judgementor | [Aefenglom IC Inbox]

[ Red Wine touches his arm, and something in Steak's expression changes as he looks upwards, ears flicking and flattening against his skull.

Being here has tested them both, has added new pressures to their friendship, rivalry, whatever they should call it. Becoming a monster has done more to Steak than he believed it could have when they first arrived.

But gaining this bond, a whole level deeper than the link between them on Tierra, has done something too. Something Steak can't quite quantify, not yet, but to curl in a touch closer to Red Wine, tentacles twitching idly. ]

What made you stay, once Madam passed?

[ He doesn't know what makes him ask that, but he does. They made promises, sure, but Red Wine was never above lying to make someone happy, or changing his mind after the fact. ]

She asked me to. It was her dying wish that I look after you.

[Those words come slow and quiet, and he knows as well as Steak does that it can't have only been that. A promise to a dead master attendant means only as much as you make it mean, and though he had loved her dearly he had not been bound to her once she'd passed on.

Still, it stings to talk about her.

He rests his head back down, though leaves his hand where it is.]

And I'd grown used to you. I despise change.

[ That day was the first time they'd taken their fists to one another, rather than their swords, and Steak remembers it well. How could he forget? It was the last day home truly felt like home, not a cage surrounded by hungry-eyed humans. ]

I'll take that as a compliment.

[ He's at least better than change? Great. ]

[He laughs softly, a brief flash of sharp teeth that melt into a smile as he closes his eyes. They stay closed, and he shifts his head against the pillow to make himself more comfortable.]

I've had worse company.

[There wasn't anyone else he'd rather have with him in a place like this. Even Gingerbread, who he loves dearly like a sister, wouldn't be able to come close in comparison.]

And I know I would be... less, without you.

[ But Gingerbread is sorely missed, by both of them, a constant ache in the depths of Steak's heart whenever he finds himself drifting off in the middle of the day, or looking for work to fill his time with.

Right now, however, his mind is occupied fully by the jerk next to him, and Red Wine's words get Steak's brows raising, a flush coming to his cheeks as he clears his throat and looks away.

Ah. ]

You need someone to lose to.

[ That's. Easier to deal with. Their competitions, a thing which suddenly seems so petty and insignificant in the scheme of it all. ]

Hmm.

[An argument isn't forthcoming, and perhaps it's because Red Wine is already half asleep... or perhaps there's another reason. He digs his knuckles very lightly into Steak's ribs.]

I shall take it as a compliment... and a statement to your vanity that you believe yourself the only Food Soul I might lose to.

[And not all the time. He's still keeping track.

Red Wine opens one eye and a corner of his mouth curls up in a small smirk.]

[ Who are you calling vain, bastard? He's simply confident and realistic about his skills. Steak exhales a forceful huff out of his nostrils, a sound which has somehow only become more bullish since his transformation in Aefenglom.

He looks up at Red Wine once more, the jerk as infuriatingly beautiful as he's always been — even here, undead and paler than before —, and prods him back with a tentacle.

Jerk. ]

Eh...

[He mutters, lightly batting that prodding limb away from another attempt. Mm. No. Don't like that. Red Wine isn't sure he's going to get used to see those things on Steak, let alone being touched by them.

This place is doing unholy things to the both of them, and Steak has been so much quieter about how he feels about it all.]

You don't have to sleep just because I am.

[ He's kept himself busy. Treated this place like he would treat anywhere on Tierra, and it helps. The more work he has to do, the less he has to think about what he's becoming. And, all things considered, the tentacles have their uses. It's much easier to do things with eight extra limbs to hold and work. ]

Well, I've already undressed.

[ And ever since the shape of his horns changed, his top has become so much more awkward to pull off and on. He's too tired to deal with that now. ]

Yes, I did notice that.

[Not that he had asked him to, or asked him to stay, or said anything that would imply he wanted him to share the bed for the night. So annoying. Presumptuous. Just like him.

He sighs and settles, tucking one hand under his pillow and leaving the other on Steak's arm.]

I suppose you'll just have to stay here.

[ And yet, Red Wine never told him to fuck off. Or kicked him out. Both of which Steak would expect if he really didn't want Steak to stay. ]

Hmph. Thank you.

[ And he tries to get comfortable in his current position, tries to stop thinking about that hand against a hide-covered arm. ]

Good night, Red Wine.

Mm, good night.

[And he doesn't struggle like he used to. His breathing steadies, slows, then stops entirely, with the only indication of life continuing in him at all being the small twitches of movement behind his eyelids and his fingertips against Steak's warm skin.

For once, he isn't disturbed by unsettling dreams.]

[ And in the morning, to nobody's surprise, Steak rises first, blinking and groaning to himself as he tries to resist the urge to go back to sleep, pushing red hair back out of his face as he sits up.

And looks over at Red Wine, still as anything as he rests, pale and unearthly beautiful, in that way Food Souls often are. But more than before — skin whiter, fangs (which poke out just slightly) sharper —, he's something surreal.

And Steak reaches out, and brushes a few pieces of dark hair back from his face, an automatic gesture to get it away from his eyelids. ]

[Despite how he looks, all Red Wine is doing is sleeping soundly. He moved a few times in the night - rolling over, hugging Steak's arm for a few hours, half-waking and then dozing off again when a shaft of sun slips through the curtains and falls over his eyes.

When Steak wakes up, he doesn't notice.

The touch to his face, though, makes him grimace faintly and scrunch up his nose. He grunts softly in the back of his throat and squeezes his eyes shut tighter. Pulls in a sharp breath, then coughs as it fills stiffened lungs.]

... Five more minutes...

[ If Red Wine is never going to get used to Steak's new appendages, Steak is never going to get used to Red Wine's (quite literally) dead sleep. Which might be because they obviously don't sleep together all that often.

This is just a... twice or thrice off. Nothing more. ]

C'mon, jerk. [ That said, Steak doesn't speak as loudly as usual, muttering to himself more than anything, prodding Red Wine's cheek once with his finger before he takes more drastic action.

Such as ripping the covers off Red Wine. ]

[Never mind a slow and easy wake-up, then (something Red Wine has started growing more used to since the hours of their activities began to diverge). The comfortable covers are pulled off him and he yelps, jerking upright and shoving Steak's arm forcefully.]

What is wrong with you?! [He snaps, grabbing the cover back up to his chest and wrapping one arm around it while he rubs his eye with the heel of his free hand. The back of his hair sticks up slightly from the ribbon tying it (fuzzy, like a bird nest) and he has the mark of a fabric crease across one cheek.

There isn't as much force in his voice as he might have liked there to be.]

Can't you let me have five minutes without doing something boorish?

[ Shoving and yelling are simple, familiar comforts. Easier to deal with, on some level, than the apologies of last night.

Steak always thought he dealt well with change, simply moving on when things happen, but when it comes to Red Wine...

Well.

Change is difficult. ]

You were taking too long. [ Hmph. And maybe, just maybe, Steak is staring at the dishevelled mess that is so, so rarely seen on Red Wine, expression unfathomable as his gaze combs over the crease on his cheek. ]

[Grumbling, he rubs his face and winces as he presses against the cut on his cheek - forgotten through sleep and his current level of irritation. He prods lightly at the offending injury, squinting one eye half shut, then brushes his hair forwards in a subconscious effort to hide it.]

What does it matter to you how long I was taking, anyway.

[Still not entirely awake, he drops his hand into his lap and stares at the opposite wall, blinking a few times to try and shake the grogginess off.]

Were you in a rush to go somewhere?

[ There's a flush of colour high on Steak's cheeks that has nothing to do with Red Wine not at all. Just... he's also tired. Of course. ]

Hmph. [ He isn't. In fact, Steak has no plans. He just wanted to make sure Red Wine wasn't going to be lazy all day, obviously!! ]

... You look strange asleep.

[ Steak, normally as blunt as a hammer, dances around the words he really means. It's unnerving to watch Red Wine lying there, not breathing. It makes him uneasy. ]

... Really.

[Red Wine mutters, then stretches both arms above his head with a soft grunt of exertion. He rubs his face again, drops his hands, and turns his attention towards Steak.]

You've seen me sleeping before.

[ Oh. So Red Wine's going to make him say it, huh? ]

You would breathe then.

[ Hmph. Even if this isn't how Food Souls die, it's still unnerving to see him in a position so entirely reserved for human death. A position which reminds Steak so very much of the peace their Master Attendants found when they grew old. ]

Oh.

[Frowning, he rubs his hand around the back of his neck and presses his lips together. When he's awake he breathes like it's instinct, but he knows that he doesn't need to. It's just... comforting to keep doing it.]

I'm--... mn.

[Maybe he shouldn't have made Steak say it.]

... You shouldn't stay in here again, then, if it upsets you.

[ It's strange, how Steak would have gladly taken that offer any other time. Hell, back on Tierra he wouldn't even be in a position to have that offer made.

But here...

Here it's different. Here, where they both walk knife edges between sanity and insanity, those hours spent apart makes Steak worry about what could be happening.

His hand reaches out and brushes Red Wine's knee before he can even think to stop it. ]

Tch. Don't think so highly of yourself.

[ But those words are hollow as anything could be. ]

I wasn't. [He says, and he sounds so tired in those two words. He is tired. He''s tired of this, and all the things he can't control, and of Steak being the only solid piece of land he can cling to in this damned constant storm.

He's so tired of how complicated everything has become.]

I was thinking of you, Steak, if you'd use your brain for once. I've done enough to you already, haven't I?

[ Too complicated. Steak hates it. It's ceased being something that can simply be powered through, it has never been something they can leave the way they left their home country.

He doesn't know what to do, or just why the idea of leaving Red Wine — in any capacity — makes him ache like this. It's no longer just a promise made, whether to Red Wine or his Master Attendant.

It's something else he can't understand.

Steak shakes his head, fingers twitching and gripping a bit more firmly at Red Wine's knee. He can't just leave.

He doesn't want to. ]

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