[Sycamore had never thought much of Sanguis before Lysandre arrived; the red moon had no effect on him, and really just signified that Iris was approaching. Now, however, he found its arrival brought with it a deep sense of worry. He had been well aware of the fact that Lysandre's transformations were intensifying with each cycle, so it really shouldn't have been a surprise that he went Exalted so quickly. Originally, Sycamore had been anticipating his Exalted transformation, mainly because all the other Sanguis he'd spoken to seemed to think quite highly of it. That it was preferable, to the standard Sanguis transformation. More refined. Controlled.
Well. None of them had taken on the form of their world's god of death, he was fairly sure, which likely influenced their opinions somewhat. He'd barely managed to get a look at Lysandre in his fully transformed state, when he visited; his partner had taken one look at him and quickly driven him away, blue eyes blazing with a fury Sycamore hadn't seen in a very long time. Not since well before he'd arrived here, anyway. It reminded him of the incident in Lysandre's cafe, right before things really went downhill.
It had been terrifying, frankly. This time, Sycamore had respected Lysandre's wishes - it was hard to miss them, considering he'd yelled them at him as he slammed his apartment door shut - and left him alone for the remaining days of the Sanguis cycle. Cordis could not come soon enough, as far as Sycamore was concerned.
The moment the blue moon appeared - literally the moment, considering Sycamore had been watching out the window for it - he opens the chat function of his Holocaster.]
I should wait a few minutes...
[They're agonizing minutes, but Sycamore makes it to four - four whole minutes! - until he sends a message.]
Is it gone?
[He winces after that message is sent; the fact that his first post-Sanguis contact feels so inelegant, after he spent the remainder of the cycle fretting over exactly how he'd start the Cordis conversation, is frustrating. Perhaps unsurprising, but still...frustrating. He's quick to send another.]
[It takes a moment for there to be any sort of response; eventually it does come, however, even if it seems a bit awkward at the start.
He isn't sure what he's feeling just yet, the effects of Sanguis are still lifting; just the same, he doesn't particularly want to make Sycamore wait. The more rational part of his mind knows that doing so will just cause concern; the more irrational part...well, it's still that, just far less charitably-worded.]
[After that message is sent, Sycamore looks out the window at Cordis. It had taken a moment for him to work out why he was feeling so reluctant about heading over to Lysandre's apartment, and the answer bothers him - deeply.]
I can be there soon, of course.
[He's afraid.]
I just want you to be sure. Not doing it because you want to make me happy.
[It's the truth, for many reasons; for one, Sycamore refuses to entertain the idea of seeing Lysandre as someone to be feared - that can be nipped in the bud once he sees him in person - and...well, he's missed him on a personal level. Every moment they spend apart, these days, grates on him.
...
...he's really fallen hard, hasn't he. Another thought to mull over while he's on his way - the path is so routine by now that he doesn't even have to think about, and neither does Charizard. At least gliding through Lunatia's beautiful buildings provides a nice backdrop as he tries to get his thoughts in order.]
[As he gently raps his knuckles against Lysandre's door, Sycamore realises that - with all those other thoughts in his head - he hasn't put much into his appearance. Admittedly, he's wearing his usual pair of black jeans, paired with a loose-fitting blue jumper, so he's dressed nicely enough (red socks too, of course), but there are dark circles under his eyes that he knows Lysandre will notice immediately, and his hair could do with a wash.
Oh, well. Too late now. He runs his hands through his fringe, trying to make it sit somewhat nicely. Ugh, why didn't he think to make himself look decent...]
[One of the few small mercies here is that Lysandre does have at least some time to make himself look somewhat presentable; it isn't much, not as much as he'd like, but he's looking...well, not up to his standards, but what he's got is going to have to be close enough. Small things, really, he never does let himself look like complete hell, even when he's on his own, but he's not a total miracle worker either.
Sycamore is...likewise looking sort of rough, once the door is open; he'll move aside easily enough to allow him entry, at least.]
[Sycamore is still fiddling with his fringe as Lysandre opens the door, and he starts a bit when he sees him; as per usual, he looks fantastic. There's no sign of any references to Yveltal, either, despite the fact that he can't stop a flashback flickering behind his eyes. It makes him shake his head briefly, still with a hand in his hair.
FringeQuest is quickly abandoned as Lysandre steps aside, but Sycamore doesn't move past him to the couch just yet; instead, he slowly lifts a hand and places it against his cheek. He can't stop a quick tremor running through his fingers, but other than that, his touch is fairly steady. Dark circles or not, he wants to look at Lysandre properly.]
[His gaze darts slightly at Sycamore's touch, but it's nothing that he can't correct quickly enough; the look in his eyes is far calmer this time around, at least.]
[Sycamore continues to look into Lysandre's eyes for a moment longer, before sighing and moving toward the couch, gently tugging on his arm as he does so.]
Come on. Let's sit down for a bit.
[He's familiar enough with Lysandre to know he wouldn't get an honest answer to that question, at least not to begin with. But they can work their way there. Or would it be better to just focus on distractions and making Chroma?
[That much does seem to be genuine, at least, as he follows Sycamore easily to the couch; he doesn't seem hesitant, and he remains such as he comes to sit down next to him.]
[Once Lysandre has settled, Sycamore wraps a hand around his knee and ensures their legs are touching, closing his eyes as the Chroma begins to spark. He knows it's a ridiculous thought - they've both got more Chroma than they know what to do with - but...well, Lysandre has been alone for the past few days. It's...just to make sure.
[It's another thing that there's very little hesitation behind; there's no sense in denying it when they both know, and perhaps more to the point they both know exactly why it had chosen to look that way. So it's straightforward, and it's perhaps a bit clinical, but that's how discussing this is going to go if anyone wants it to move forward.]
Neither of us particularly need such heavy reminders of all of that, I'd imagine.
[It takes a little while for Sycamore to think of something more to say; he knows Lysandre is unlikely to break the silence, however, so he's content to take the time to formulate a decent response. It's blindingly obvious that he's not going to want to dig into everything that happened the past few days - at least not now. Sycamore isn't an idiot. He knows when to drop a subject.
You're the only person I've ever met who can make such lovely compliments sound so stubborn, you know.
[It's very clear that that isn't a problem, however, judging by how Sycamore rests his head against Lysandre's shoulder. Chroma...physical contact....goodness, it's only been a few days, but he missed this...]
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Well. None of them had taken on the form of their world's god of death, he was fairly sure, which likely influenced their opinions somewhat. He'd barely managed to get a look at Lysandre in his fully transformed state, when he visited; his partner had taken one look at him and quickly driven him away, blue eyes blazing with a fury Sycamore hadn't seen in a very long time. Not since well before he'd arrived here, anyway. It reminded him of the incident in Lysandre's cafe, right before things really went downhill.
It had been terrifying, frankly. This time, Sycamore had respected Lysandre's wishes - it was hard to miss them, considering he'd yelled them at him as he slammed his apartment door shut - and left him alone for the remaining days of the Sanguis cycle. Cordis could not come soon enough, as far as Sycamore was concerned.
The moment the blue moon appeared - literally the moment, considering Sycamore had been watching out the window for it - he opens the chat function of his Holocaster.]
I should wait a few minutes...
[They're agonizing minutes, but Sycamore makes it to four - four whole minutes! - until he sends a message.]
Is it gone?
[He winces after that message is sent; the fact that his first post-Sanguis contact feels so inelegant, after he spent the remainder of the cycle fretting over exactly how he'd start the Cordis conversation, is frustrating. Perhaps unsurprising, but still...frustrating. He's quick to send another.]
Are you okay, Lysandre?
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He isn't sure what he's feeling just yet, the effects of Sanguis are still lifting; just the same, he doesn't particularly want to make Sycamore wait. The more rational part of his mind knows that doing so will just cause concern; the more irrational part...well, it's still that, just far less charitably-worded.]
It is, yes. I'm doing well enough.
[He pauses, though, before sending another.]
You have my apologies, you know. For everything.
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[To his credit, Sycamore won't throw in his usual demands to come over; the temptation is there, but it feels...
...
...there's a reluctance present that bothers him.]
Are you hurt, at all?
[He doesn't just mean physically, of course.]
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Not to my knowledge.
[That much is prompt, at least. More referring to physically than anything, but that's going to have to suffice for now.]
I imagine you want to be here. I'm not opposed.
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[After that message is sent, Sycamore looks out the window at Cordis. It had taken a moment for him to work out why he was feeling so reluctant about heading over to Lysandre's apartment, and the answer bothers him - deeply.]
I can be there soon, of course.
[He's afraid.]
I just want you to be sure. Not doing it because you want to make me happy.
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[So there's that, at any rate.]
I did mean what I said, however. I'm not opposed. Or are you wanting something stronger?
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[It's the truth, for many reasons; for one, Sycamore refuses to entertain the idea of seeing Lysandre as someone to be feared - that can be nipped in the bud once he sees him in person - and...well, he's missed him on a personal level. Every moment they spend apart, these days, grates on him.
...
...he's really fallen hard, hasn't he. Another thought to mull over while he's on his way - the path is so routine by now that he doesn't even have to think about, and neither does Charizard. At least gliding through Lunatia's beautiful buildings provides a nice backdrop as he tries to get his thoughts in order.]
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Oh, well. Too late now. He runs his hands through his fringe, trying to make it sit somewhat nicely. Ugh, why didn't he think to make himself look decent...]
Lysandre...?
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Sycamore is...likewise looking sort of rough, once the door is open; he'll move aside easily enough to allow him entry, at least.]
...Augustine. Anywhere you'd like, of course.
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FringeQuest is quickly abandoned as Lysandre steps aside, but Sycamore doesn't move past him to the couch just yet; instead, he slowly lifts a hand and places it against his cheek. He can't stop a quick tremor running through his fingers, but other than that, his touch is fairly steady. Dark circles or not, he wants to look at Lysandre properly.]
...are you all right?
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Yes, of course.
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Come on. Let's sit down for a bit.
[He's familiar enough with Lysandre to know he wouldn't get an honest answer to that question, at least not to begin with. But they can work their way there. Or would it be better to just focus on distractions and making Chroma?
...well. He can work that out as they go.]
I've missed you, mon cheri.
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[That much does seem to be genuine, at least, as he follows Sycamore easily to the couch; he doesn't seem hesitant, and he remains such as he comes to sit down next to him.]
It's good to see you.
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[Once Lysandre has settled, Sycamore wraps a hand around his knee and ensures their legs are touching, closing his eyes as the Chroma begins to spark. He knows it's a ridiculous thought - they've both got more Chroma than they know what to do with - but...well, Lysandre has been alone for the past few days. It's...just to make sure.
...]
What...did you do? For the rest of Sanguis.
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Not much, admittedly, but I've been all right. Nothing catastrophic, at any rate.
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Do you...want to talk about it, at all...?
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[Sycamore's free hand is quickly tangled back in his hair; Lysandre's reaction is not surprising, but that doesn't make it any easier to digest.]
If it shocked me, it must have horrified you. Or...
[...]
...well, I know it horrified you. That's...why you made me leave, wasn't it? You were scared.
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[It's another thing that there's very little hesitation behind; there's no sense in denying it when they both know, and perhaps more to the point they both know exactly why it had chosen to look that way. So it's straightforward, and it's perhaps a bit clinical, but that's how discussing this is going to go if anyone wants it to move forward.]
Neither of us particularly need such heavy reminders of all of that, I'd imagine.
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[It takes a little while for Sycamore to think of something more to say; he knows Lysandre is unlikely to break the silence, however, so he's content to take the time to formulate a decent response. It's blindingly obvious that he's not going to want to dig into everything that happened the past few days - at least not now. Sycamore isn't an idiot. He knows when to drop a subject.
...]
...at least there were no tentacles?
[A 'decent response'....]
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I still say that wasn't that horrendous, you know.
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It was dreadful and you know it. I much prefer the cute bunny ears!
[Especially since, you know. no Chroma-siphoning, and all that.
...
...he'll press their legs together a little firmer. Chroma...]
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[Yes, yes, the Chroma is nice...]
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[It's very clear that that isn't a problem, however, judging by how Sycamore rests his head against Lysandre's shoulder. Chroma...physical contact....goodness, it's only been a few days, but he missed this...]
Lucky for you, I find it cute.
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[...]
It's good to have you here.
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