It must have been instinct that had her leaning down and tilting her head so he could reach her cheek with minimal effort, because it sure as shit wasn't a conscious motion when she was only blearily aware of everything around her.
She would wake up quickly, however, at the mention of Vesper. "Oh. Yeah, of course." She stepped back to make room for him to enter. "Sorry I didn't check on you first. I've been—" anxious and terrified in the wake of her loved ones dying, being hurt, and, oh yeah, the suddenly broken soul connection between her and Lucifer that needed to be mended. No big. "—busy. Do you want a drink?"
"Yes, well...I was out of town for a short while," he says weakly. He doesn't want to make a big deal out of it, either, but it she had looked for him that would have been...awkward? Sad? Anxiety-inducing? "Just as well you didn't try."
"I'd love a drink. On that note, I made this for you." The fabric bundle gets pushed into her hands. "I've been getting better at shaping crystal. It's made of rose quartz."
It's a goblet, in fact. A small one, but heavy, due to being made of stone. It's a simple design, with a heart in the stem. "It might make white wine a little sweeter."
"Out of... town?" She asked, confused and clearly not yet connecting the dots.
She took the bundle and unwrapped it. Night Sky smiled as she held the goblet up. "Good news, then. We have plenty of white wine on hand to see how it tastes in it. Thank you, sweetness." She leaned down to kiss the top of his head, then turned to head into the kitchen and get another, less fancy glass for him, along with a bottle of wine.
He tilts his head into the kiss, eyes closed for a moment, then trails after her slowly. Feels like they've done this before, in reverse. Him coming to her kitchen after hearing she'd been killed.
It's with that thought in mind that he decides to clarify. This may be something they all have to get used to. "Well, I...ahem. I died. Briefly. I just wanted to visit some of my friends and make sure I didn't miss anything."
"Poor Bel was very upset about it. Obviously, I'm fine now."
It was a good thing she set her gift down, because the likelihood of her dropping it increased when he spoke again. Instead, the glass she had taken down for him was squeezed just a little too hard that it actually cracked in her grasp.
First Lucifer. Now Barcus. And she hadn't even been around for that one — hadn't been a good enough friend, either, to even see if he had made it home after the fight. Maybe she thought he wouldn't be involved at all. He shouldn't have been.
"Are you?" She asked, broken glass tossed into a waste basket so she could grab another. "Death isn't something you just... get over."
Makes sense, upon consideration. Tree roots can split rocks, after all. She only looks delicate and innocent. Still, he finds himself staring at her hand for a moment, reaching out as if he's afraid she might have cut herself, then just...not. He clasps his hands behind his back anxiously, clears his throat and gives a lopsided shrug, one shoulder higher than the other as he halfway ducks beneath his collar.
"Isn't it, though? It might have to be, here. It's not as if I'm the only one."
There's a pause, then: "I don't know. I think I'm okay. I feel...sad. But there's no reason I should be. I'm back now, and if there are any long-term consequences we'll just have to face them as they come."
She was fine. Luckily she didn't squeeze hard enough to fully shatter the glass, and it didn't cut through her palm or fingers. She popped the bottle of wine open and poured half a glass for them both, pausing as she set the bottle back down on the counter, eyes focused on the window in front of her that overlooked the garden.
"I know you're not the only one." She was there, when Lucifer was torn apart, singing until his final breath and dying in her arms. It was different when you didn't expect it. Not like when she died so long ago. "The people you love won't get over it easily. You need to be prepared for that." She finally said. "Not that your feelings don't matter. They matter a lot. But it's a whole different feeling from the other side."
Every seen a gnome deflate, Sky? Barcus looks at her like he's not sure how to take any of this, and the fact that she's not looking at him makes it even more confusing. He blinks at her for a moment, struggling to read her.
"Should I be apologizing to people? I don't...I didn't mean to die. I'm just trying to do what's right."
"No." She murmured, her own shoulders sagging. "Sorry. I didn't mean to make you feel bad about dying."
She wiped a tear from her eye, grabbed the glasses, and turned to hand him one. "I'm just not coping very well with everything, I guess. I'm glad you're okay. And I'm glad you came to see me."
It's astonishingly easy to make him feel bad about things, Night Sky, don't worry about it. He looks up at her worriedly as he accepts the glass from her hand, and--yeah, he looks like he's fighting back tears, himself. He sets the glass aside and takes her hand in his instead.
"Do you want to talk about it?" He doesn't have a list of everyone who died, but he knows there were a lot this time, and he worries it's not over.
She took a long swig of her own drink before she set it down so she could focus her attention on him, fingers squeezing around his.
"You don't come here for me to cry on you." She said, voice low. "It's just been a lot... and not knowing that you had died, too, until now. It's just — it sucks. I feel useless."
"Well, I...may have come here to cry on you, a little," he admits, then gives in to his initial urge and leans into her, hugging her around the waist. "I mean, we can cry on each other. It may not change anything but it won't make anything worse, either."
"You're brilliant, and sweet, and beautiful, and loving. That's not useless."
She welcomed the hug, arms looped around him in turn.
"Brilliant is a stretch, sweetness." She laughed. "But thank you. Why don't we get our drinks and go cry and cuddle on the couch. It's a lot more comfortable than the kitchen."
"Brilliant like a light. Brilliant like the sun." He chuckles softly, well aware she's not going to be winning any awards for her scientific thesis anytime soon (although if she's immortal there's always a chance, right?). "I mean it. Thank you."
He nods in response to her suggestion, letting go reluctantly to pick up his drink. "Maybe you can help me with my animal transformations if we need a distraction from crying. I make a very short, stubby cat and I'm not sure why..."
Her cheeks flushed. "As sweet as ever, my friend." She chuckled, dismissing his thanks politely with a faff of her hand. Of course.
She headed out of the kitchen and toward the conversation pit in the center of the living room — all comfy cushions and pillows and blankets — and flopped down into a corner, leaving room for him to cuddle up beside her on the wide seat. "You need to think big thoughts." That sounded fake. "Seriously."
He follows her into the pile of pillows, casting about until he can find a place to set his drink where it won't tip over. That done, he rubs the back of his head a little sheepishly. "I'm not sure how to do that. I've been approaching it the same way I approach shaping crystals. Just...focusing on the internal structure and the overall shape?"
Demonstrating is clearly the best way to go, here. She can still converse with him in an animal form anyway. He closes his eyes briefly and dwindles into a cat shape. It's a soft charcoal grey, with big blue eyes, and...yes, those are short stubby little legs, there. He looks like a stuffed animal.
"Got to imagine yourself as a big cat!" Like it was easy. "I always imagine myself bigger than I am — Halsin size, if you need a reference. You've seen him as a bear, right?"
She sipped her wine, her eyes widening when he changed shape. "Aww! Barcus! Look at how cute you are!"
"I have, though not very often. With furry animals, I often wonder how much of the bulk is hair, actually. I know deep rothe aren't half as huge as they look." Imagining himself bigger is a challenge, Night Sky. He'll try, though.
He is cute. That's the thing. He endeavors not to be too cute as a gnome. It's all too easy for bigger folk to infantilize his kind and he's painfully aware of that, but there are advantages to looking more vulnerable and innocent than you are, too. So, maybe he should just make use of the endearing roundness of this cat shape?
"Satchel seemed to think so, too. She immediately started bathing my ears." Convenient that she can understand him in this shape. You're going to get him rambling at you in all sorts of forms that way.
Hell, since they're both in a pile of pillows anyway...he stretches slowly, then clambers across the soft, unstable landscape to flop into her lap. Purr.
"You ever see a hairless bear? They look hilarious." She giggled and shifted so he could properly flop onto his lap, free hand gently scratching between his ears. "Being cute isn't a bad thing, though. You can get away with murder when you're cute. Figuratively. Maybe literally. Don't murder anyone." She joked. "It's nice to just be an animal sometimes, though. I really should go lay out in the grass as a wolf more often or something."
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She would wake up quickly, however, at the mention of Vesper. "Oh. Yeah, of course." She stepped back to make room for him to enter. "Sorry I didn't check on you first. I've been—" anxious and terrified in the wake of her loved ones dying, being hurt, and, oh yeah, the suddenly broken soul connection between her and Lucifer that needed to be mended. No big. "—busy. Do you want a drink?"
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"I'd love a drink. On that note, I made this for you." The fabric bundle gets pushed into her hands. "I've been getting better at shaping crystal. It's made of rose quartz."
It's a goblet, in fact. A small one, but heavy, due to being made of stone. It's a simple design, with a heart in the stem. "It might make white wine a little sweeter."
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She took the bundle and unwrapped it. Night Sky smiled as she held the goblet up. "Good news, then. We have plenty of white wine on hand to see how it tastes in it. Thank you, sweetness." She leaned down to kiss the top of his head, then turned to head into the kitchen and get another, less fancy glass for him, along with a bottle of wine.
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It's with that thought in mind that he decides to clarify. This may be something they all have to get used to. "Well, I...ahem. I died. Briefly. I just wanted to visit some of my friends and make sure I didn't miss anything."
"Poor Bel was very upset about it. Obviously, I'm fine now."
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First Lucifer. Now Barcus. And she hadn't even been around for that one — hadn't been a good enough friend, either, to even see if he had made it home after the fight. Maybe she thought he wouldn't be involved at all. He shouldn't have been.
"Are you?" She asked, broken glass tossed into a waste basket so she could grab another. "Death isn't something you just... get over."
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Makes sense, upon consideration. Tree roots can split rocks, after all. She only looks delicate and innocent. Still, he finds himself staring at her hand for a moment, reaching out as if he's afraid she might have cut herself, then just...not. He clasps his hands behind his back anxiously, clears his throat and gives a lopsided shrug, one shoulder higher than the other as he halfway ducks beneath his collar.
"Isn't it, though? It might have to be, here. It's not as if I'm the only one."
There's a pause, then: "I don't know. I think I'm okay. I feel...sad. But there's no reason I should be. I'm back now, and if there are any long-term consequences we'll just have to face them as they come."
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"I know you're not the only one." She was there, when Lucifer was torn apart, singing until his final breath and dying in her arms. It was different when you didn't expect it. Not like when she died so long ago. "The people you love won't get over it easily. You need to be prepared for that." She finally said. "Not that your feelings don't matter. They matter a lot. But it's a whole different feeling from the other side."
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"Should I be apologizing to people? I don't...I didn't mean to die. I'm just trying to do what's right."
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"No." She murmured, her own shoulders sagging. "Sorry. I didn't mean to make you feel bad about dying."
She wiped a tear from her eye, grabbed the glasses, and turned to hand him one. "I'm just not coping very well with everything, I guess. I'm glad you're okay. And I'm glad you came to see me."
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"Do you want to talk about it?" He doesn't have a list of everyone who died, but he knows there were a lot this time, and he worries it's not over.
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"You don't come here for me to cry on you." She said, voice low. "It's just been a lot... and not knowing that you had died, too, until now. It's just — it sucks. I feel useless."
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"You're brilliant, and sweet, and beautiful, and loving. That's not useless."
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"Brilliant is a stretch, sweetness." She laughed. "But thank you. Why don't we get our drinks and go cry and cuddle on the couch. It's a lot more comfortable than the kitchen."
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He nods in response to her suggestion, letting go reluctantly to pick up his drink. "Maybe you can help me with my animal transformations if we need a distraction from crying. I make a very short, stubby cat and I'm not sure why..."
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She headed out of the kitchen and toward the conversation pit in the center of the living room — all comfy cushions and pillows and blankets — and flopped down into a corner, leaving room for him to cuddle up beside her on the wide seat. "You need to think big thoughts." That sounded fake. "Seriously."
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Demonstrating is clearly the best way to go, here. She can still converse with him in an animal form anyway. He closes his eyes briefly and dwindles into a cat shape. It's a soft charcoal grey, with big blue eyes, and...yes, those are short stubby little legs, there. He looks like a stuffed animal.
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She sipped her wine, her eyes widening when he changed shape. "Aww! Barcus! Look at how cute you are!"
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He is cute. That's the thing. He endeavors not to be too cute as a gnome. It's all too easy for bigger folk to infantilize his kind and he's painfully aware of that, but there are advantages to looking more vulnerable and innocent than you are, too. So, maybe he should just make use of the endearing roundness of this cat shape?
"Satchel seemed to think so, too. She immediately started bathing my ears." Convenient that she can understand him in this shape. You're going to get him rambling at you in all sorts of forms that way.
Hell, since they're both in a pile of pillows anyway...he stretches slowly, then clambers across the soft, unstable landscape to flop into her lap. Purr.
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