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[ Cinnabar was relieved when Phos came back. Or they should have been, at least.
Naturally, they would never admit they were actually concerned about them; they refuse to admit as much even to themself, despite how it shows in their expressions and the shape of their poison (which, fortunately, no one ever sees.) They're a bizarre presence in Cinnabar's life, ever-shifting, always changing both Cinnabar's life and their own in ways that Cinnabar is never sure how to feel about - good, bad, both, neither, they all end up melting together in the chaos Phos brings. For a brief moment, it had seemed like they'd brought a miracle back with them: they'd survived the moon. Cinnabar didn't approach, of course. They listened and watched from far away, as always. And the more they learned, the more that miracle seemed like an illusion, and the more they felt the ominous sensation that Phos might not have survived at all.
Cinnabar would also never admit that Phos is the current subject of most of their thoughts tonight. They climb up from their cave with the same footholds they always use and retrace the same steps they've always taken for centuries, walking along the sand while the waves quietly lap at the shore in the moonlight, but they're not wishing to be taken away; they're wishing they had even half a clue about what to do about Phosphophyllite. Maybe they should talk. Maybe...
The moment they actually see Phos approaching by the eerie light of that new eye, though-- ]
...
[ they immediately turn and start walking in the opposite direction. ]
Naturally, they would never admit they were actually concerned about them; they refuse to admit as much even to themself, despite how it shows in their expressions and the shape of their poison (which, fortunately, no one ever sees.) They're a bizarre presence in Cinnabar's life, ever-shifting, always changing both Cinnabar's life and their own in ways that Cinnabar is never sure how to feel about - good, bad, both, neither, they all end up melting together in the chaos Phos brings. For a brief moment, it had seemed like they'd brought a miracle back with them: they'd survived the moon. Cinnabar didn't approach, of course. They listened and watched from far away, as always. And the more they learned, the more that miracle seemed like an illusion, and the more they felt the ominous sensation that Phos might not have survived at all.
Cinnabar would also never admit that Phos is the current subject of most of their thoughts tonight. They climb up from their cave with the same footholds they always use and retrace the same steps they've always taken for centuries, walking along the sand while the waves quietly lap at the shore in the moonlight, but they're not wishing to be taken away; they're wishing they had even half a clue about what to do about Phosphophyllite. Maybe they should talk. Maybe...
The moment they actually see Phos approaching by the eerie light of that new eye, though-- ]
...
[ they immediately turn and start walking in the opposite direction. ]
no subject
I'm not following you!
[ They sound indignant at the accusation, but skid to a sudden halt a little ways behind Cinnabar hoping to prove their point. More importantly: ]
I won't be able to sleep unless I talk to you.
no subject
still, for some reason they either don't understand or don't want to acknowledge, they stay put, eventually turning halfway to half-face the other gem. One hand crosses at their waist to hold their arm, almost defensively. ]
What's that supposed to mean... [ they word it dismissively, but it's half an actual question, too. ] There's nothing to say.