by Mousen » 02/18/2018 1:44 PM
As Rexus moved to stand behind him, Atlas couldn't have been more grateful. He looked behind him to Rexus, not having the energy to say much but he mouthed the words, the look on his face was enough to communicate his meaning. He picked up his accordion case by the smaller handle, keeping it a few inches off of the ground, and stepped inside. The moment he was inside the house, with its many years of occupation, with the daily rituals that had been used to make it safe, over and over again (the lock on the door was an old iron one, too), he knew nothing was going to come for him tonight.
He dropped his bags just inside the door, struggling a little with the movement to swing the backpack from his shoulders. That hurt, but it didn't matter. He was safe now, thank god, thank Rexus, he was safe. He was sure he was shaking, the transition from his dangerous situation to this one was doing its best to screw him over. He didn't really care about that, either.
He managed to scrub the worst of the mud from his boots, there was no way he was managing to take them off while standing up. He moved into the little living room he remembered, the low fire keeping the room warm.
Atlas didn't so much sit down on one of the sofas as fall slowly backwards onto it. "Sorry. Being a terrible house guest. I'll make it up to you, later." His head lolled back a little, he closed his eyes and breathed. "Fuck," he said. "Do you want my explanation now? Or? I'm all right, I should say. Sorry. I mean, if you wanna know I'm not dying or anything, just." He was aware he was babbling, and felt a bit bad for Rexus having to decipher him. He opened an eye to glance at him, looking for an expression, a bit of body language to go off.
"It was all my own fault. Again." His voice was cracking a little. He needed a tall glass of water and the strongest pain killers he could find, but for now the sofa would do. He didn't dare impinge on Rexus' hospitality more than already was.
We’re all hysterical & going nowhere together.
C’mon rapture. Let’s go bedazzling.
Nothing gets futured without its own spitshine
& I’m already not not not not not not miraculous.