10-30-2019, 09:11 PM
Voices punctured their bubble, but Raffe did not listen. Even when Nox drew back he was slow to respond, seeking to recapture the kiss until the other man’s forehead pressed light against his own. His breathing remained deep, still lost in the twining words of that low whisper -- at least until panic erupted the last shades of his peace. Raffe’s eyes widened as Nox startled back. He hadn’t realised how many people were in the room now. Hadn’t wanted to. But it was the odd sensation that Nox’s fear appeared to have a presence of its own that burrowed something uncomfortable in his stomach. He flinched, unsure what he saw when the IV line suddenly severed, but never moved away. A frown swept the chaos as a hand swept his curls. The other wrapped light against Nox’s wrist; not to trap him, but to remind of his presence. He wasn’t a channeler. He wasn’t anything. But he would protect as best he could anyway.
Dorian took control before Raffe had to do anything more than brace Nox’s weight. An arm circled around, wondering how quickly the pain relief would gutter. A flash of unease took in the injury again, but only because he hated to think of the hurt. How could a hospital lose blood? Possibly infected blood? But the incredulity of that was distant to that one word. Home. He really shouldn’t let it lull him. But he knew he’d find the damn dog if he had to scour every street in Moscow, and he’d teach Nox not to kill the lotus plant, and he’d look forward to seeing that arrogant grin each morning. You’re an idiot, Raffe.
His hand massaged where it rested. “Home,” he promised. The scratch of his voice never managed great volumes, but the words were pitched low for Nox alone. There was a soothe to them, the same way he sometimes spoke to the plants of his windowsill.
Dorian took control before Raffe had to do anything more than brace Nox’s weight. An arm circled around, wondering how quickly the pain relief would gutter. A flash of unease took in the injury again, but only because he hated to think of the hurt. How could a hospital lose blood? Possibly infected blood? But the incredulity of that was distant to that one word. Home. He really shouldn’t let it lull him. But he knew he’d find the damn dog if he had to scour every street in Moscow, and he’d teach Nox not to kill the lotus plant, and he’d look forward to seeing that arrogant grin each morning. You’re an idiot, Raffe.
His hand massaged where it rested. “Home,” he promised. The scratch of his voice never managed great volumes, but the words were pitched low for Nox alone. There was a soothe to them, the same way he sometimes spoke to the plants of his windowsill.