mind, sighing heavily as he looks down into his dumplings. When did his journey to find endless combat become so complicated?

Childe doesn't let himself look down for long, lifting his head up and smiling back at Manabu. He's fine, we're all fine here.

"You may have seen him around Trench. There's no mistaking that striking red hair of his. Actually, the other half of this batch of dumplings was for him."

It takes a few seconds for the recognition to hit, but Childe's descriptors help jog his memory. His eyebrows lift as he recalls who it is Childe is speaking of...and then furrow as he realizes that means he, too...

He utters a soft sound of acknowledgement, looking back down at the remains of the food he picked at. Hadn't Diluc had enough death? That canoe voyage through bloody waters full of the bodies of his friends and family wasn't that long ago...was it?

Was it? Manabu rubs at his face, struck by a wave of dread. How long has it been?

"Okay," he murmurs, dragging his hand away to fall in his lap. "Kay..."

Ah, Manabu did know who Diluc was. He supposes that doesn't make this any easier, so rather than address the matter further, he rises to his feet. Talking about Diluc killed his appetite, and he's got no one to thank but himself for that.

"I'll prepare your bed for the remainder of the time you'll need to recover. I apologize for the lack of entertainment, I'm not home most of the time. It's really more of a place to eat and sleep. I'll be back momentarily. Just send your omen if you need anything."

Leaving, he walks down the hallway and disappears into a smaller guest bedroom occupied not but a few days earlier by a small child. He has to make sure Klee didn't leave any bombs in there, he can't imagine how that would go if Manabu were to discover one.

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

alive! (derogatory)

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