sleep in my ashes — r&v / d4, day 5
Dec 26, 2023 17:55:40 GMT -5
Post by calla on Dec 26, 2023 17:55:40 GMT -5
The tribute rooms are safer, location wise. They're in the interior of the suite, further down the hall than the avox rooms. It's a tactical advantage to stay there instead.
The smell of fish isn't as strong either. That saltiness of the water still sticks to the back of the throat, but at least here, tucked away, Roe isn't choking on it.
The only minor hiccup is the single bed.
And Roe had refused to allow that to be a real, proper hiccup.
He had collapsed onto the mattress, uncaring, and not overly concerned about his stitches. Then he had pulled Vin down more gently, carefully, reasonably concerned about theirs.
They tangle themselves to fit. Roe's ankle rests on Vin's calf and his arm drapes just below their ribs, resting against the edge of the bandages. He fiddles with the edge absentmindedly, readjusting his head to not get a mouthful of hair as Vin shifts their cheek to his chest.
The sheets taste like brandy.
“There's a cult in Twelve too,” Roe says, a meagre beat before the realization- "Not that I'm saying- not that you're-
Shut up.
He holds the corner of where the gauze ends, circling the tips of his fingers against it until the fibres turn soft.
“That kid from a few years ago -" From when Roe was a tender sixteen, when the entire square had shied away at a figure who gestured to the sky, “Calamity Grace."
There had been a subtle wave of relief throughout the district when they'd died. A wariness too. Roe glances down at the top of Vin's head.
He goes for casual and misses by a mile. His fingers still.
“Apparently they were all burning people alive."