he shouldn't have come. this shouldn't have even been his first thought for comfort.
yet, he's here. taking a seat outside of @roses-thorned.bsky.social 's shrine , sitting against the beautiful wall of the entrance. knees up to chest, thorns adorn limbs. nervous... a weak voice.
ā flori. . ? ā
a flinch from touch on shoulders , head shooting towards to stare wide eyed.
chin meets fluffy shoulder, an embrace. with trembling body, a choked up breath. panicked sobs begin.
terrified for himself. terrified for the child.
vines have emerged from skin, wrapping 'round limbs and neck. thorns vacant on naturely ropes.
a startled catch of party paper. wide eyes skimming the page, knuckles fading white as snow.
ā no... no this can't be real... ā
... Wait, something's wrong..
eyes wide, silent and staring straight at nothing. a completely different reaction than the seraph's.
more of dread and despair. unapproving, terrified.
another blink. he's listening... or trying to at least... he doesn't speak angel.
but he doesn't quite understand. confused and tired, head tilting to side.
ā i ā what ? ā
the disease was simply resting in his garden. head now turned to stare at the sudden appearance. blinking. blinking.
ā hello. . ?? ā
a raised brow, utterly perplexed by what is trying to be explained.
staring, observing, thinking.... freezing in complete and utter despair from implications.
ā no... no, I can't be ā i'm not, no. i am extremely careful, i shouldn't be. ā
