IC Contact

[cagedinflesh]

lockets, compasses or action! or whatever else really

fun roulette, which personality will it be, you just can't know
unless you do know who you want, then say so

Comments

making his favourite apostle proud tbh

[depicted]

[Dorian still flinches at the sight of blood. He can't help but look away at first—but that impulse to know overcomes him. And in watching, his sense of horror seems to slip away. He takes the sword wordlessly and sees the speed of it. He realizes his portrait works faster. Is the mechanism different? Or is it just a matter of the speed of prana?

He looks up at Jekyll, eyes as wide and pure and innocent as they were on the day they first met.]

May I touch it?

Thomas wouldn't ask, still got a long way to go

[cagedinflesh]

[Surprised by the question, Jekyll turns his attention from the healing process to Dorian and takes a few moments to answer even after he has.]

Well, if you'd like, why not, I suppose.

[It's a strange request, but maybe Dorian's just interested because science, too!]

[depicted]

[Sort of science. Dorian takes the arm, looking at the wound carefully. Something tightens in his chest. Dorian looks up at Jekyll and he asks,] Are you immortal?

[cagedinflesh]

Not exactly. I won't die of any natural causes, but I can be killed. Not easily, certainly it would be impossible for a regular humanbeing. But to kill me, along with the rest, is the goal of the other parties in the war I spoke of.

[depicted]

[Then it isn't like him. Dorian's eyes flicker down; his mouth makes itself into a smile. There is no mirror to reveal the truth of the contract to him.] I hope that this wound doesn't heal any more slowly than it would when you had a Master to help you.

[cagedinflesh]

It seems it does, in fact. Normally such a wound, inflicted by nothing but a regular sword would be entirely meaningless, healed in a matter of moments.

[Or is that because he isn't using his Noble Phantasm? He hasn't been injured at any other time. But it's better not to think about that. But he notices Dorian's hesitance, and so he steps closer to touch the boy's arm, offering as good a smile as ever.]

Is something the matter, Dorian?

[depicted]

Yes, of course. [The smile flutters, but it does so with all of youth's innocence, its purity. No one could believe dishonesty of a face like this.] It is only a little jarring to see you in such a state of injury. I overestimated my own tolerance for such a sight.

[cagedinflesh]

[Well, that wasn't at all the answer he'd expected. It hadn't even occured to him, somehow, that the sight might be disturbing.]

-Ah, forgive me my disregard, I paid no thought whatsoever to your feelings and comfort! Really it is nothing at all, as a doctor I have seen much worse, as a Heroic Spirit, I have experienced worse!

[He quickly rolls his sleeve down so it at least can't be seen, now full of concern.]

[depicted]

[A soft laugh, meant to reassure Jekyll that it is all right.] No, no—I merely have a little . . . reaction to blood. It's nothing to apologize for.

[NOTHING BUT A LIE, MORE LIKE]

[cagedinflesh]

[Well at least they're both liars]

Are you certain? Shall I make tea? It would calm your nerves!

[It does little to stop him from worrying. Instead, Jekyll takes Dorian's hands in his, and is determined to look him in the eye, even if Dorian insists on keeping his eyes down.]

[depicted]

[When Dorian meets Jekyll's eyes, his smile is weak, a little nervous. Deliberately so.] I think tea would be a great help, Henry. Thank you.

[cagedinflesh]

Think nothing of it. Although it is surprising how so simple a thing can seem odd to always do for oneself.

[He laughs, calming with the opportunity to help. Especially with tea, tea fixes everything, it always calms everyone! For a liar, Jekyll is a very poor judge of it in others. Or at least, people he is determined to think the best of.]

Wait just a moment, please.

[With a final squeeze of Dorian's hands, he hurries off to make it.]

[depicted]

[With one last, manufactured smile, Dorian collapses into a seat. The breath he releases, terrified and uncertain all at once, is not fake. He is just tired. So he rests with his face in his hands, and he waits.]