Carlisle cuts himself off with an undignified grunt. He wants to argue; he wants to fume angrily at the gods for getting him so worked up over something that would be trivial to others, or gripe about how they are abominations in their own right, as beings who seek to control the very emotions their prisoners would feel. However, that's not productive in the slightest, and Carlisle knows it, especially when said venting would be at his partner, who is trying his very best to calm him down. They both know well enough that the expulsion of ink is not a good sign, nor is it conducive for his health.
Despite his frazzled nerves and building frustrations, Carlisle silently acknowledges Glacius is right with a nod. His paranoia riles his energies, which make him cough up ink, making him channel more energy through him to mend any damage done to his throat and ribs. It's a vicious cycle that drains immensely on his health, a cycle he often cannot break on his own. Exhaustion usually does it for him.
He has other options, now. "I know," he tries again, quieter. "I know, I- you are perfectly capable of protecting us from any true threats that would find us."
He brings his hand to rest atop Glacius; he needs that support. "Let's- let us go somewhere else. Somewhere without the sink and the mirror and- and anywhere else such sudden frights might appear. Just until- until my heart stops feeling as though it is trying to escape my chest."
no subject
Carlisle cuts himself off with an undignified grunt. He wants to argue; he wants to fume angrily at the gods for getting him so worked up over something that would be trivial to others, or gripe about how they are abominations in their own right, as beings who seek to control the very emotions their prisoners would feel. However, that's not productive in the slightest, and Carlisle knows it, especially when said venting would be at his partner, who is trying his very best to calm him down. They both know well enough that the expulsion of ink is not a good sign, nor is it conducive for his health.
Despite his frazzled nerves and building frustrations, Carlisle silently acknowledges Glacius is right with a nod. His paranoia riles his energies, which make him cough up ink, making him channel more energy through him to mend any damage done to his throat and ribs. It's a vicious cycle that drains immensely on his health, a cycle he often cannot break on his own. Exhaustion usually does it for him.
He has other options, now. "I know," he tries again, quieter. "I know, I- you are perfectly capable of protecting us from any true threats that would find us."
He brings his hand to rest atop Glacius; he needs that support. "Let's- let us go somewhere else. Somewhere without the sink and the mirror and- and anywhere else such sudden frights might appear. Just until- until my heart stops feeling as though it is trying to escape my chest."