Rahovart looks to him, riled up and dangerous, down to the wholly toppled man. “H-He is unfighting, yes. Come. You are also forgetting yourself. And you are very red.” He lifts a corner of his robe, and reaches to wipe the blood from his forehead. What a frightening man. Rahovart is shaking, and yet… What is this feeling? This excitement? It’s most likely the panic of it that makes his heart beat faster.

Red, huh? “I doubted it’d be my color,” Roche snappishly replies, “but I’ve yet to hear any complaints.” No, not for now, at least. Curled up on the floor, it takes all that the bastard has just to groan through the blood, mouth aching and lips split. He won’t protest.

Stephen looks to the younger magus and gulps heavily; he’s nervous and can’t quiet explain why --- okay, he could, but golly would it be embarrassing to be so vulnerable at such a time as this. 

The mistletoe is right over Raho, and if the other hadn’t walked in that smile-stealing way, Strange wouldn’t have noticed.

Not one bit.

Two blue-grey eyes stare at the other: namely, at Rahovart’s lips.

He plops himself down in a chair, and begins to think. “Hmm. O, there is so much! Tell myself about your allies, and then, about your magick. Your allies first. I would not let yourself become allies with the troublesome!”

how magical are you? give me a comparison.: “I am as a new wine that has been crafted by experienced winesmiths. The product of many years of knowledge.”

why do you wanna join magic club??: “Because you are very handsome and I stay in your abode aside. I would also wish to see the power of ‘Supreme’.”

do you mind the fact we’ll have to meet at stephen’s house for refreshments???: “I would have it no other way.”

“These are jeans. This is a tee shirt. It just says ‘Awesome’, and it’s not short for anything, nor is it a misspelling.”

Stephen hands the clothes over to the other magic user before patting his arm.

Not My Type | Alright | Cute | Adorable | Pretty | Gorgeous | LORD MERCY