01-02-2023, 01:11 AM
[[continued from Reacclimating]]
Without Nox, Kallisti no longer felt quite like home. The silence was deafening, and Raffe didn’t choose to spend the night listening to it. He mostly wandered, head down, expression bleak. The streets blurred. No destination lured. He didn’t want company. The wallet was like an anchor in his pocket but he couldn’t bring himself to listen to the message Nox had left, though neither could he bring himself to relinquish the weight of it. Maybe it was the only thing preventing him from burning up to dust. Though on desolate reflection perhaps that would have been preferable. He didn’t want any of the thoughts buzzing endless around in his head either.
Instinct brought him back to the church. Shadows clung to its shabby exterior, and he supposed it was as close to sanctuary as he was likely to find tonight. Ekeziel was sitting on the steps smoking something that did not smell like a cigarette, blessedly alone of his usual entourage. But Raffe’s steps faltered, regretful, as he glanced at the heavy shadows of the doorway behind him. He didn’t want to explain himself. He didn’t want pity. This had been a mistake.
“Well you look like shit. You want something to take the edge off?” The other man glanced up under the dark cloud of his hair, but he didn’t stare. If there was a smirk on his lips, it was presently covered by a long draw and release.
Raffe collapsed on the steps. Rested his head in his hands.
“That Sickness really biting you, huh.”
“I know you said you could help before. But no one can help, Zeke. Because I don’t want it.”
Ezekiel laughed. He sounded a little high. The power wasn’t the last thing Raffe wanted to talk about right now, but it was close. Only now he’d sat down, exhaustion depleted what little strength remained in his body. When he realised he wasn’t getting back up he sagged further. His hoarse voice scratched quieter. Resigned. “It’s like fire and ash and I just don’t fucking want it.”
“I can always help, Raffe. Go sleep off your sins. I’ll find you in the morning.”
Without Nox, Kallisti no longer felt quite like home. The silence was deafening, and Raffe didn’t choose to spend the night listening to it. He mostly wandered, head down, expression bleak. The streets blurred. No destination lured. He didn’t want company. The wallet was like an anchor in his pocket but he couldn’t bring himself to listen to the message Nox had left, though neither could he bring himself to relinquish the weight of it. Maybe it was the only thing preventing him from burning up to dust. Though on desolate reflection perhaps that would have been preferable. He didn’t want any of the thoughts buzzing endless around in his head either.
Instinct brought him back to the church. Shadows clung to its shabby exterior, and he supposed it was as close to sanctuary as he was likely to find tonight. Ekeziel was sitting on the steps smoking something that did not smell like a cigarette, blessedly alone of his usual entourage. But Raffe’s steps faltered, regretful, as he glanced at the heavy shadows of the doorway behind him. He didn’t want to explain himself. He didn’t want pity. This had been a mistake.
“Well you look like shit. You want something to take the edge off?” The other man glanced up under the dark cloud of his hair, but he didn’t stare. If there was a smirk on his lips, it was presently covered by a long draw and release.
Raffe collapsed on the steps. Rested his head in his hands.
“That Sickness really biting you, huh.”
“I know you said you could help before. But no one can help, Zeke. Because I don’t want it.”
Ezekiel laughed. He sounded a little high. The power wasn’t the last thing Raffe wanted to talk about right now, but it was close. Only now he’d sat down, exhaustion depleted what little strength remained in his body. When he realised he wasn’t getting back up he sagged further. His hoarse voice scratched quieter. Resigned. “It’s like fire and ash and I just don’t fucking want it.”
“I can always help, Raffe. Go sleep off your sins. I’ll find you in the morning.”