Memories they haunt his mind

[disciplewhomsignlessloves]

Who| The Disciple & The Signless
What| Post arena checkups and piling, with callouts and talks of dumb shit. Also sitting on Vantases
Where| Twelfth floor, Signless' room
When| A few days after the death of Signless
Warnings/Notes| Mush perhaps and frank talk of death and amputation probably?

If she's honest, it's strange watching him die from the outside. It usually happens in front of her or she hears his name called out in the death listings. So watching him go down like this, helpless to save him and having to watch the process--she doesn't like it in the slightest. His horn cracks and she winces, turns away for the rest. Perfect audio brings the cries to her ears but it's over soon enough. It hurts. If she'd survived that leg, she could have been there, been there for that idiotic fight. For this inevitable death. She didn't and it's over. Over and done.

The delay between his death and his return at least gave her time to think. The Initiate was still out there but he probably wouldn't last much longer. She needed to keep them seperated until Terezi returned.

And well, there was that to talk about.

She gave it a day before she started camping out in the Twelfth District's lounge. She got a few weird looks, but like clockwork she took the elevator up around noon, peeked in his room and stuck around until 7, monopolizing their television to keep up with the arena. One lounge was much like another and this one was easier to keep a watch from.

Her habit was rewarded a few days later when she went to check his room and found him already up. He's swept immediately into a hug, warm and comforting, even if it gets hair in his face and claws snagged in his shirt.

And without really asking, she's up again, finding blankets--far more than he could really use on the bed she thinks--and dragging them into a suitable pile. Asking would be silly, she's seen the arena. They both have things to talk about and not starting as soon as she could would just end up with a repeat of last time.

When it seems suitably piled and nested, she glances back at him.

"I know about it all. So, I figured..." A wave at the pile and she pats it, hopefully invitingly.

Comments

[69problems]

She doesn't need to pat it more than once. He climbs into the pile with her and nestles close, clutching her tight. The earlier hug was nice but not enough, not after all the turmoil he's felt since he arrived back in the Capitol. She's not the first to find him but she's the first one that he can hold tight and take comfort in while he tries to work through everything he did in the arena.

"Thank you," he murmurs into her shoulder. "You're so good to me."