[ Flynn's heavy thoughts chase him as he hurries up the stairs on numb feet, to the chest in the corner of their room in which he's been storing, in the paper in came in, Yuri's birthday gift.
It's late now, but Yuri needs it and that's what matters. Maybe he doesn't need Flynn but he certainly needs to be warm, needs that strength back in his limbs so he can recover and Flynn can learn how he got free and what he had to do and why he looks so haunted. They need to make a plan for taking that place out and collate what they've learned and all Flynn's research, but that—
that comes later. First, Yuri needs to be okay, really okay. Perhaps a few more healing spells.
It crinkles under his fingers and he doesn't even bother closing the trunk, swiping the small bag of gels he'd washed up with from his desk, and hurrying with everything back downstairs.
Yuri's dark head is still there, and Flynn doesn't mean to make an audible noise of relief but he certainly does, makes Yuri look up a bit as he rounds the couch again to sink down beside him with everything bundled against his chest. ]
This should keep you warm. You look awful, you must have—well.
[ He's fussing, and Yuri said he didn't need that but Flynn pulls the paper apart anyway, revealing a black woven blanket inscribed with dark red thread, so dark they're nearly violet, like a good wine. They're symbols, though it isn't obvious until the blanket is opened. Most importantly, it's a good heavy wool, washed into softness, radiating heat like a live coal. ]
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It's late now, but Yuri needs it and that's what matters. Maybe he doesn't need Flynn but he certainly needs to be warm, needs that strength back in his limbs so he can recover and Flynn can learn how he got free and what he had to do and why he looks so haunted. They need to make a plan for taking that place out and collate what they've learned and all Flynn's research, but that—
that comes later. First, Yuri needs to be okay, really okay. Perhaps a few more healing spells.
It crinkles under his fingers and he doesn't even bother closing the trunk, swiping the small bag of gels he'd washed up with from his desk, and hurrying with everything back downstairs.
Yuri's dark head is still there, and Flynn doesn't mean to make an audible noise of relief but he certainly does, makes Yuri look up a bit as he rounds the couch again to sink down beside him with everything bundled against his chest. ]
This should keep you warm. You look awful, you must have—well.
[ He's fussing, and Yuri said he didn't need that but Flynn pulls the paper apart anyway, revealing a black woven blanket inscribed with dark red thread, so dark they're nearly violet, like a good wine. They're symbols, though it isn't obvious until the blanket is opened. Most importantly, it's a good heavy wool, washed into softness, radiating heat like a live coal. ]