hana hana no mi.

john lets out a breath through his nose, something halfway to a laugh and not making it all the way. ❝ yeah, ❞ he mutters, turning the bottle once in his hand. ❝ real flattering. ❞ the night presses close around them, all dark timber and black hillside and the restless hiss of the fire eating through kindling. crickets work the silence.

his body complains at every stage of sitting down. bruises speak up. muscles draw tight. the old aches turn sharper by fresh ones. freedom, it turns out, still hurts some. he rests with his back against nothing, elbows on his knees, the bottle hangs loose between his hands, and stares at the flames. john's jaw sets. grief has a way of making a man feel watched. makes his face feel too open, his hands too uncertain. ( hosea. lenny. ) names that ought to have still been attached to voices, to movement, to campfire talk and unwanted advice and youth and patience and all the things this life has a knack of taking first.

the whiskey burns hard, a straight line of fire from tongue to throat to gut. he coughs once through his nose, swallows again, and feels it settle somewhere low in him without helping much at all. ❝ should've been there, ❞ he said after a while. ❝ how was it? ❞ he asked, and the question comes rough, carrying more than just the burial in it. ❝ the spot, i mean. have you been there before? ❞ his fingers tighten once around the bottle's neck before easing again.

' lenny was a good kid. should have been anybody else but him. ' a cough bubbles up in his chest, causing another painful fit, hearing his chest rattle and complain with each hack. he exhales when he's finally done, leaning back against an overturned log, a makeshift place to sit. ' you might wish you stayed in that place. gang's falling apart. ' he busies his hands with cleaning his gun, pulling out each piece to inspect it and replace it. the spin of the cylinder is an old, familiar sound. he knows he's a sinner that it comforts him, some.

"Balthus, playtime is over. We need to find our friends and retreat into Abyss." Invading the monastery was one thing, Abyss was another, and that couldn't occur under any circumstances. They were more than capable of holding out there for months with the various tunnels, the hidden parts of their little underground society, though not if they were out here or dead.

he defaulted to yuri's authority when needed. he takes a look around, scanning the skies for constance and hapi. ' where's the girls ? ' he wouldn't go down before he knew all three of them were safe. if anything else, he made a good meat shield.

' are you sure ? ' he gives a final ask before giving in to finally leaving the party. it's a relief, clear on his face. he's never been good at hiding how he was really feeling. he wasn't sure he wanted to be alone right now, overthinking and worrying while claude returned to the throngs of people who wanted his attention.