"I'm leaving, Ronan," Rhy snaps when he has the audacity to continue. He simply doesn't know what else to say, as the anger grips him laced through with something too akin to grief, his shock at what's just happened compounded now by the shock of everything he apparently hadn't seen in Ronan, and he needs to step away. He needs to leave, now, before he does something he regrets even more than being here at all.

Rhy steps back, toward the door, only dimly noticing that Ronan is holding some sort of item. His vision feels narrow and too sharp, focused on the door handle over anything else, breaths coming fast and tense.

He registers the shimmering dust only barely, but instinct makes him put his hand up, covering his face with the crook of his elbow and flinching away, with a look at Ronan that is just as confused as it is alarmed.