[ Vanitas, for all he can feel and taste the dark feelings of the people around him, is no mind reader. The intuition he boasts comes from experience, and from learning, and maybe from the past he can't remember— when he'd been a full person, when he'd just been Ventus and not a broken piece riven from him. He casts his verbal net wide to find the weak spot and push on it. But right now, he can't parse what it is Riku is trying to articulate, with his teal eyes gone heavy with some emotion Vanitas doesn't have the vocabulary for.
But Riku lets go, it breaks the spell, whatever it had been, to keep Vanits still. Whatever passed between them, with Riku's hand on his body and the press of his Light right there, right on the other side of his shirt.
Instead, he diverts to the way Riku's mouth opens and then closes. Vanitas, months ago, would have lorded this over Riku. He already did, just seconds ago, needling him about their inequality— so he can't exactly say what it is that makes him move now. If pressed, he might just cite his own frustration. They can't have a conversation when Riku can't speak, but that too is telling. Vanitas, after all, was never all that interested in the listening part of what makes a conversation.
His weight shifts, from one foot to the other. They're already close enough to touch, so Vanitas doesn't have to reach across the space so much as reach up because of their height difference. He's since changed out of the tatters of his armor, so Vanitas' hand is bare when he wraps it around Riku's throat.
They've been here before, too. Only the last time he grabbed Riku like this, he threw him into a wall.
Now, Vanitas frowns with concentration. He's never tried to use Darkness to heal anyone but himself before. The yellow of his eyes come down from Riku's face and look at the shape of his pale fingers against the gauze, his brow furrowing, and he pushes with his magic the same way he's pushed it into himself. It's no Curaga, it's only the utter purple-black of Darkness that flows out of his body and pools into the ruptured muscle of Riku's throat. ]
no subject
But Riku lets go, it breaks the spell, whatever it had been, to keep Vanits still. Whatever passed between them, with Riku's hand on his body and the press of his Light right there, right on the other side of his shirt.
Instead, he diverts to the way Riku's mouth opens and then closes. Vanitas, months ago, would have lorded this over Riku. He already did, just seconds ago, needling him about their inequality— so he can't exactly say what it is that makes him move now. If pressed, he might just cite his own frustration. They can't have a conversation when Riku can't speak, but that too is telling. Vanitas, after all, was never all that interested in the listening part of what makes a conversation.
His weight shifts, from one foot to the other. They're already close enough to touch, so Vanitas doesn't have to reach across the space so much as reach up because of their height difference. He's since changed out of the tatters of his armor, so Vanitas' hand is bare when he wraps it around Riku's throat.
They've been here before, too. Only the last time he grabbed Riku like this, he threw him into a wall.
Now, Vanitas frowns with concentration. He's never tried to use Darkness to heal anyone but himself before. The yellow of his eyes come down from Riku's face and look at the shape of his pale fingers against the gauze, his brow furrowing, and he pushes with his magic the same way he's pushed it into himself. It's no Curaga, it's only the utter purple-black of Darkness that flows out of his body and pools into the ruptured muscle of Riku's throat. ]