[Eddie’s presence always dredges up complicated feelings — a strange bitterness that encompasses the resentment of apparently conflict between them back home, twined with the unusual friendship they had cultivated during their time in Abraxas, before they really knew how they were connected in a future that didn’t take place for Henry. It leaves him… uncomfortable, in a way that even now, 800 years later, he doesn’t like to dwell too thoroughly on.
He’s simply accepted it. Accepted that Eddie will appear when he just wants to shield himself from a world that marches onwards, day by day, when he wants little to do with even the rote routine that the gods themselves can fall into. But he’s always found, one way or another — and today is one more of those days, it would seem.
The vine writhes a little under the other god’s step, burrowing into the dirt just enough to slip out and under, then rise again to curl around where Eddie stands. A quiet threat that isn't wholly seen through to its end, because it does little more than that.]
Then if you're so lost-
[For a moment, everything writhes in the copse of trees, vines lifting to create a glut of them, rising like a thing alive. But then they pull back, wet and undulating, to reveal Henry, who steps out as though pushed through a portal alive.
His form is the closest to human that Henry appears these days, the only thing differentiating himself from a mortal being eyes that seem a bit too blue, and the dark, spiderwebbing veins that seem to pulse just beneath his skin.]
no subject
He’s simply accepted it. Accepted that Eddie will appear when he just wants to shield himself from a world that marches onwards, day by day, when he wants little to do with even the rote routine that the gods themselves can fall into. But he’s always found, one way or another — and today is one more of those days, it would seem.
The vine writhes a little under the other god’s step, burrowing into the dirt just enough to slip out and under, then rise again to curl around where Eddie stands. A quiet threat that isn't wholly seen through to its end, because it does little more than that.]
Then if you're so lost-
[For a moment, everything writhes in the copse of trees, vines lifting to create a glut of them, rising like a thing alive. But then they pull back, wet and undulating, to reveal Henry, who steps out as though pushed through a portal alive.
His form is the closest to human that Henry appears these days, the only thing differentiating himself from a mortal being eyes that seem a bit too blue, and the dark, spiderwebbing veins that seem to pulse just beneath his skin.]
-then let me help you find the exit.