[ It is just as automatic for him to try reaching, except his arm is stuck hanging in the air when Jotaro abandons the notion. Slowly, it falls back and he leads him into his room. Still mostly bare and devoid of almost anything except a giant mattress sans a bed-frame (disassembled and neatly placed against a wall) in the middle of the floor, a couple of paintings and books stacked near it and a chest of drawers for his clothes. It's a big room filled with a whole lot of nothing right now. There is a peculiar bucket of water nearest to the window that doesn't look like it should be there. Flakes of something papery and chipped away gather around its base. Add the chunk of rough rock he has there too and it's more obvious what he's been up to. ]
It's fine. [ Details, details. ] Sometimes they don't. It's easier. [ Addressing that much is meant to be comforting. Being in the dark except for the moon and the lights in his eyes makes for it to be the opposite. The atmosphere is made more sinister, foreboding, and unsavory.
Making sure they don't scream is the hardest for Rohan. Everytime, without fail, he never can seem to crush them hard enough or get a hand over their mouths in time.
Hopefully Jotaro can't tell that the water is filled with bits and pieces of Rohan himself. He is aware that he is shedding of course, yet he inwardly hopes that Jotaro doesn't take notice of the streaky, uneven black that is predominant in this month's pattern up and down his tail, his arms, and his neck. It will make it easier when he pulls the cloth that has been soaking in the water out and wrings it in his hands-- keeping it out of mind. ]
Come here. [ Successfully, he draws himself closer and reaches up with a little boost on his tail to press the cloth to the gargoyle's cheek. The water sizzles upon contact; he recoils by a fraction. A deep inhale prompts him to try again, wiping at his cheek not quite like a fussy mother would. He's gentle. ] It sucks. I know. You waited a long time and it made it suck harder.
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It's fine. [ Details, details. ] Sometimes they don't. It's easier. [ Addressing that much is meant to be comforting. Being in the dark except for the moon and the lights in his eyes makes for it to be the opposite. The atmosphere is made more sinister, foreboding, and unsavory.
Making sure they don't scream is the hardest for Rohan. Everytime, without fail, he never can seem to crush them hard enough or get a hand over their mouths in time.
Hopefully Jotaro can't tell that the water is filled with bits and pieces of Rohan himself. He is aware that he is shedding of course, yet he inwardly hopes that Jotaro doesn't take notice of the streaky, uneven black that is predominant in this month's pattern up and down his tail, his arms, and his neck. It will make it easier when he pulls the cloth that has been soaking in the water out and wrings it in his hands-- keeping it out of mind. ]
Come here. [ Successfully, he draws himself closer and reaches up with a little boost on his tail to press the cloth to the gargoyle's cheek. The water sizzles upon contact; he recoils by a fraction. A deep inhale prompts him to try again, wiping at his cheek not quite like a fussy mother would. He's gentle. ] It sucks. I know. You waited a long time and it made it suck harder.
It's over.