[At that, Wrath fully meets Envy's eyes (possibly for the first time since arriving), and that faint ghost of an almost-smile-- the one he'd had when Scar showed up on the stairs-- flickers across his face again.]
[And then a familiar voice calls his name and he whips around to face it, the brief calmness instantly morphing back into the skittish, about-to-bolt stare he'd had at the door. This is not in any way her fault, of course... there was simply never going to be any avoiding distress.]
[It's her... it's her.]
[Dissociation may have kept him from panicking while he waited, but... now she's right there, looking at him, looking simultaneously exactly the same and nothing at all like he remembers. Because what he remembers of her is both happy, healthy, here... and laying deathly still on the cold concrete floor, slowly liquefying into scarlet. And coming at him very very fast with cold fire in her eyes and claws whistling through the air, but that's not even entering his mind at the moment, not really. Despite the hollow horror in his own face as he looks at her, he is NOT afraid... he is ashamed.]
[Jerkily, with all the grace of a lame deer, Wrath lurches upright off the couch-- stumbling and nearly making Son spill his water in the process. (The Cubone lets out a startled noise, but manages not to drop his glass).]
[Once he's standing up, the... differences are probably immediately apparent. The automail where his stolen arm and leg used to be... some of the old roundness in his cheeks exchanged for a couple inches of height... and deep, deep shadows under his eyes. He's scrawny, covered in little scratches from the road, utterly exhausted, and he looks... like he has no idea what to do, or what to say.]
no subject
[And then a familiar voice calls his name and he whips around to face it, the brief calmness instantly morphing back into the skittish, about-to-bolt stare he'd had at the door. This is not in any way her fault, of course... there was simply never going to be any avoiding distress.]
[It's her... it's her.]
[Dissociation may have kept him from panicking while he waited, but... now she's right there, looking at him, looking simultaneously exactly the same and nothing at all like he remembers. Because what he remembers of her is both happy, healthy, here... and laying deathly still on the cold concrete floor, slowly liquefying into scarlet.
And coming at him very very fast with cold fire in her eyes and claws whistling through the air, but that's not even entering his mind at the moment, not really. Despite the hollow horror in his own face as he looks at her, he is NOT afraid... he is ashamed.][Jerkily, with all the grace of a lame deer, Wrath lurches upright off the couch-- stumbling and nearly making Son spill his water in the process. (The Cubone lets out a startled noise, but manages not to drop his glass).]
[Once he's standing up, the... differences are probably immediately apparent. The automail where his stolen arm and leg used to be... some of the old roundness in his cheeks exchanged for a couple inches of height... and deep, deep shadows under his eyes. He's scrawny, covered in little scratches from the road, utterly exhausted, and he looks... like he has no idea what to do, or what to say.]
[He has NOT been taking his vitamins.]
... L... Lust, I...
[... Is all he manages to get out at first.]