Who: Waver Velvet & whoever When: throughout September Where: Dorchacht (beginning to mid-Sept... ignore the headers) & Aefenglom (late Sept) What: trouble in Dorch, recovering in Aefenglom Warnings: drug use, auction and monster slavery stuff
With everyone focused on clearing out and no obvious suspicions about who might be leaving the streets closest to the market, they're able to put a fair amount of distance behind them relatively quick. The further they get, the slower Ozymandias allows their pace to become until he feels it's safe to stop both in terms of the military presence and Waver's grip on the rational portion of his mind.
The distance is a relief, and when Ozymandias finally slows them down, Waver's heartbeat slows too. He still looks on high alert, ears up and tail rigid, fangs longer than they should have been, but his eyes are clear. Just faintly... haunted.
He shakes his head.
"No." Not really. A few bruises, one already forming around his pale throat where the cloak had dragged and pulled across it, but no real damage. He cut it before it could actually bruise deeper, too, so he's perfectly all right physically. Shaken, but not injured.
"But..."
Waver looks down guiltily at Ozymandias's wrist. His fingers curl into loose fists as if to hide his claws.
Because Waver looks so pointedly at his wrist, Ozymandias lifts the injured wrist and spares it a passing glance. It's beginning to ache somewhat now with less to distract from it, but he's suffered far worse injuries than this. Thus, it is only a glance rather than any sort of inspection of just how deeply Waver's claws managed to dig.
He shakes his head, dismissing the apology altogether.
"You did well to do as I commanded without question." Looking Waver over for a moment longer just to be sure there are really no injuries he's attempting to hide from Ozymandias... He wraps his uninjured arm tightly around Waver's shoulders with a quiet sigh. "You are not my vassal, but I would not have any harm befall you. I am glad you are unharmed."
Waver's too distraught and emotionally exhausted to even pretend he doesn't want the hug. He stays there, when Ozymandias wraps an arm around him, leaning into his chest and pressing close for a few moments.
"I'm fine," he repeats flatly, and doesn't mean it. Physically, it's true enough. It could have been much worse.
But his thoughts linger on the Monsters they'd left behind, trapped and tied up at the mercy of falling debris or fire or worse. He feels sick.
Ozymandias doesn't really believe Waver when he says he's fine, at least not beyond the physical sense of it, but he doesn't challenge the claim.
"I know."
Ozymandias speaks quietly to acknowledge what Waver is likely thinking but not saying, rubbing at Waver's arm a little. It doesn't need to be said for Ozymandias to take a guess; the former mage's heart is simply far too gentle for certain ugly realities.
He feels like an idiot. Logically, Waver knows there really was no other option, and they only would have gotten hurt or further caught up in the mess of the riot. He knows they weren't equipped to help those people, if they even could have figured out how to free them from the bonds that very likely had enchantments attached. He knows all that, but it still makes his stomach twist in on itself, brings a bad taste to the back of his tongue.
He sighs, gently pulling back from Ozymandias after a few more moments of indulging in the comfort of his warmth.
Ozymandias allows Waver to pull away when he's ready, letting his arm drift down his back and then away. He passes no judgment on him for seeking out the warmth or for his discomfort with the decision that had to be made.
"I would not have said it if it weren't true," he says with a nod, his attention turning back to the injuries at his wrist. By now, the claw marks have stopped bleeding, leaving behind dried streaks on his arm. "It looks worse than it is, I assure you, but I will see to it that it is tended to."
Waver just stands there awkwardly for another moment, looking absolutely miserable, but there's nothing to be done. He already apologized. He already accepted (or, rather, is trying to accept) that running was the best and only actually sound decision. What else is there to do?
His ears swivel, tracking the sounds of shouts in the distance. He swallows.
"...let's head back to the Coven, then."
To get Ozymandias taken care of, presumably. Waver just doesn't want to walk alone.
If there was something Ozymandias might be able to do that would ease Waver's heart, he thinks that he would do it. But there is simply nothing that can be done. Waver must find a way to set aside whatever guilt he is carrying with him and focus his attention on the present. Or perhaps the future. With the way Waver's ear swivels in the direction of the riot, Ozymandias tries to keep his attention here with him by placing a hand on top of his head. No roughhousing or petting as he otherwise might. Just a quiet reminder that he is here and he is not alone.
"And then let us find Iskandar. I am sure he will be relieved to see you for himself by the time word about the market reaches him."
Someone else might tell Waver to think nothing of it when he expresses gratitude. One would need to be exceptionally heartless or cruel to have left him there, after all. But Ozymandias' actions were not inspired by obligation or basic decency. He had been willing to do whatever it took to get Waver out of that situation and to this relative safety.
"Of course," he says, taking his hand back. Though small and subdued -- certainly for Ozymandias in any case -- he smiles with kindness before turning and leading the way back to the Black City's Coven. "Come. We have a ways to go before we reach the Coven again."
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no subject
"Are you hurt?"
The crowd wasn't exactly gentle with Waver.
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He shakes his head.
"No." Not really. A few bruises, one already forming around his pale throat where the cloak had dragged and pulled across it, but no real damage. He cut it before it could actually bruise deeper, too, so he's perfectly all right physically. Shaken, but not injured.
"But..."
Waver looks down guiltily at Ozymandias's wrist. His fingers curl into loose fists as if to hide his claws.
"Sorry."
no subject
He shakes his head, dismissing the apology altogether.
"You did well to do as I commanded without question." Looking Waver over for a moment longer just to be sure there are really no injuries he's attempting to hide from Ozymandias... He wraps his uninjured arm tightly around Waver's shoulders with a quiet sigh. "You are not my vassal, but I would not have any harm befall you. I am glad you are unharmed."
no subject
"I'm fine," he repeats flatly, and doesn't mean it. Physically, it's true enough. It could have been much worse.
But his thoughts linger on the Monsters they'd left behind, trapped and tied up at the mercy of falling debris or fire or worse. He feels sick.
no subject
"I know."
Ozymandias speaks quietly to acknowledge what Waver is likely thinking but not saying, rubbing at Waver's arm a little. It doesn't need to be said for Ozymandias to take a guess; the former mage's heart is simply far too gentle for certain ugly realities.
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He sighs, gently pulling back from Ozymandias after a few more moments of indulging in the comfort of his warmth.
"You sure your hand's okay?"
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"I would not have said it if it weren't true," he says with a nod, his attention turning back to the injuries at his wrist. By now, the claw marks have stopped bleeding, leaving behind dried streaks on his arm. "It looks worse than it is, I assure you, but I will see to it that it is tended to."
no subject
Waver just stands there awkwardly for another moment, looking absolutely miserable, but there's nothing to be done. He already apologized. He already accepted (or, rather, is trying to accept) that running was the best and only actually sound decision. What else is there to do?
His ears swivel, tracking the sounds of shouts in the distance. He swallows.
"...let's head back to the Coven, then."
To get Ozymandias taken care of, presumably. Waver just doesn't want to walk alone.
no subject
"And then let us find Iskandar. I am sure he will be relieved to see you for himself by the time word about the market reaches him."
no subject
"Yeah. That sounds good."
A pause, his gaze dropping away again uncomfortably.
"...thanks."
no subject
"Of course," he says, taking his hand back. Though small and subdued -- certainly for Ozymandias in any case -- he smiles with kindness before turning and leading the way back to the Black City's Coven. "Come. We have a ways to go before we reach the Coven again."