crowspace | For coldestsmile.

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For coldestsmile.

Koriko had, in truth, not been that bad.

Waking up from Koriko to find herself back in Mogeko Castle, that had been bad. Having to fight her way through Mogeko Castle a, what, third time? That had been aggravating. And throwing herself through the portal on the top floor, to find herself in a world of constant war between angels and demons-

Well, at least she already knew somebody there. Sherbet recognized her, and that meant she was sticking close to him for as long as he didn't get sick of her. So far he hadn't dumped her out in the cold (heh).

It's not that she couldn't defend herself... it's just that she wasn't going to be going up against a demon and winning anytime soon, as much as she trained. At least she wasn't sitting around doing nothing.

As harsh of a world as this was, it wasn't the castle, and that counted for something.

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Oh, he's coming back. Just a minute or two later than he'd've LIKED, mostly because they kept looking for him in actually smart places. Imagine that. ... He'll have to be more careful. His wings are a little singed, as is most of him, but when he comes back to her in a mess, he's. More than a little worried. He's gonna heal her just to be sure it's not HER blood she's covered in, because man, he really dropped the ball on that one.

"You okay...? I miscalculated. ... I didn't think one of them would find you."

His fault. ... Although, he has to say, there has never been anything sexy about her to him until he's seen her covered in demon blood like that.

It's some of both of their blood, and she sighs in relief when she's healed and the pain goes away.

"I'm fine. More importantly, are you okay? You had to deal with more of them than me."

... He whimpers. But it's not because he's in pain. He holds up the long piece of cloth around his neck.

"One of them singed my scarf!" And also his wings, and maybe his face a bit, but mostly that was the point of wearing the layers: so he wouldn't end up fried. He REALLY liked this scarf. ... Oh well...

"A-anyway, we should... get moving..." His poor scarf. RIP scarf. "Maybe also get you cleaned up, at some point."

She has to try not to snicker at his distress, and mostly succeeds. Even if his scarf is kind of a silly thing to focus on, he's been good to her, so she shouldn't laugh at him.

"That'd be nice, but don't make it a priority or anything. Not the first time I've been covered in blood."

It's a really stupid thing to be focused on, but he cares more about that then he probably ever will his own body. If he gets horrendously injured, usually, he can heal it. Usually. Except for that one time.

"We should hurry before they return, anyway."

It's bust now, so he'll offer that poor scarf to her so she can at least wipe her face off, before they hoof it. He'll have, like, a funeral pyre for it later or something... a funeral boat? Something. Her having demon blood on her might be useful, though. It'll help cover her own scent. He knows how to mask his own, what way the wind's blowing, all of that. So he can figure out a path from here... past that little outpost.

She wipes her face off and carries the scarf along as she follows him further down the path. Picking up her pace isn't hard - she's better at sprinting than marathons, but she's still a pretty fast walker in general.

"How far is it to your territory?"

... He glances back at her and breaks a smile.

"8.75 miles. Exactly. From that little wall behind us." Now that they're going at a nice, brisk pace, and he's keeping watch on stuff, he tacks on: "In the air, that's about an hour if you're careful. I could carry you, for a little while, at least? If you wanted."

He is trying to be nice.

"I can walk, you don't have to go through the effort. I must be heav... uh... I don't want to trouble you."

No girl wants to call themselves heavy even in this context.

He shrugs! He doesn't think she's particularly heavy, but he did get his wings a liiiittle singed back there...

"All right, then. Here's what we're going to do: run until we find somewhere safe to stop, and then you're going to rest."

Simple enough. He trusts she can do that much. He really hopes she wore reasonable shoes.

She definitely wore reasonable shoes, or she'd probably be dead already.

Yonaka nods. Running is something she's good at. On your mark, get set...

And she's off like the hounds of hell are behind her, which, to be fair, they probably are.

... Finally, some kind of point they can stop at. It's an awful lot of running, and ducking around things, and him subverting attention, but they're getting close!! Definitely. A very small forest--the first sign of something the fighting hasn't completely obliterated, yet. Most of it's heavily scorched, though. What was once probably beautiful now fairly maimed, but easy enough to get some cover in, to make it harder to be snuck up on.

... When he's sure they can stop for a breather, he'll. Conjure her a cup of ice and melt some water in it for her. This is a little tiring to him, but it must be exhausting for a human...

"... These woods... used to be... filled with apples."

Obviously, they're not anymore. Most of the greenery is dead.

She takes several sips of water before she's able to answer. That was a long run even for her...

"How long has the fighting been going on?"

... He doesn't expect her to answer instantly, anyway. At least they can rest here. He has to think about her question to him, in turn. He's not even really sure.

"... Maybe... before I was even created? I... don't... really know. How long. I remember some of what it used to look like--I remember... when I was created, pretty clearly. And I remember... these woods, before it escalated, but..."

It's probably the most personal thing he's ever said--because he really, honestly has to think about it. Does he ever remember a world of peace...? ... No. He... doesn't... so he doesn't know. How long.

"A hundred years, maybe? ... No, it seems both longer and shorter than that..." Annnnd he's lost in thought, trying to figure out an exact. No matter how much he calculates, the only person he thinks who knows that answer...

"... The head angel would know. Maybe My Lord." He finally admits. He has... no clue.

She nods. It must be hard, not even knowing what a peaceful world was like. She doesn't pity him, he'd hate that, but she empathizes.

She reaches out with the hand not holding her cup to take his hand, lightly, not for any reason but to show her sympathy.

He waves his free hand flippantly, but doesn't remove hers or anything.

"Well, I wouldn't have a purpose if there wasn't still fighting, so my being around would be kind of pointless. Can't have someone heal people if they're not injured."

Or something like that.

"I am sorry, though. For what it's worth. You weren't supposed to get hurt, period."

He kinda failed his job. Guess that's why he's not a leader, just kind of does his own thing.

"That's okay," she answers gently. "It's a war zone. People get hurt, it happens."

She's alive, he's alive, that's the important thing.

... She's a tough one, this human. He kind of admires it.

"Right, well. Let me know when you want to go, all right? We shouldn't... have too much longer to go." In about fifteen good minutes of walking, he suspects, the castle should be looming in the distance.

It's... big. A big landmark.

Yonaka'd appreciate the compliment.

She takes another minute or so to catch her breath and finish her cup of water before letting go of him. "Let's get going."

Comments are reserved for when they are both safe, unfortunately. Then lots of those.

He'll stand, brushing off his coat. He'll melt the cup, perhaps as penance to these poor trees, and then weave his way back out of the outcropping of forest with her. It's a real shame. He remembers Ciel used to like picking apples here, at one point. They did they together on a few occasions. A shame that had to stop. He can't help glancing back at it, but otherwise continues on his way afterwards.

... He hadn't stopped to think about it for some time. Maybe they really were screwing things up, but this was their job, so what could he do about it?

Once they're over a nearby hill, the castle's impressive, towering silhouette can be seen. It's beginning to get dark, but it's all white and grey and diamonds. It's quite a sight, even from a distance.

"Home sweet home, or however that phrase goes."

"It's pretty."

As castles go, it's a lot better than Mogeko Castle's ugly dome.

"Do I get souvenirs from here?"

He considers it a moment. Souvenirs... sure, why not.

"Sure, I can probably filch a diamond or something," he says, half serious, but also half joking. "The trek in shouldn't be as bad."

... He hopes. Gate security tended to be pretty rough, but once they see it's him they'll probably let him through. He'll just beat the shit out of anyone that bothers Yonaka. Easy! It is, admittedly, nice to be back on somewhat properly-laid stone pathways and the like. He missed that.

"Well I hope not, it's your home after all."

Who would beat up people on their own side?

...Actually don't answer that question. Yonaka decides not to worry about it and keeps on walking.

Well, HE wouldn't get carted off to interrogation rooms. Yonaka might. She lacks wings, is entirely foreign, and at present smells a lot like demon blood. Which is why, a little before the gigantic, several set of gates going in, he looks at her, and sighs.

"... You're going to have to get soaked." Teehee. He needs to get her wet to clean off all that blood--OKAY STOP BEING AMUSED BY YOUR OWN JOKE, Sherbet.

"I'll, uh, get you some fresh clothes or something later."

At least he's warning her?

...Well, she does still have a bunch of blood on her. She can understand why she might need to clean up. And look semi-presentable.

Doesn't mean this will be fun though.

"Yeah, okay. You'd better."

He is sorry about the cold water. But it might be kind of nice after all the heat, at least? Gotta try and make you presentable, at least a little. He doesn't have many powers beyond that, unfortunately, so all he can really do is offer her that poor scarf of his again (RIP snowflake), for a cloth. At least he's smart enough not to soak her shoes or anything.

Squishy shoes are literally the worst. .... He can't help chuckling, though. Maybe one of the girls might have clothes in her size. Ciel, maybe, might be willing to land a hand; she was always one of the kindest.

"... You know, if I didn't know any better, I'd almost think you looked the opposite of threatening now."

This is his backwards way of paying you a compliment.

For coldestsmile.

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