[text] probably not even gonna receive this text bc service has been so shitty lately and nothing ever sends anyways so im just gonna say what i want [text] i fucking hate that youre gone. where the hell did you and the others go? i s2g if you guys are doing something stupid because Rubes told you to. [text] im sorry about sending you those other texts that one time. you know the ones. [text] god this sucks. [text] i miss you
in all honesty, he wasn’t the kind of person who relied on his scroll so often. he’d needed a phone since his trips around remnant started but ren was always leaving it behind, and often intentionally. call it paranoia but he hated the idea of being able to be located at any specific time, whether he answered calls or not. he knew it could act as a kind of tracking device. during his time at beacon it had been alright to simply leave it behind at the dorm, but now, travelling in grimm infested territories, regularly having to keep it on his person was so emotionally draining. he couldn’t even explain it properly, it was just so taxing feeling the weight of it against his thigh.
it was safe to say that it’s proximity was driving him to use it less, often aided by the fact that he didn’t have a signal until he reached the next spot of civilisation. he received texts, and ruminated on what to do with them for days, pondering his responses in between battles. cardin’s messages were no exception. he himself was confusing, so willing to talk but less so about things that were important, or at least, not without due prompting. cardin had no filter while ren choked, constantly and violently, on the words that needed to be said. if given the chance to reply immediately, he would end up running in circles, spouting things that weren’t important. his need to stay quiet during conversations was a slow accumulation of composure, which often led to him missing an opportunity to speak. acting impulsively, saying the thoughts that immediately came to mind would ultimately ruin his mental stratagem. thus what was said in text, as opposed to what was wrung from him in person felt . . . impersonal. like a little bit of him broke away with every hour spent pondering a response.
this was why he’d almost thrown his phone into a lake.
[ 17 : 52 ] cardin, this is not only for ruby’s sake.
[ 17 : 53 ] it’s not even entirely for pyrrha’s sake either. [ text unsent ]
[ 18 : 02 ] beacon was one of the closest things to home i’ve had in a very long time.
[ 18 : 08 ] i want to bring to justice those who destroyed it. [ text unsent ]
[ 18 : 09 ] more than anything i want to know the conspirator’s intentions.
[ 18 : 15 ] we’re going to mistral.
ren put the phone down atop crossed legs, placing a hand over his eyes and exhaling loudly. ren’s memory was quite a reliable one, he remembered the intricacies of events he’d sooner wish to forget. he remembered that night with clarity. he’d been eating nashi pears on the roof, finishing up an assignment due several weeks ahead of time. he’d been in a relatively good mood. to accompany the hand which had covered his eyes, he covered his mouth with the other, breath streaming through his fingers, a mental reminder that it was becoming harder to breathe but an instinctive need drove him to prevent any noise from coming out. he remembered the chill of the wind as he rose to his feet, hoping he’d see cardin from his vantage point, the sting of his eyes when he realised he might’ve just lost one of his friends. whether cardin’s mislead affections were reciprocated, their relationship had changed whether they acknowledged it or not. ren could have gone the coward’s way out; said that the text never sent, deleted the conversation, say it was an accident. but he’d replied, in a fit of utter stupidity, he had replied; and in the most callous way one could. it hurt him to even think of that night, made him disgusted in himself to think of how relieved he’d felt when cardin had never mentioned it again.
wound tight and emotionally unstable, when ren breathed out this time a cloud of smoke billowed through the cage of his fingers. he was so angry with himself. when he was finally calm enough that he wasn’t on the brink of hyperventilating, he got up and walked away from the scroll. it was at camp, he’d have no trouble finding it later. unintentionally, he’d forgotten to reply, to acknowledge ‵ those texts ‵. unintentionally, he’d forgotten to remind cardin that he missed him too. some memory.
it would be weeks before they reached an area with a signal again.
