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 Posted: Wed Oct 26, 2016 11:09 pm
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They made it home.
Somehow, they made it home.
Thorne spent an infinite amount of time in the shower following that, his head leaned against the tiling, eyes closed, the water streaming over his lips and mouth and neck and washing away the ichor that clung to him, the stench of rot and death and decay. Life at the end of a cycle. The warmth at the small of his back continued to flutter and pulse, like a second heartbeat, and he wondered if he wanted to touch it, question it just yet.
Instead, he tugged gently at the strange thing inside of his head, like a string left for him, a gentle ebbing flow of indeterminate thought and emotion just beyond his reach. He wondered if it was something that only worked in Other Ashdown. Something that was gone now that they were returned to Coalsmoke, the silence of the quiet world.
Chris? he thought, a simple question. He didn't know if the other could hear it. But if he could, Thorne sent something after it - not words necessarily, but a bundle of emotions - want and longing, a need to be closer. An invitation because he wasn't sure where the other had gone once he'd dived into the shower.
A curiosity.
How close are you to me?
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Posted: Wed Oct 26, 2016 11:19 pm
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Getting home was a blessing.
It was times like those in Other Ashdown that made Chris realize how grateful he was to have somewhere to come back to, especially someplace where he wasn't alone. Coalsmoke was warmth and comfort and something Chris was endlessly, eternally grateful for.
He had managed to get his shoes off somehow in the entrance way and was laying on the bed now, face pressed into a pillow. It smelled like him and Thorne and it was comforting, enough to calm him down. Whatever adrenaline he had been running off of had long wore off and moving was impossible now. He had really done a number on himself in the garden.
As he lay there, slightly drifting, his mind was free to wander. To poke about and eventually it went to the bond, the simple connection between his and Thorne's mind. He was about to poke at it but it seemed Thorne was quicker at the draw, between them.
Thorne, he sent back, tired but smiling. It seemed it still worked and he sorted through the sudden emotions, feeling oddly guilty. He wanted to get up, wanted to join him, but he wasn't even sure he could get his pants off. Put him in the shower and well, that'd be a recipe for disaster.
He sent his own longing back, a thread of the exhaustion he felt. He didn't want Thorne to know the full extent and to scold him, not yet. I'm in the bedroom, I can hear you in the shower. Why?
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