judgementor | [Aefenglom IC Inbox]

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. ]

[His chest aches, and he misses his heartbeat. It feels strange and hollow, but it conveys all the same meaning. He's been caught up in this ever since they arrived, ever since he had that first inkling of what he might be changing into and what that would mean...

... and it had all felt like a cruel joke. The only thing that's been real here since the start has been this presence at his side. This steadfast soul who he surely could not have made it this far without.

He doesn't know why Steak hasn't left, but he looks down at the hand grasping his knee with a slightly wavering gaze.

God--]

I'm sorry. [Red Wine says, breathes out, and then he laughs on a sigh and sniffs, rubs the heel of his hand underneath one eye and comes away with the skin damp.] Fucking-- How dare you get me so emotional when I've barely woken up.

[ Leaving hasn't even occurred to Steak. Perhaps it would be easier for him, more peaceful, but he's never felt as brilliant in battle as he does with Red Wine by his side. Not even his Master Attendant could so easily, so wordlessly, function with him.

He hasn't left because he's survived — even thrived — through every other challenge they've faced because Red Wine was there with him.

Despite everything, every argument and fight and insult hurled, Red Wine makes him invincible. Not just better.

No.

With Red Wine, Steak is sure he can survive anything.

Even this. ]

Were you always this soft?

[ He doesn't laugh, as he often would when given the opportunity to poke fun at someone, but his voice is warm and his hand reaches up, his arm wraps around Red Wine's shoulders, and pulls him flush against Steak's side. ]

[Oh, he doesn't expect that Steak would ever have noticed how... sensitive he could be about things. It was something he'd always kept to himself, along with many other things that he'd deemed it best for Steak not to know.

Being here has made it worse. There's only so long that someone can be under the kind of constant weight of fear that Red Wine has been under before they start to buckle. The fine lines of stress have been showing in the veneer for weeks.]

Shut up...

[Steak doesn't laugh, and that makes it all too easy to lean into him instead of shoving him away.]

Don't act like this has been so easy for you.

[ Helping Red Wine used to be easy. All Steak had to do was remind him how impossible his fears were. To treat him the way he always did. It was simple to dismiss the fear and highlight his flaws, it helped stoke the flames of competition and hatred which always defined them so nicely.

But he can't do that here, and it shows in the friction between them.

Friction which, for now, is quiet. And Steak doesn't seem willing to break it, his arm remaining around Red Wine's shoulders as the bastard leans in further. ]

Why do I look like a Uke Mochi?

[ It's a silly gripe, a petty gripe. But really? Of all the Fallen Angels? ]

[The similarities between the changes in Steak's form and one of their most formidable enemies on Tierra has not gone unnoticed by Red Wine, he simply hasn't mentioned it. One of them has to have some sense of decorum about all of this, after all.]

I don't know.

[He shifts, just enough to be able to look up at Steak's face. That, at least, hasn't changed.]

Just don't start acting like one. It would be very unbecoming.

[ What's decor got to do with this?

He glances back at Red Wine, the faintest of smiles touching the corners of his mouth at the commentary. That's more like the jerk he knows. ]

I thought I was always unbecoming.

[ In Red Wine's estimation, anyway. ]

You are.

[Squint.

Jerk. Awful, boorish oaf.

He hates him, and yet-- Hate is so close to much more tender things, not at the opposite end as so many humans seem to think. Do any of them think about how much you have to know about someone, how close you have to be to them in order to truly hate them?

His attention darts briefly to that smile, then back up to Steak's eyes.]

I don't know why I put up with you.

You hate change.

[ He asked that question last night for a reason, after all. Red Wine could have left any time he wanted, but he didn't.

Steak supposes the same holds true for him, no matter what he may think about his oaths. He never needed to keep any of them, but he did nonetheless.

He stuck by Red Wine's side nonetheless. ]

Ah...

[And without thinking, it seemed he had given Steak a weapon to use against him. Red Wine hates change, as might only be expected from someone who had lived for so long.

Steak had been listening.

He can hear his heartbeat through every inch of his skin when they're this close. It's maddening yet soothing all at once.]

You remembered.

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i'm sorry for the things i write

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