#rvolving

a tremor took hold of him before they broke for coffee, starting in beverly’s tapping restless feet and rising to his hands, which are now useless at the machine. the rest of the group having nipped to the restrooms or outside to smoke, it’s just the two of them at the table, which he supposes isn’t wholly unrelated to their being the newest inductees. they must have noticed they were familiar and withdrawn their wings for shelter.

beverly doesn’t make himself the easiest person to talk to, in any case.

he pulls his lips between his teeth and stares down the white folding table, a cup in one hand and some drying blood in the other, from clenching it too tightly in the circle.

SAMIRA STARES. It briefly infuriates her that the way she treats herself can somehow become about him. But sometimes, that's what a relationship is, right? They're connected in a way they weren't before—considerate in a way they've wanted to be but could never consider so explicitly.

She wants to tell him she doesn't have any other option. She wants to tell him this place is getting to her. She wants to tell him she's scared of what she's going to do, or fail to do.

That would make what she thinks she needs to do far too real.

"what was that?" robby cups his ear and leans forward, resting one elbow on the breakfast bar that bisects the kitchen. at his side, dana tuts and chivvies him out of the way so that she can fill various bright plastic sippy cups with juice. "i can hear you just fine," he carries on, straightening so that he can, very graciously, step out of her way.

"i've heard you saying the same thing over and over and over." there's only a hint of impatience in his voice, but it's mostly good-natured. the sun's shining, there's a cold beer in his hand, and jeff's got the good burgers going on the barbeque. not much to complain about, but abbot always does his best to give him something.

in hindsight, he's not so sure why he did it. things were on the up & up, weren't they? he had been so adamant at the start of their interaction that he wouldn't do it, that the scent of her blood had the alarm bells ringingᅳ warning him for what horrors were to come.

he could still taste her foul ichors on his tongue, a disgusting aftermath he couldn't rid himself of no matter how much wine he consumed. it was only one of many strategies, but there were only so many alternatives at his disposal amidst this abhorrent darkness. the desperation to cleanse himself overrode all else.

it's also just that he's so, so incredibly tired.

astarion's glance upwards at the druid contrasts to the look of a sad, dejected mutt, abandoned on the wayside.

“ i must attract these gods-awful situations, ” his bitter laugh is accompanied by the toss of his half-empty goblet of wine. it lands in the dirt, a tinny clatter resounding as it rolls into a cluster of rocks, painting a dull mulberry trail. perhaps he was the bagman in a past life, and now his penance is due.

halsin was the only one who ever seemed to give a damn. it felt normal now to gravitate towards him when he was feeling less than his usual facade self.

“ being used again is hardly novel. somehow it feels worse this time, though, ” he had chosen to go along with it, sure. although, the pressure of appeasing the needs of the collective made it feel... otherwise.

“ that potion better be worth it. ”

" you never change on me. " chris says, groaning as the incline starts to increase on the treadmill. he used to think he was in really good shape, and then he started going to the gym with ed. they're very humbling, these little workout dates of theirs, but they're special to chris.

" but like, that's what makes you so great, you know? you're reliable. consistent. why would you wanna change? "

a rising man.

the breadth of mutt's nose wrinkles, annoyed. he tries to fathom whether or not yusuf is mocking him. from the earnestness in his face, soft and a little tired, he decides after a second or three that he isn't. not entirely, anyway. that is just how he talks. a little bit of a constant pisstake.

"fine."

the light in the fridge is going. he'll replace it before anybody notices. the door gently thumps as he finally steps away. he could eat his weight in the smoked trout dip their newest neighbor made for them. a family tradition, the wife told them.

he opens the lid with a satisfying cr-cr-crack. next tears off a chunk from that morning's baguette.