09-23-2022, 10:56 AM
Raffe blinked when the door burst open. He wasn’t sure if it was just the fever making everything garish, or if the man revealed really was that bouncy. A sandwich was thrust out like a welcome gift, and Raffe took it, confused. He was still staring at it dumbly when his other wrist was seized and he was pulled over the threshold. “A wagon?” he repeated. For some reason the image rolled over and over in his head. Fortunately his feet kept moving in the meantime. He blinked a few more times to clear his thoughts, but didn’t manage to answer any of the many questions. Also fortunately, Sage managed to answer most of them himself.
In the study he tried to pull his wits together. Sage’s whispered advice was acknowledged, but he said nothing in return, just took a small breath and offered half a smile before he turned to greet the others. The problem wasn’t Nox or his teaching methods, but scratching at the true obstacle made his stomach clench. Instead he directed his attention to Ana and Christian’s welcome, and greeted Cruz, responding to their niceties politely. Raffe was used to being the one who did the looking after, not the one being looked after. Ana’s mothering made his chest hurt. The kindness and concern was a little overwhelming.
“Looks worse than it is,” he assured finally. A little shame burned his cheeks; he felt unkempt, even more so in their sumptuous surroundings. He knew none of the people who called this place home cared, but the insecurity clawed anyhow. It sobered him. He glanced at Sage. “We should go,” he said. Worry plucked at already frayed edges. “I just want to find him.”
Or find out what had happened to him.
The possibility made him want to throw up, but he tamped it down. Meanwhile his phone gave a plaintive beep, and he dug it into his fumbling grasp with a surprised blink. The message made his legs watery before he’d even processed what it said, and he sank into a chair. Emotion spilled into his chest like a maelstrom, and his face sank into his hands, eyes burning raw. Somewhere deep down, he’d been convinced Nox was dead. The relief was so strong it was painful.
In the study he tried to pull his wits together. Sage’s whispered advice was acknowledged, but he said nothing in return, just took a small breath and offered half a smile before he turned to greet the others. The problem wasn’t Nox or his teaching methods, but scratching at the true obstacle made his stomach clench. Instead he directed his attention to Ana and Christian’s welcome, and greeted Cruz, responding to their niceties politely. Raffe was used to being the one who did the looking after, not the one being looked after. Ana’s mothering made his chest hurt. The kindness and concern was a little overwhelming.
“Looks worse than it is,” he assured finally. A little shame burned his cheeks; he felt unkempt, even more so in their sumptuous surroundings. He knew none of the people who called this place home cared, but the insecurity clawed anyhow. It sobered him. He glanced at Sage. “We should go,” he said. Worry plucked at already frayed edges. “I just want to find him.”
Or find out what had happened to him.
The possibility made him want to throw up, but he tamped it down. Meanwhile his phone gave a plaintive beep, and he dug it into his fumbling grasp with a surprised blink. The message made his legs watery before he’d even processed what it said, and he sank into a chair. Emotion spilled into his chest like a maelstrom, and his face sank into his hands, eyes burning raw. Somewhere deep down, he’d been convinced Nox was dead. The relief was so strong it was painful.
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