As soon as the incantation leaves his mouth, Rune tastes the twisted magic on his tongue and through his bones like fingers digging and pulling his flesh apart from its very seams. The sensation only lasts a moment, body heavy enough that it drops him to his knees on the stone floor of the basement beneath the shop. It's been quiet for hours upstairs except the soft echo of whatever music Ciro's decided to play, and Rune breathes through the discomfort until it settles, grunting quietly as he crawls his way across the room to the steps. The weakness he expects, but that, too, doesn't last long, using the edge of the staircase as leverage to get upright and suddenly craving the tea that he hates.
The tea that Ciro makes.
Ciro —
He'd been on his mind the moment he'd cast, so of course it's all he can think about as he climbs to the main floor and pushes the door aside. It smells earthy there, as it always does, but there's also a hint of cleaning product used on the linoleum. Rune drags a somewhat shaky hand through his hair and exhales, trying to straighten his jacket and shirt before Ciro spots him and the mess he is. He'd known the potential side effects of misspeaking – they're almost always the same depending on the spell – but it's cruel irony that a separation spell is causing him to crave closeness. He squeezes is fingers into a fist so tightly that his knuckles whiten. ]
Ciro. [ Even his voice sounds strained. Perfect. ] Where are you?
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As soon as the incantation leaves his mouth, Rune tastes the twisted magic on his tongue and through his bones like fingers digging and pulling his flesh apart from its very seams. The sensation only lasts a moment, body heavy enough that it drops him to his knees on the stone floor of the basement beneath the shop. It's been quiet for hours upstairs except the soft echo of whatever music Ciro's decided to play, and Rune breathes through the discomfort until it settles, grunting quietly as he crawls his way across the room to the steps. The weakness he expects, but that, too, doesn't last long, using the edge of the staircase as leverage to get upright and suddenly craving the tea that he hates.
The tea that Ciro makes.
Ciro —
He'd been on his mind the moment he'd cast, so of course it's all he can think about as he climbs to the main floor and pushes the door aside. It smells earthy there, as it always does, but there's also a hint of cleaning product used on the linoleum. Rune drags a somewhat shaky hand through his hair and exhales, trying to straighten his jacket and shirt before Ciro spots him and the mess he is. He'd known the potential side effects of misspeaking – they're almost always the same depending on the spell – but it's cruel irony that a separation spell is causing him to crave closeness. He squeezes is fingers into a fist so tightly that his knuckles whiten. ]
Ciro. [ Even his voice sounds strained. Perfect. ] Where are you?