[ They can so easily communicate without words in so many cases, but when it comes to this... This is the one fundamental schism between the two of them, the one place where Steak can't quite wrap his head around Red Wine's point of view.
And when you hate someone quite as intensely as Steak hates Red Wine, that's saying something.
His fingers dig into the countertop and he eventually pushes himself away from it, slowly crossing the space between them, folding his arms as he comes to a halt a few inches from Red Wine. Perhaps all isn't entirely true — here and now, he worries about these transformations, the war of the two parts of his form which has carried on without him vocalising any of it. But he has to be alright, as long as Red Wine is here, because they've never failed at fighting anything before.
Even becoming monsters isn't enough to stop them. It can't be. ]
...
[ Red eyes bore a hole into Red Wine's own, flicking down pale skin to pursed lips and back again as his arms unwind and a hand reaches forward, fingers brushing lightly against the back of Red Wine's hand. ]
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And when you hate someone quite as intensely as Steak hates Red Wine, that's saying something.
His fingers dig into the countertop and he eventually pushes himself away from it, slowly crossing the space between them, folding his arms as he comes to a halt a few inches from Red Wine. Perhaps all isn't entirely true — here and now, he worries about these transformations, the war of the two parts of his form which has carried on without him vocalising any of it. But he has to be alright, as long as Red Wine is here, because they've never failed at fighting anything before.
Even becoming monsters isn't enough to stop them. It can't be. ]
...
[ Red eyes bore a hole into Red Wine's own, flicking down pale skin to pursed lips and back again as his arms unwind and a hand reaches forward, fingers brushing lightly against the back of Red Wine's hand. ]