< I know. Even if we die here, we come back, so for all I know if things are bad enough for you to need it, it might just be easier to die and return. But... >
[A moment's hesitation. They can't be sure of this. It might even be a waste of resources. They know they'd get an earful if anyone were to hear about this moment back home.
But it feels like the right thing to do.]
< You said something about maybe being able to bring something back with you. Even if we don't know for sure if it's possible, maybe it'll help. >
< As long as his head's intact and he hasn't died, the HP ampule will take care of everything else. >
[Altius's brow furrows further. The offer is beyond thoughtful. Logically, he should take it; for his facade, it would only make sense to accept it, to thank Dante, to hope for that possibility. If he protests too much after expressing his worries over Ferran, what would that say? About the truth of what he said, about why he'd refuse?
The corners of his lips pulled downward, there's a grim, focused look on his face, more than Dante might expect out of someone accepting something that could be important to either of them.
[But then the world is spinning again in a screeching swirl of light and sound and everything, and Altius reels back with his hand over his eyes, words cut off in the back of his throat with a noise of pain.]
[As much as he appreciates the concern in their exclamation, the sound only serves as a hammer to his senses, and his shoulders tense under their touch as his free arm keeps him upright. He feels like he's been knocked off a building, with none of his usual reflexes to rebalance him.]
Sorry, [he offers as a strained mutter, though he can't quite parse what Dante is saying at first. Still, his attempt to squint his eyes open gives him the shape of the pillow in Dante's hands even with his doubled vision, and he slowly, carefully angles himself to lie sideways to avoid making the disorientation worse.]
Damn it. [This forsaken place and its tests. How long is this going to keep happening before the affliction gives up?]
[They wince apologetically as they feel him tense, and wait until they're sure he's going to stay resting before they grab a chair and sit across from him.]
< Don't apologize. You still need some time to recover. I should have been letting you rest this whole time. >
[Hand pressed against his eyes again, he tries to steady his mind and his breathing despite the intensity of that not-light Dante harbors, to focus on restoring himself. He can't sense the presence of whatever's causing this condition, which is part of why it keeps taking him by surprise.
To keep up with this, he is going to need much more rest than usual. How aggravating, when who knows what those snakes or the other Chosen might get up to in the meantime...
There's a reluctant acceptance in his slow, quiet response.]
[To try to assuage their worry, with a slightly lighter tone than the pounding of his head would encourage him to use,]
Understood. ... thank you.
[And for a short time, he will do that. But the advice he'd give Dante doesn't take into account what he thinks himself capable of—and when things get worse he'll fight to try to get into that garden for a solution, only to land himself in the clinic, wondering if he's going to survive in rare moments of consciousness. In the end, all he can do is wait and hope for it to pass.]
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expiationlogs2025-05-13 12:07 pm
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[A moment's hesitation. They can't be sure of this. It might even be a waste of resources. They know they'd get an earful if anyone were to hear about this moment back home.
But it feels like the right thing to do.]
< You said something about maybe being able to bring something back with you. Even if we don't know for sure if it's possible, maybe it'll help. >
< As long as his head's intact and he hasn't died, the HP ampule will take care of everything else. >
1/2
The corners of his lips pulled downward, there's a grim, focused look on his face, more than Dante might expect out of someone accepting something that could be important to either of them.
He can't do it. He takes in a breath.]
... there's something I need to te—
2/2
no subject
[The word comes in a sharp whistle and bells as they hop to their feet, a hand immediately going for Altius's shoulder.
The ampule is tucked away somewhere safe once again, and Dante looks around before snatching up a throw pillow from somewhere nearby.]
< Here, lay down. You should rest. >
no subject
Sorry, [he offers as a strained mutter, though he can't quite parse what Dante is saying at first. Still, his attempt to squint his eyes open gives him the shape of the pillow in Dante's hands even with his doubled vision, and he slowly, carefully angles himself to lie sideways to avoid making the disorientation worse.]
Damn it. [This forsaken place and its tests. How long is this going to keep happening before the affliction gives up?]
no subject
< Don't apologize. You still need some time to recover. I should have been letting you rest this whole time. >
no subject
To keep up with this, he is going to need much more rest than usual. How aggravating, when who knows what those snakes or the other Chosen might get up to in the meantime...
There's a reluctant acceptance in his slow, quiet response.]
When this passes... I suppose I'll go home.
no subject
< You should. I'll help you get there too. Just... From now on, follow the same sort of advice you'd give if it were me in your situation? >
no subject
Understood. ... thank you.
[And for a short time, he will do that. But the advice he'd give Dante doesn't take into account what he thinks himself capable of—and when things get worse he'll fight to try to get into that garden for a solution, only to land himself in the clinic, wondering if he's going to survive in rare moments of consciousness. In the end, all he can do is wait and hope for it to pass.]