04-16-2020, 02:39 PM
I don’t know. His heart sank, though he had kind of been expecting the answer. Hunger explained the strange cafe stop, and he slowly considered the implications of the rest. But infections could be cured, right? Raffe was a dreamer. He always had been. He didn’t dwell on how high the mountain might be, he just started climbing.
“You don’t have to worry about me, Nox. I bounce back pretty well, apparently.” He wryly touched the rough edges of his scar, though it wasn’t much of an endorsement. Raffe was a survivor, he’d had to be his whole life, but it wasn’t the same thing as being capable. Not drowning wasn’t a skill, swimming was. Nox already pointed out that Raffe was the sort to jump straight in the river.
“Right,” he said to the plan. They weren’t things he could help with, certainly not in such lofty circles as the Ascendancy, and he carefully sidestepped the thought of Nox not walking away from the encounter. But there were enquiries of his own he could make in the meantime; Oriena had connections, if she hadn’t burned them all to hell by now. If he could even find her to ask. Carmen would know.
He took it well, all things considered. None of the worries had gone, but he breathed a little easier. Maybe the anchor of those laced fingers worked both ways. “So you think the Atharim-” the way he said the word, he still wasn't overly familiar with it; Oriena just called them “snakes” “-might be able to cure you? That guy seemed more the shoot first kind. How the hell will you convince him?” It wasn’t doubt, just curiosity.
Raffe leaned in a little then. The sincerity of Nox’s plea strengthened his grip, and the warmth travelled up his arm. He whispered into his ear. “You know, I didn’t plan to.” He said it with half a grin, remembering quite vividly how Nox had left him speechless that first day before he went to collect Nova. “Didn’t ever plan to.”
“You don’t have to worry about me, Nox. I bounce back pretty well, apparently.” He wryly touched the rough edges of his scar, though it wasn’t much of an endorsement. Raffe was a survivor, he’d had to be his whole life, but it wasn’t the same thing as being capable. Not drowning wasn’t a skill, swimming was. Nox already pointed out that Raffe was the sort to jump straight in the river.
“Right,” he said to the plan. They weren’t things he could help with, certainly not in such lofty circles as the Ascendancy, and he carefully sidestepped the thought of Nox not walking away from the encounter. But there were enquiries of his own he could make in the meantime; Oriena had connections, if she hadn’t burned them all to hell by now. If he could even find her to ask. Carmen would know.
He took it well, all things considered. None of the worries had gone, but he breathed a little easier. Maybe the anchor of those laced fingers worked both ways. “So you think the Atharim-” the way he said the word, he still wasn't overly familiar with it; Oriena just called them “snakes” “-might be able to cure you? That guy seemed more the shoot first kind. How the hell will you convince him?” It wasn’t doubt, just curiosity.
Raffe leaned in a little then. The sincerity of Nox’s plea strengthened his grip, and the warmth travelled up his arm. He whispered into his ear. “You know, I didn’t plan to.” He said it with half a grin, remembering quite vividly how Nox had left him speechless that first day before he went to collect Nova. “Didn’t ever plan to.”