[ He stumbles through the front door of the tea shop just after midnight.
It's foolish, he knows, because the front door of their legitimate business is not the kind of place to be hemorrhaging magic, but Rune is so lost in his own head that he can't even think straight. At least he doesn't break the glass, hands shaking as he catches his balance on one of the sofas and smears the top of the leather with blood. It's empty at least, unable to feel Ciro's presence, and vaguely, he wonders if he had told him he was going out. Not that it mattered since Rune had already made plans to meet with someone to see this particular venture to its natural end. And it should have been easy. It should have been an exchange of spells and money, not a fight.
His hip checks the counter, knocking over the neat stack of cups Ciro had arranged and wincing as some of them shattered when they hit the floor. Their nice mugs specifically for in-house guests... Rune doesn't know why he's thinking about that, searching for something to staunch the bleeding in his side; considering it's already bled through his shirt, a towel isn't going to do it. Yet, that's all he finds, and he nearly falls to his knees making it to the sink, heaving into it as he clutches at the edges.
Was it the ID tag? Was it a curse?
He can't seem to get a grip on his aura, and when he vomits into the sink again, there's nothing but red. He needed help. He needed — ]
Ciro! [ Rune grits his teeth, trying to remain standing. Fuck. Would he even hear him? ] Ciro!
[For once he's actually not out visiting friends, just on the roof. It's late at night, and the moon is beautiful, so he's spending time with his garden, collecting different herbs for the shop, and some for personal use when suddenly his stomach twists and he's overwhelmed with nausea. He even doubles over as he senses how much magic is being spilled nearby.
Rune.
He drops whatever he's doing, and rushes down the stairs, past their bedrooms, past the store level where he slows at the sight of shattered ceramics and the strong scent of blood and magic, trying not to look at Rune as he goes into the basement to grab some things.
Ciro is back as fast as he can be, right at Rune's side as he coaxes him to sit. There was so much blood, the smell of it alone was overwhelming and making his eyes water and heart race as he's picking up on some of Rune's emotions. He tries to calm himself, drawing up Rune's shirt to assess the damage and immediately try to stop the bleeding.
He pulls away the towel and puts his hands right over where he's bleeding from whispering words he hasn't had to say for a long time. Words so old, they'd been taught to him by his mother and passed down from her mother before her. It would be painful. Meshing torn skin back together was never comfortable for the person, but he doesn't think there's time to worry about pain management when he has to stop Rune from losing too much blood. It's not like they could just go to a hospital.]
Stay with me, alright? I've got you.
[He lifts his hands away and the wound is sealed, but there's also the issue of how much blood he's lost already, possible internal bleeding, and a physical wound not being the only of his injuries. At least the other's weren't as urgently pressing, so he could move him in a bit.]
I need you to drink this. All of it. [He's pouring a few things out into a small mug in a ratio he's mostly just eyeballing]
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It's foolish, he knows, because the front door of their legitimate business is not the kind of place to be hemorrhaging magic, but Rune is so lost in his own head that he can't even think straight. At least he doesn't break the glass, hands shaking as he catches his balance on one of the sofas and smears the top of the leather with blood. It's empty at least, unable to feel Ciro's presence, and vaguely, he wonders if he had told him he was going out. Not that it mattered since Rune had already made plans to meet with someone to see this particular venture to its natural end. And it should have been easy. It should have been an exchange of spells and money, not a fight.
His hip checks the counter, knocking over the neat stack of cups Ciro had arranged and wincing as some of them shattered when they hit the floor. Their nice mugs specifically for in-house guests... Rune doesn't know why he's thinking about that, searching for something to staunch the bleeding in his side; considering it's already bled through his shirt, a towel isn't going to do it. Yet, that's all he finds, and he nearly falls to his knees making it to the sink, heaving into it as he clutches at the edges.
Was it the ID tag? Was it a curse?
He can't seem to get a grip on his aura, and when he vomits into the sink again, there's nothing but red. He needed help. He needed — ]
Ciro! [ Rune grits his teeth, trying to remain standing. Fuck. Would he even hear him? ] Ciro!
no subject
Rune.
He drops whatever he's doing, and rushes down the stairs, past their bedrooms, past the store level where he slows at the sight of shattered ceramics and the strong scent of blood and magic, trying not to look at Rune as he goes into the basement to grab some things.
Ciro is back as fast as he can be, right at Rune's side as he coaxes him to sit. There was so much blood, the smell of it alone was overwhelming and making his eyes water and heart race as he's picking up on some of Rune's emotions. He tries to calm himself, drawing up Rune's shirt to assess the damage and immediately try to stop the bleeding.
He pulls away the towel and puts his hands right over where he's bleeding from whispering words he hasn't had to say for a long time. Words so old, they'd been taught to him by his mother and passed down from her mother before her. It would be painful. Meshing torn skin back together was never comfortable for the person, but he doesn't think there's time to worry about pain management when he has to stop Rune from losing too much blood. It's not like they could just go to a hospital.]
Stay with me, alright? I've got you.
[He lifts his hands away and the wound is sealed, but there's also the issue of how much blood he's lost already, possible internal bleeding, and a physical wound not being the only of his injuries. At least the other's weren't as urgently pressing, so he could move him in a bit.]
I need you to drink this. All of it. [He's pouring a few things out into a small mug in a ratio he's mostly just eyeballing]