( there, it isn't so bad. peter clings back on juno's hand, taking that inch and sweeping forward, catching a hand at the curve of juno's waist. supporting him, mindlessly pulling him to the wall to rest against. peter crouches down with him, forcing him into a sit, hand against his chest for a fleeting moment as if pining him there. the temple has been the safest place in the city throughout all this, but now that peter actually has something to protect, he worries about the fortress, sharing paranoid glances to all his sides as if expecting someone to come raging in. as it stands, they're entirely alone -- most people either fighting outside, or situated on the healing beds somewhat further inside. most people don't have the time for emotional breakdowns, but peter and juno are everything before they're most people.
leaning silently back, peter picks off the coat from around his own shoulders and lays it atop juno, sort of -- well, hoping it's reassuring, but also encouraging that he cleans himself off with it. a lot of the blood looks cakey and dried, but some of it is still sticky and likely uncomfortable to have on. peter can draw his own conclusions to the lights in juno's eye -- it isn't that hard to guess, provided he knows whatever struggles juno had with it before -- but he kindly keeps any questions about it to himself, for now. the question game is turn based, after all, a juno made the first move.
peter looks back at the console, considering. he has his hands on juno's thighs, briefly, before he pushes himself off and sits against the wall beside him, one knee bent. he stares at the screen. stares and stares. he can see peter nureyev even from here, only because he knows what he's looking for. )
I'm assuming this machine somehow gets cataloged with every new person brought into the city. My name's in there -- yours is too.
( he clears his throat. a small crack in his ever-perfect disguise, a nervous hand threading once through his hair. )
You can see how that is ... distressing. I was attempting to override the system.
( a pleased trill leaves junod, a somewhat shy sounding if undoubtedly happy, hopping with her scratchy bird feet on the floor, blindly following dahliad's lead. )
no subject
leaning silently back, peter picks off the coat from around his own shoulders and lays it atop juno, sort of -- well, hoping it's reassuring, but also encouraging that he cleans himself off with it. a lot of the blood looks cakey and dried, but some of it is still sticky and likely uncomfortable to have on. peter can draw his own conclusions to the lights in juno's eye -- it isn't that hard to guess, provided he knows whatever struggles juno had with it before -- but he kindly keeps any questions about it to himself, for now. the question game is turn based, after all, a juno made the first move.
peter looks back at the console, considering. he has his hands on juno's thighs, briefly, before he pushes himself off and sits against the wall beside him, one knee bent. he stares at the screen. stares and stares. he can see peter nureyev even from here, only because he knows what he's looking for. )
I'm assuming this machine somehow gets cataloged with every new person brought into the city. My name's in there -- yours is too.
( he clears his throat. a small crack in his ever-perfect disguise, a nervous hand threading once through his hair. )
You can see how that is ... distressing. I was attempting to override the system.
( a pleased trill leaves junod, a somewhat shy sounding if undoubtedly happy, hopping with her scratchy bird feet on the floor, blindly following dahliad's lead. )