He wasn't positive how he'd managed it. But, he knew that he had to. He knew that he did. And he knew, in the hours spent in pursuit, he'd somehow pulled the talons out from beneath the firm lay of his ribs and shoved the extremity over the lip of the steel beam that given him a vantage point to begin with. It was too heavy, he knows, for a human to typically lift. But, humans in their own right could be strong enough when given opportunity. And he was, more than once. From one day to the next, he'd grappled with what anxieties subsumed them. He held back their teeth and their claws, felt the acidic bite and the slow abrasion of inevitability as the world they'd come to know began to distort. For one who'd been so gentle, he'd splintered under the strain and the barbs of what remains is enough to fend most people off. It was an adaptation, in its own right. It was its own power, though illusory and cloaked.
But, as he does not fear Akira, Akira too does not fear him. No matter the way he arms himself against all beyond him, Akira finds his way through. He shoulders through the strongholds, uses the sensitivities that still exist within the skin to peel away the layers that surround him. Ryo takes a slow breath as Akira's curved nails skim, take from him one guard in part as Akira inspects him in the same way Ryo had inspected him. He's careful, precise. His wounds, much like Akira's own, had healed without indication of why or when. It is only that they had, leaving the residual cast of bandaging beneath his shirt to cover what once was there. ]
I was thinking the same thing, [ Ryo starts, after a moment. The bright in his tone dulls, like a frost pressed against dark windows. It smudges what is beneath, an odd ache that curls within his ribs like ivy. His hand retreats as Akira's does, finds a place to rest beneath the shoulder strap that cuts dull into his flesh, even above the coat. It's heavy with wild vegetables, fruits — a few other items, here and there. His gaze moves, for a moment, to what fans around them. There's forest as far he can see, a green sea of trees. Ryo sighs through his nose. ]
There's no way I traveled as far as you did, but there's nothing about what I've seen that looks geographically familiar.
[ He glances back. The manifestation of the pack, somehow, isn't surprising to him. He'd seen an action akin to this before, the reconstitution of muscle and sinew, the weight of Akira's arm in his hands. The recollected sensation of blood smeared across his palms strikes him, but he does not say a word. Akira is here and Akira is whole. He is uninjured and that is all that matters now, in a place they both do not know.
He turns the pack around to the front of his hip, demonstrative. He pushes aside the flap, blind, with one hand as he roots in. ]
I got one too.
[ Though, what he comes up with shouldn't be in most bags. It's a book, its binding bent and battered. The pages are dog-eared in ways that reflect something well-read, a singular and makeshift bookmark holding the place the owner stopped reading it. He extends it to him. ]
no subject
He wasn't positive how he'd managed it. But, he knew that he had to. He knew that he did. And he knew, in the hours spent in pursuit, he'd somehow pulled the talons out from beneath the firm lay of his ribs and shoved the extremity over the lip of the steel beam that given him a vantage point to begin with. It was too heavy, he knows, for a human to typically lift. But, humans in their own right could be strong enough when given opportunity. And he was, more than once. From one day to the next, he'd grappled with what anxieties subsumed them. He held back their teeth and their claws, felt the acidic bite and the slow abrasion of inevitability as the world they'd come to know began to distort. For one who'd been so gentle, he'd splintered under the strain and the barbs of what remains is enough to fend most people off. It was an adaptation, in its own right. It was its own power, though illusory and cloaked.
But, as he does not fear Akira, Akira too does not fear him. No matter the way he arms himself against all beyond him, Akira finds his way through. He shoulders through the strongholds, uses the sensitivities that still exist within the skin to peel away the layers that surround him. Ryo takes a slow breath as Akira's curved nails skim, take from him one guard in part as Akira inspects him in the same way Ryo had inspected him. He's careful, precise. His wounds, much like Akira's own, had healed without indication of why or when. It is only that they had, leaving the residual cast of bandaging beneath his shirt to cover what once was there. ]
I was thinking the same thing, [ Ryo starts, after a moment. The bright in his tone dulls, like a frost pressed against dark windows. It smudges what is beneath, an odd ache that curls within his ribs like ivy. His hand retreats as Akira's does, finds a place to rest beneath the shoulder strap that cuts dull into his flesh, even above the coat. It's heavy with wild vegetables, fruits — a few other items, here and there. His gaze moves, for a moment, to what fans around them. There's forest as far he can see, a green sea of trees. Ryo sighs through his nose. ]
There's no way I traveled as far as you did, but there's nothing about what I've seen that looks geographically familiar.
[ He glances back. The manifestation of the pack, somehow, isn't surprising to him. He'd seen an action akin to this before, the reconstitution of muscle and sinew, the weight of Akira's arm in his hands. The recollected sensation of blood smeared across his palms strikes him, but he does not say a word. Akira is here and Akira is whole. He is uninjured and that is all that matters now, in a place they both do not know.
He turns the pack around to the front of his hip, demonstrative. He pushes aside the flap, blind, with one hand as he roots in. ]
I got one too.
[ Though, what he comes up with shouldn't be in most bags. It's a book, its binding bent and battered. The pages are dog-eared in ways that reflect something well-read, a singular and makeshift bookmark holding the place the owner stopped reading it. He extends it to him. ]
Here.