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[ That is the single most cursed punishment he's ever heard and wasting the battery power for the disgusted expression is entirely justified. ]
...Can't have that. The coffee is no longer a request, but a demand. Need a weapon if Battler's face s'the first thing I see.
[ There will be no lectures because he'll be back before that. Something probably just happened with the relic - like how Yggdrasil had a moment of Death before fixing itself. It'll be the same here. Lion even has directions. A hope. Even if they're putting on a brave face, that's enough. It has to be. And the last dregs of the bracer are spent resting a hand on their face, squeezing their other hand with a smile hopefully as supportive as he's trying to come off. That might still be taken badly. Keep it light. Hmm.
Add a pinch. ]
See you soon.
[ And unlike what every fear of Lion's and every attempt the narrative takes to be heartless, it's not Vista Virs. Nor is it Ange's tantrum. It's just like whenever the other angels disappeared - a bright flash of white, searing like sunlight, dissolving out into firefly particles before going out. Like a particularly tall and annoying firework. This is Lion's punishment for dating a Piece.
All that's left is two sheets of paper in the snow, yellowed and frayed with age, stains and tears marring the words. Which isn't saying much, considering the handwriting is a shorthand they've seen before - and remember purely from how nigh-illegible it is. Even still, none of this is relevant. There is only one part of these papers that will inspire Lion to panic.
[ The smile lasts as long as he does. They can do that much, and it gives them time to anchor to the feeling of the hand on their face, silently repeating the promise over and over to make it stick. It's temporary. He'll be back. Even if not for that, they died and came back, so he could-can-will too. Hold onto that against all odds. It fades when he does- but what wells up in it's place is the memory of the funeral. How oddly pretty it was, if not for... what it was.
One moment. Surely they can have one moment, where no-one could possibly be watching, to break down and cry. Before someone comes looking for the two of them. Before they start looking for answers as to why this happened and how they fix it and
One moment. One.
But- no they can't, because it is cold and that is paper and they just promised to keep it - him, him - safe and they really don't want to consider what long-term damage could result from needing to air-dry what's left. Reality won't wait for them to grieve, however temporarily. That's not how it works. Sure, this is so much worse then the glass, but... it won't fix itself.
So it's fine. Scoop up the pages, carefully. Ignore the immediate impulse to fold them somewhere safe, who knows what that could do. Dry the tears with one sleeve, hold what's left to their chest with the other, breathe. Grab the bundle of sticks, it's not worth wasting all that effort and surely, someone will need it. Stand up.
Take a step. Take another. Keep going until the town comes into view.
Worry about 'what comes next' later.
(And later, alone in their joint room, curiosity finally wins out. They read the list. All twenty points of it, blood-stained and worse. It's a careful effort, to not add more tears to the mess, but the rest of him is carefully tucked in their spellbook for protection afterwards.) ]
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...Can't have that. The coffee is no longer a request, but a demand. Need a weapon if Battler's face s'the first thing I see.
[ There will be no lectures because he'll be back before that. Something probably just happened with the relic - like how Yggdrasil had a moment of Death before fixing itself. It'll be the same here. Lion even has directions. A hope. Even if they're putting on a brave face, that's enough. It has to be. And the last dregs of the bracer are spent resting a hand on their face, squeezing their other hand with a smile hopefully as supportive as he's trying to come off. That might still be taken badly. Keep it light. Hmm.
Add a pinch. ]
See you soon.
[ And unlike what every fear of Lion's and every attempt the narrative takes to be heartless, it's not Vista Virs. Nor is it Ange's tantrum. It's just like whenever the other angels disappeared - a bright flash of white, searing like sunlight, dissolving out into firefly particles before going out. Like a particularly tall and annoying firework. This is Lion's punishment for dating a Piece.
All that's left is two sheets of paper in the snow, yellowed and frayed with age, stains and tears marring the words. Which isn't saying much, considering the handwriting is a shorthand they've seen before - and remember purely from how nigh-illegible it is. Even still, none of this is relevant. There is only one part of these papers that will inspire Lion to panic.
It's a list. ]
no subject
One moment. Surely they can have one moment, where no-one could possibly be watching, to break down and cry. Before someone comes looking for the two of them. Before they start looking for answers as to why this happened and how they fix it and
One moment. One.
But- no they can't, because it is cold and that is paper and they just promised to keep it - him, him - safe and they really don't want to consider what long-term damage could result from needing to air-dry what's left. Reality won't wait for them to grieve, however temporarily. That's not how it works. Sure, this is so much worse then the glass, but... it won't fix itself.
So it's fine. Scoop up the pages, carefully. Ignore the immediate impulse to fold them somewhere safe, who knows what that could do. Dry the tears with one sleeve, hold what's left to their chest with the other, breathe. Grab the bundle of sticks, it's not worth wasting all that effort and surely, someone will need it. Stand up.
Take a step. Take another. Keep going until the town comes into view.
Worry about 'what comes next' later.
(And later, alone in their joint room, curiosity finally wins out. They read the list. All twenty points of it, blood-stained and worse. It's a careful effort, to not add more tears to the mess, but the rest of him is carefully tucked in their spellbook for protection afterwards.) ]