[ Cathaway isn't answering him. She's too far, and his voice is faint and strained too thin to reach her. He hasn't yet reached out to Prince, and now he's struggling to from the darkness of a small rented room in Minte.
It's the last day of the Avera 9 mission, and Aoba is out of the synthesized pain medication Cathaway sent with him. Swallowed it down without regard for what could happen in the final days spent planet-side, and now he's regretting it deeply. Curled up on a cheap inn pod, blanket tangled around him, head held tightly in his hands.
It feels like it will break apart if he doesn't keep holding it together.
With every throb the pain grows more difficult to keep from spreading over the connection, and flecks of it flow outwards like drops spilled from an overflowing cup, with no regard for where they land. He's clumsy as he reaches for Prince, brushing against others, fumbling blindly. Finally his thoughts brush against what feels like cool metal, and he presses into it. ]
[The flickers of pain across the connection have been almost regular since they had left the new Hosts to their own devices on the planet. They had been- foolish, careless, irresponsible and arrogant in their power and their position.
And so the spattering hissing flickers of it don't draw his immediate attention. The prodding at his mental link does, and his attention opens the connection further, allows Aoba to find purchase.
The plea is enough to have him breach the barriers he usually put up, pressing down the line in turn, ghosting over the corners of Aoba's mind, pain and need and helplessness. Prince leaves little in return, the slightest brush of something- a concern tempered responsibility. It lasts only the shortest time before he pulls away, although he doesn't close the connection entirely.]
Stay, I will fetch you.
[It doesn't invite conversation. It is a statement of fact, with the certainty of intent. His word was as good as any other part of him.]
[ Aoba makes no effort to reply with words formed in the mind, the strain of it too much against the throbbing beats of migraine. There's gratitude though, and it washes over him when the Prince replies. The growing anxiety of not making it to the docks in time is lifted. That much is a relief.
It's a short-lived relief. Hearing another voice in his head, however brief, only adds to the pain. It draws a gasp from his lips, and his spine curls in tighter. Yet some part of him he can't understand wants to hear it again, not for the security or comfort of it, but for the pain intensified. He can't stand it, can barely open his eyes because it, and somehow he wants more.
The connection between them opens, then narrows, and Aoba knows the Prince is on his way. The one craving his voice knows too. ]
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If Mom don't answer, call Dad
It's the last day of the Avera 9 mission, and Aoba is out of the synthesized pain medication Cathaway sent with him. Swallowed it down without regard for what could happen in the final days spent planet-side, and now he's regretting it deeply. Curled up on a cheap inn pod, blanket tangled around him, head held tightly in his hands.
It feels like it will break apart if he doesn't keep holding it together.
With every throb the pain grows more difficult to keep from spreading over the connection, and flecks of it flow outwards like drops spilled from an overflowing cup, with no regard for where they land. He's clumsy as he reaches for Prince, brushing against others, fumbling blindly. Finally his thoughts brush against what feels like cool metal, and he presses into it. ]
( Help... )
[ Faint, pained, and far from where he is. ]
no subject
And so the spattering hissing flickers of it don't draw his immediate attention. The prodding at his mental link does, and his attention opens the connection further, allows Aoba to find purchase.
The plea is enough to have him breach the barriers he usually put up, pressing down the line in turn, ghosting over the corners of Aoba's mind, pain and need and helplessness. Prince leaves little in return, the slightest brush of something- a concern tempered responsibility. It lasts only the shortest time before he pulls away, although he doesn't close the connection entirely.]
Stay, I will fetch you.
[It doesn't invite conversation. It is a statement of fact, with the certainty of intent. His word was as good as any other part of him.]
no subject
It's a short-lived relief. Hearing another voice in his head, however brief, only adds to the pain. It draws a gasp from his lips, and his spine curls in tighter. Yet some part of him he can't understand wants to hear it again, not for the security or comfort of it, but for the pain intensified. He can't stand it, can barely open his eyes because it, and somehow he wants more.
The connection between them opens, then narrows, and Aoba knows the Prince is on his way. The one craving his voice knows too. ]