Nothing has gone wrong.

Once René more-or-less agreed to come along, Lark pulled him straight towards Devang's house. Could do the trailer, but today he wanted stability that went beyond that. "Have I shown you my room yet? It's warded now."

More importantly, it had the best couch-bed ever.

But first, they had to navigate the yard, which was covered in various toys, and lit by some string lights that Lake had put up. Duck and Goose were kicking a ball around in the early dark, while Raven was seated under a tree with a book and a clip-on booklight. Falcata was seated in a lawn chair texting away, a real classic barely-there babysitter. Falcata didn't even look up, while Duck immediately stopped chasing the ball to instead turn and wave enthusiastically at Lark and René. Goose huffed and shouted, "Duck, kick the ball!"

"There is a difference between how you are always hypervigilant of yourself and your effect on others and how I am always waiting to get fucking stabbed in the ribs the moment I don't read the room correctly for danger. Inward and outward. I am outward." She was doing her best to give him context. Hands doing a light ringing of each other. Mostly pulling and twisting fingers at the joints like she did when they weren't made of imagination and willpower.

"I have exposition. Not solutions."

His words about house and her did make her look down at the counter. She often did consider herself and object. He wasn't off the mark there. That did...ease something. To be understood was sometimes all she could hope for from others.

His foot claws flexed into the floor, and he shifted his weight a few times. "I mean, you can't always get it right either. You thought I was waitin' for you to kick me out."

He USED TO be waiting for that, for sure! But she'd told him enough times by now that he'd started to believe her. He really truly didn't fear that anymore. He had a lot of fears, and some did involve her, but it wasn't like that.

He trusted her. And a...fair portion of the time, he was even fairly certain she liked having him around. To some extent.

"...Do you still think that of me? Later, when things aren't bad? I'm jus' not tryin' hard enough?"

When all the emotional turmoil ends and you can come back up for air, do you still think lowly of him? That would hurt. It wouldn't like...ruin everything, but it would hurt.

"Cuz- cuz today, I mean- I feel like a dumbass. And I wish I hadn' bothered you so much, and I worry about you. But I figured that uh- maybe, same way I'm a fuckin' panicky mess sometimes...you're angry sometimes. And it's not...we're two differen' flavors of meltdowns. I'm not gonna keep...holdin' onto that. Like I used to."

After all, Devang said most of her hypervigilance was waiting for a knife-

"Have you tried being less annoying?" Alastor decided to probe, but he did not think he would get very far with that brand of questioning. "In any case, perhaps you might benefit from a bit of open-mindedness." A hypocritical - and ironic, given Lark's earlier thinking - recommendation, coming from him, but Alastor was certainly not the one consistently seeking approval from people around him. Lark seemed much more the type to care.

But he brushed the matter aside, not expecting the cat man to give him much of a productive answer, watching casually as the food was packed away before the other continued on with a wildly different subject matter.

"Depends on what you mean by magic. Slight of hand? Illusions? Diverting, I suppose. Husker is much more the sort to dabble in such things - the whole... card and hat thing he's got going on... He rather enjoys performing card tricks on occasion when he is drunk enough." And Alastor had been audience to them at least a dozen or more times. "But if you mean magic - the sort that sinners develop over time with the amassing of power -"

He lifted a hand, his pointer claw lifted which then sprouted a sickeningly green flame at the end of it, as though it were a lighter. Only briefly did it flicker and flare before disappearing again.

"HA! I'D benefit from open-mindedness?" Yeah, no, Lark wasn't letting that one slide. "Mate, I used t'think all art was impractical bullshit. I made art with a chainsaw cuz I thought, I'm an engineer, not an artist!"

Not something he'd fully examined until later. Silliness. He hadn't taken himself for that kind of close-minded.

But anyways.

"Nah, real magic- oh shit! Fire power!" Lark excitedly snapped his fingers, summoning up a little fire of his own, but over his thumb rather than forefinger. His was warm and red, run of the mill fire. He then bit his lip as the green flame died out, and he squinted at his own fire. Slowly, with some concentration, he was able to shift the hue. He couldn't get that vicious green out of it (nor was that particularly to his tastes), but it shifted to pale yellow, then a gentle mint. He finally let the fire die, letting out a held breath.

"I can change th'color of electric lights, too, but I feel like tha's more an illusion thing." He shrugged. Both of these were kind of parlor tricks.

"You ever tried scrying?"

"Who do we know who could just toss me into a black hole?" he managed after a few moments, shoulders still shaking as he tried to keep himself composed.

"Hey now, we don' wanna introduce other planets to yer grave wake-ups. I'm sure Dagus would be happy to pick yah up, but we'd have to track 'em down, and tha's a whole thing."

Big old kiss back, but careful to hold the painted hand out to the side, very daintily. Didn't want to mess up his nails! (Claws!)

"Oh, it would jus' be for decoration. Jus' a pop of color, yanno. Yer not th' only one who can be fabo all th' time."

He got that little innuendo at the end there though, don't you worry.

"I dunno, you might like it if I come at you with caps." He put a hand behind Worth's back, snaking up under his shirt, and ran his fingers down his spine without quite letting the claws out.

"Save th'best for last...then all I gotta do is..."

He got Worth's unpainted hand in his free hand, and brought it to his mouth, pushing one of the claws out and gently biting it and then pulling away, like if he were to bite off one of those decorative plastic caps.

Kind of him to hold back the disdain, because Raven would absolutely have taken that to heart. His half-demon lineage was half of why he was here! As it was, he was a tiny bit disappointed, but not overly upset. "Oh. That's cool."

Raven leaned back a little. "...I'd try to teach you how to smile, but I'm not very good at it either." It was true. Raven tended to express his happiness with a tail raised high rather than showing his teeth.

And Raven scoffed. "The best self-defense is not going outside," He griped, his ears going back and tail lashing. Of course, he was more complaining than anything. His dad had already taught him a little very basic self defense, couched with a lot of "just run or hide if you can".

"...I want to kill demons." His little paws were clenched into fists. He'd get in trouble for saying that, but he'd probably get just as much guilt-ridden support. There were more horrible demons than good ones.

heading out to see The Amazing Digital Circus: The Last Act pretty soon, so other replies after I get home probably? Might pick at some of them before we go, but I'm pretty hungry and we're eating when we get there lol

"I'm not mad at you. You're not doing anything wrong. I do need you to stop thinking that I am going to hang your housing and food over you and your children's head. Even subconsciously; it's what I'm sensing in the background radiation. That power dynamic is not existent to me. It will take far more than a minor, or even major, disagreement for me to even consider it. Still, I'd fucking buy you a place. Send some guys to ward the place. Whatever else. Okay?" She didn't wait for an answer to her hypothetical.

"You also have got to stop trying to hang your emotional regulation hat on me. I can't regulate my fucking self. I am sorry, I cannot help you regulate your anxiety while I'm having mental breakdowns, okay? Alright. I can listen and I can sometimes give a hug or talk, but when I'm going off the rails the last thing I am capable of is figuring you the fuck out too. That conflict was why me and Charlie broke up to start with. It's not going to happen, it's not logistically possible for me.

Lastly, I'm staying. Mostly because I need to figure out who is going with me." Much as she HATED that idea. It'd be sense-talked into her to consider it.

A few times he glanced up, but then down again, because it wasn't his turn to speak. Just had to carefully hold all the information in his head and try to figure out what to say, if anything.

When she was done, he set down the knife. Swiveled it a little on the counter, like he was going to give it a spin, but not so much as that.

"...I didn' realize you were havin' a breakdown until I started uh- y'know. Making it worse. I'm sorry." The more simple apology, then he grimaced and waved a hand, elaborating. "And then I didn' know if I was makin' it worse by being there, or if it'd be like...an asshole move to leave you alone? After I maybe made your day worse? I dunno. I jus- I wanted to do whatever made things better for you. Even if it's hard. For me to do."

He forced a laugh and grabbed a paper towel to sop up some watermelon juice from his hands. "I uh- I can't always read the room? And then I panicked. I just- wish you could tell me when I need to leave you alone." And guiltily, "...and that I'd listen when you said it, sorry."

He stopped, and looked at her. "But- I uh. I don't. I don't think you'll kick us out, Dev. I DEFINITELY don' think you'd kick the kids out. I don' think you'd starve us. I don' even think you'd passive-aggressively try to get us to move out on our own!"

Lark was getting a little too loud, so he stopped and looked down again, wiping the counter, putting watermelon away. "That- that's the problem. I just- I don' think you'd tell me if you'd be happier if we left. You act like you're the house, and th'house doesn' get to have feelings, or some shit like that. But- but I love the house."

His voice got a wobble that he swallowed back. Yeah, heap your emotions on her again, why don't you. "...I'd rather move out than tear it down."

So. You know.

"...I don' want you to manage my emotions, I want to stop kicking you with 'em."

"BUT I AM!"

Goofy. Stupid. His confidence waned, but he was able to laugh a little at himself instead of wither away about it. "I'm Lark!"

"BETTER YET! Lark Wren."