#🐉 ; a minute til we wander away [queue]

[draconicfool]

Strangers in the Underworld were quite common now that the planet had opened. But the stranger he hadn't expected to run into on his way back to the clinic was the same one on the posters that had been plastered all over the Belobog. His ear flicked as he went to approach the other, holding up a hand in greeting.

"S'cuse me-? Are y'lost or somethin', sugar?"

@honkai-star-fun || sc.

[draconicfool]

"Well- guess s'true that y'want a few surprises when it comes t' romance, right-?"

Not that Eros was aware of his thoughts on the matter. Of what he was thinking about in the moment. But he found himself thinking again how cute it was to see the way the other seemed caught off guard by it. That little smile and the way he squeezed his hand. Everything about him was rather charming, wasn't it?

"Th' fuel issue?" His head tilted slightly at the sentence. Ah, this had to do with the Express, of course. Not that he knew a lot about it, so naturally he didn't mind listening to the other man ramble on about these things.

The Vidyadhara gave a small nod as Welt spoke, showing he was listening and not wanting to interrupt. So the Express drew power from the path, if he was understanding correctly. So as long as the crew went on adventures and blazed their trails, it could, in theory, continue to go on forever.

"Tha's fascinatin' actually." It reminded him if only in theory of his mask. Drawing power from his path and his chase after Elation. "But that begs th' question- I guess f'er me, at least...if y'have another member on th' Crew that in theory gives that fuel, since s'another person blazin' a trail, does that not help with adjustin' f'er th' longer times y'er takin'-? Or am I misunderstandin' here-?"

“Dork--” 

Yes, it was still weird hearing it from someone who wasn’t a certain redhaired scientist. Yes, he was never going to get used to it, though for now it seemed... nice to hear. Huffing softly, a quaint little smile crossing as he gave Eros’s hand a gentle squeeze.  

���You say such unexpected things sometimes. It’s nice.” Maybe an idle observation, albeit probably a silly one. “Yes, well... we’d have to see how the fuel issue resolves itself first.” 

Well, that sounded more bleak than Welt intended it to be. Whoops. “I mean—well, the young ones don’t know yet but since we picked up our newest passenger it’s no coincidence, we’ve taken longer at each stop than necessary. Do you know how the Express runs?” Now it’s his turn for a bit of nerd rambling. 

“It actually draws energy from Trailblazing itself. Likely from the markings we wear, if I had to guess, but it’s why the Conductor insists on a limitation between stops: as long as we keep having adventures then in theory the train won’t ever run out of fuel. Sort of like a perpetual motion machine.” 

[draconicfool]

He takin' a nap.

[draconicfool]

"Y'really say th' silliest things sometimes." Of course, he understood, but all the same. The smaller reaching up to gentle ruffle the other's hair as he spoke. And then he was fixing those crooked glasses the way he always desperately wanted to. "I get what y'mean, though. I could read how t' make somethin', sure. But makin' somethin' all m'own is different. Not t' mention, if I didn't go out an' study some of these herbs, I wouldn't have found their particular applications other people couldn't! F'er instance- there's a plant I have that people were mostly usin' as an herb, but if y'use it with another one s' actually great f'er relievin' stomach aches! Ain't that fascinatin'? And nobody had ever thought t' use it that way, they were jus' cookin' with it! And then there's--"

He stopped, hand over his mouth now. "'m ramblin' again, tha's m'bad."

“I get it. Any proper researcher can read a book, but there’s still something especially fascinating about being able to actually witness the subject firsthand.” And as a researcher in his own right, Welt could definitely understand the feeling. “It’s like—a sense of pride, if that makes sense? Like creation isn’t the same as copying, one has the satisfaction of having made something perfectly unique with your own two hands while the other is just merely the same thing.” 

... One of these days he’d explain these odd examples. One day. 

[draconicfool]

The sound of his phone going off had him jumping, being mid making a meal. But all the same he'd grab it and answer. Confused at first- and then concerned. More than a little concerned. Very concerned. He'd told her to call, after all. Told her that he'd rather her be safe than sorry.

"Tell me where y'are, sugar, 'm on th' way."

Turning off the stove, he'd shrug a coat on and grab his keys and his claws. Better to be prepared. Hopefully he could get there before anything bad happened. Or- anything worse he supposed if something already had happened.

Nicole obeys and her fingers move with all the speed of someone comfortable with gadgets and gizmos. She smiles at him and bids him a lively goodbye. Then as quick as they met, the two go their separate ways.

It's quiet for about a week between them. Not a peep in either direction. Then like a tornado alarm blaring in the quietness of a Wednesday afternoon, his phone rings over and over again. It doesn't ever find the calmness of the caller stopping. If he managed to pick up, all he would be capable of hearing would be Nicole's distraught voice screaming for help, the clanking of metal, and the growling of something.

❛ Something happened ! I don't know , heeeeeeelp ! ❜

[draconicfool]

One touch is usually all it takes. The mask draws from the path and the toxin he isn't aware of takes a touch. Skin to skin. So easily paralyzed. But he hasn't touched his skin because of the clothing. He's only holding tighter to that mask. As if there's a deficiency in him when really it's in the man in front of him. And he knows that. Try harder. Try harder.

"I'll help y'er friend, but we really will need t' take him t' th' clinic." Listen. It's a screaming thought in his head at this point. Willing him. Why isn't it working? It's supposed to work. Eros can feel that it wants to work!

"...YX017?" He asks, a brow raising. Interesting, and raising more questions than it answers. But he can play the fool. The temptress. Can't he? This man isn't from here, he doesn't care about the ramifications this time. That's why the mask is on.

And then, those black-tinted fingers are on top of the other's bare hand. A smile behind the mask as his free hand takes it ever so slightly off. Still enough to use it- enough to draw what he needs. To compel him. One more push, the thinks. Then he'll listen.

"How 'bout we get him and take him back? I have more efficient tools if I c'n get him in th' clinic, y'know~." Isn't he attractive wearing barely anything? Isn't he convincing? The ability he's been granted draws from that natural charm after all. So then why is he so resistant to it? What other force at play can make a Fool's mask all but u s e l e s s?"

He's crying. That's not a rare occurrence, though something tells him it might have been, once. Now, he cries every time BH003 needs to be put back to sleep for another year, or years. He cries when he suffers through one of the harsher punishments, the ones where he can't simply let his mind and heart go numb. He cries when he thinks of the ocean, and of spicy food, and of flowers.

Right now, he is crying because his mind is trying to tear itself apart with opposing desires.

He does not flinch away from the touch, having long since been taught better than that, but his body is tense nonetheless. It does not feel reassuring, it only makes him feel worse.

"... designation: YX017," he murmurs, the words coming automatically, "Partner subject's designation: JY007."

Then, he does wince. These phrases are only meant for his masters, not for strangers. He hugs himself tighter. "... I'm sorry." He's going to have to report his slip-up when he gets back. But if he returns without the doctor, the consequences will be far worse. "I'm sorry, but he needs you. I can't lose him."

[draconicfool]

"Alright, then I won't push."

He'd learned a long time ago not to make children talk about things they didn't want to. It would only lead to more tears, and really- he didn't want to see her crying more than she already seemed to be.

Even if she put on that Pitch Dark Hook the Great face- the brave act. She was still just a kid. Just a little girl who'd gotten hurt. And it was understandable to be scared.

"Well, hopefully we c'n at least get it better so she'll know y'got it taken care of properly."

He let out a soft sigh before pulling the glass out and beginning the process to clean out the cut. Gentle but quick as tended to it and bandaged it up.

"There we go, sweetheart. All better. If y'wanna sit a minute more I c'n fix y'er coat, too."

"Dun wanna talk about it," Hook mumbled.

No, not because it was too painful of a memory for her to bear, but because she didn't want to hear how it was a dumb thing to do, she knew that now!

Hook loved her coat but knew it needed to be cut away to get to the glass. Though it wasn't like the coat hadn't already survived quite a few rips and tears.

"Thanks, but I know I'm still going to hear it tomorrow at school anyway. That old wi--Miss Natasha has superhuman eyesight."

Really, all Hook was doing was delaying the inevitable lecture. But when having to decide if she would get that lecture now or later, she'll definitely opt for later.

"Mm. I know it'll hurt, just get it over with please."

She could take it! She was Pitch Dark Hook the Great!

[draconicfool]

"I know y'have all that information already but- all th' same I like makin' observations m'self and not jus' readin' other people's, y'know?" That brought a soft laugh of their own bubbling to the surface. That he was so quick to correct himself when he thought he'd said the wrong thing. And the surprise mixed with his little laugh was certainly very cute to the vidyadhara.

"Y'don't have t' apologize, darlin'. I jus' like experiencin' rather th'n readin', y'know? I feel like first hand knowledge is a lot more useful th'n jus' takin' words someone put on a page f'er granted. Maybe- tha's a bit hypocritical considerin' what m'Daddy did f'er a livin', but all th' same."

“Ah--” Well, it was probably a good thing he was getting used to the spontaneous shows of affection. Or at the very least he was getting better at not immediately needing to rebalance given the height difference. “Is it? But—we have all of that information already available in the Databank--” A short pause followed by a huff of a chuckle. 

“Right, my apologies. You do make a pretty good point, and it’d be much easier to take the information back rather than hoping that there’s an updated encyclopedia for sale.”