[ DON'T TRIP WITH THE ROSE IN YOUR ARMS. Morgan hurriedly attempts a half-rescue by grabbing at the back of Tsuna's clothes, but it's very probably too little too late. ]
[The world does a big tilt and Rose's body tenses against a very likely fall.
If she were in the position to talk, or even roll her eyes and sigh with adverbs, she might narrate the inevitability of something like this for them. Whether or not Tsuna succeeds in dropping her and perhaps landing atop her in a flail, Rose's eyes are closed again...for now.]
Tsuna grabs onto that deathperate (haha... hahahaha...) thought and forces himself to enter Hyper Dying Will mode, using the flames in his arms, weak as they are without his gloves but good enough, to push him back with the help of Morgan's pull.]
RYAAAAAAAAAAAH!
[If Rose wasn't awake before now, that's probably changed. So much for not yelling. At least she's now cushioned on a pile of Tsuna and probably Morgan. Ow.]
Morgan's thrown enough large rocks at Tsuna to recognize it by now. The excitement is instant!! But there is no time to celebrate. He attempts to catch Tsuna and Rose as they come swinging back up, but even if they are smaller, their combined might topples Morgan easily and he is crushed by their plenty pounds. ]
All the jarring and shouting and fire (fire?) are more than enough to shake Rose from her not-so-complacent sleep; as she rests briefly atop the pile, neither of them will see the shadow retreat from her face, and most of it clear from suddenly-wide eyes.
She doesn't have the physical control necessary to roll from their little pile yet, but she does it, all the same, bringing to pass what Tsuna went to all that trouble to avoid: Rose Lalonde, back on the ground. This time she's holding herself half-up on one arm, the other trying to grab a wand while she glares at them.]
[He quickly sits up intent on helping her, but just as quickly falls back onto himself (and Morgan, sorry) from the aftereffects of his Hyper Dying Will mode. Ow ow ow, god, his body hurts like hell.]
[Today might be Morgan and Tsuna's lucky day, on top of Rose's usual. All the...flailing and buffoonery work together to overwrite her new and deep-rooted belief that they are apparitions sent to betray and then kill her. She feels the last of some bubbling darkness withdraw, both Tsuna and Morgan - on the ground, mind - coming into sharper focus.
Tsuna wheezes an apology to Morgan, though it's a little doubtful if the other boy hears him over the sound of his life being mercilessly snuffed out. (Really loud, that.) He lets himself have a few more seconds' rest and then slowly rolls over. Just once. It's enough to get him off Morgan and land him on his face in the dirt.
It... It's okay, I think... He sticks to the store these days... phew.
[ He rubs his midsection sorely. Thank you for rolling over, Tsuna, even if it was only once. He appreciates your sacrifice of face in dirt. He peers up at Rose, looking every inch one half of her savior team as he flops pathetically in recovery. ]
[What a sad day, when Rose who just went into the store and faced gods-know-what and made it back out with her life (perhaps not all of her sanity, though) looks more put-together and competent than her dirt-faceplant rescuers. She has a wand in one hand now, and if she could locate her druthers, its tip would be all aglow in blacklight; alas, not a druther to be found, and she can't magic over the confusion and headache.]
Are you real?
[Answer wisely, boys. Rose can't work out standing yet, but she's bluffing like hell.]
[ He sits up into a slouch and looks at Rose in confusion... but plainly, his assessment of the threat level is zero. It's Rose!! She wouldn't hurt them. ]
Um... I think so, anyway. How could we prove that to you?
[Her honest assessment of her threat level is about two, but with the potential for Morgan and Tsuna to be enemy level ten, she's trying to project about an eight. From the ground, trembling even on the arm she's using to hold herself up.
How could we prove that to you? Rose frowns, confusion and concern intruding on ferocity. Could they prove it? None of her recent hallucinations involved either of them tripping over themselves or lying there groaning.]
I don't know. [Self-aware hallucinations are a big step up on the psychoanalytical scale.]
[Self-aware hallucinations are a big step up on the Tsuna scale too. Like N*SA level, even.
He takes a deep breath, this time with less wheezing, and pushes himself up until he's seated. It's kind of hard to think when your face is in the dirt, so maybe sitting will clear his head a little.]
Oh -- I know. [He digs out a wrinkled (and slightly dirty) piece of cloth from his pocket and presents it to her.] H-here.
[ Morgan looks on curiously, having no idea what the cloth is. But he doesn't have any better proof to present, so he sits and waits for Rose's verdict. ]
I saw you die. [Hissed, through clenched teeth that only got that way because Tsuna produced a thing-passing-for-handkerchief. With neither taking advantage of her inability to rise (they're both just sitting there like it's a picnic) and both looking mildly confused, moderately breathless...she doesn't know how to process the illusion.
Later, maybe days later, she'll reach some conclusions about what they are to her, that they mattered enough to be death-illusions haunting her psyche.]
[ And may it stay that way. He frowns and thinks for a moment before unhooking his sword and letting it clatter heavily to the floor. And then he digs out a tome... and another tome... from within his robe and sets them carefully aside, pushing the whole lot away. Completely unequipped now, he scoots toward her and outstretches a hand. ]
[There's a faint ghostly "?" at the end there, one that barely breathes, and Rose's position changes so she's on both elbows, holding her head between her hands at the temples.]
I saw you die, I saw you turn on each other, turn on me, draw your sword and-
[That sword, the one right there on the ground, which does not respond to her muttering the way it did inside the store, the way it came alive and grew a faceless laugh and impaled a friend who does not live in Haven now.]
I have lost my mind.
[Pronouncements like that usually negate themselves, but Rose thinks it might be true.]
[He's still somewhat confused, but he understands this much: the conbini is evil and Rose thinks she's crazy. Which is crazy of her to think in the first place because she's simply to smart to be crazy.
He leaves the physical comforting to Morgan since he's no good at that. He's no good at words either, but Rose is good at words, so if he messes up she'll just fix his words for him.]
I still don't really get it, but... those fake versions of us sound pretty bad, don't they? 'Cause we would never hurt you, Rose. And... and it's more unforgivable if we make you cry! [He scoots closer and peers at her face closely.] ... Are you crying? Don't cry, Rose...
[She nods to Morgan, jumping at the hand on her shoulder, deciding not to shake it. Rose is not crying, although she shudders like she should be, images of Morgan's fancy swordwork and Tsuna with a shotgun, then a chainsaw, then both of them becoming different people entirely, people whose weapons those really were, play across the backs of her eyelids like torrid cave paintings.
Somewhere a fire starts; somewhere else, it rains drops of sunlight.]
Crying is not unforgivable. [God, she barely manages that, and it isn't what she meant to say and stand up, damn it, Rose and none of that, none of it, is happening. Her hands move from her temples to cover her face. Still not crying. She doesn't dare.]
It's not, but making you cry is. [He's adamant about the last one.] You can cry if you need to.
[First he says don't cry and now he says cry. He'll be the first to admit he doesn't know what he's talking about AT ALL. Morgan help him before he's the one crying.]
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If she were in the position to talk, or even roll her eyes and sigh with adverbs, she might narrate the inevitability of something like this for them. Whether or not Tsuna succeeds in dropping her and perhaps landing atop her in a flail, Rose's eyes are closed again...for now.]
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GOTTA PREVENT THIS WITH HIS DYING WILL
Tsuna grabs onto that deathperate (haha... hahahaha...) thought and forces himself to enter Hyper Dying Will mode, using the flames in his arms, weak as they are without his gloves but good enough, to push him back with the help of Morgan's pull.]
RYAAAAAAAAAAAH!
[If Rose wasn't awake before now, that's probably changed. So much for not yelling. At least she's now cushioned on a pile of Tsuna and probably Morgan. Ow.]
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Morgan's thrown enough large rocks at Tsuna to recognize it by now. The excitement is instant!! But there is no time to celebrate. He attempts to catch Tsuna and Rose as they come swinging back up, but even if they are smaller, their combined might topples Morgan easily and he is crushed by their plenty pounds. ]
Oof--!!
[ goodbye ribs ]
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All the jarring and shouting and fire (fire?) are more than enough to shake Rose from her not-so-complacent sleep; as she rests briefly atop the pile, neither of them will see the shadow retreat from her face, and most of it clear from suddenly-wide eyes.
She doesn't have the physical control necessary to roll from their little pile yet, but she does it, all the same, bringing to pass what Tsuna went to all that trouble to avoid: Rose Lalonde, back on the ground. This time she's holding herself half-up on one arm, the other trying to grab a wand while she glares at them.]
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[He quickly sits up intent on helping her, but just as quickly falls back onto himself (and Morgan, sorry) from the aftereffects of his Hyper Dying Will mode. Ow ow ow, god, his body hurts like hell.]
A-augh...
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[ The sound of a life being mercilessly snuffed out. Morgan wants to be grateful that Rose is awake, really he does. He'll even give it a try: ]
R-Ro...
[ But that was all he had, now let him remember how to breathe. ]
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What in every hell are they doing?]
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Tsuna wheezes an apology to Morgan, though it's a little doubtful if the other boy hears him over the sound of his life being mercilessly snuffed out. (Really loud, that.) He lets himself have a few more seconds' rest and then slowly rolls over. Just once. It's enough to get him off Morgan and land him on his face in the dirt.
Another wheeze and then:]
W-w-we should, ow, keep moving... Dangerous... Shirtless...
[BUT FIRST let's agree to not move at all for a bit. Break.]
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WHEEZE. ]
It... It's okay, I think... He sticks to the store these days... phew.
[ He rubs his midsection sorely. Thank you for rolling over, Tsuna, even if it was only once. He appreciates your sacrifice of face in dirt. He peers up at Rose, looking every inch one half of her savior team as he flops pathetically in recovery. ]
Rose, are you okay?
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[What a sad day, when Rose who just went into the store and faced gods-know-what and made it back out with her life (perhaps not all of her sanity, though) looks more put-together and competent than her dirt-faceplant rescuers. She has a wand in one hand now, and if she could locate her druthers, its tip would be all aglow in blacklight; alas, not a druther to be found, and she can't magic over the confusion and headache.]
Are you real?
[Answer wisely, boys. Rose can't work out standing yet, but she's bluffing like hell.]
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Tsuna mumbles his answer into the ground, sullen and sore.]
... Hurt too much to be fake...
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Um... I think so, anyway. How could we prove that to you?
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How could we prove that to you? Rose frowns, confusion and concern intruding on ferocity. Could they prove it? None of her recent hallucinations involved either of them tripping over themselves or lying there groaning.]
I don't know. [Self-aware hallucinations are a big step up on the psychoanalytical scale.]
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He takes a deep breath, this time with less wheezing, and pushes himself up until he's seated. It's kind of hard to think when your face is in the dirt, so maybe sitting will clear his head a little.]
Oh -- I know. [He digs out a wrinkled (and slightly dirty) piece of cloth from his pocket and presents it to her.] H-here.
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What's that?
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Later, maybe days later, she'll reach some conclusions about what they are to her, that they mattered enough to be death-illusions haunting her psyche.]
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[Or did she mean Morgan...]
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[ And may it stay that way. He frowns and thinks for a moment before unhooking his sword and letting it clatter heavily to the floor. And then he digs out a tome... and another tome... from within his robe and sets them carefully aside, pushing the whole lot away. Completely unequipped now, he scoots toward her and outstretches a hand. ]
I can't hurt you... see?
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[There's a faint ghostly "?" at the end there, one that barely breathes, and Rose's position changes so she's on both elbows, holding her head between her hands at the temples.]
I saw you die, I saw you turn on each other, turn on me, draw your sword and-
[That sword, the one right there on the ground, which does not respond to her muttering the way it did inside the store, the way it came alive and grew a faceless laugh and impaled a friend who does not live in Haven now.]
I have lost my mind.
[Pronouncements like that usually negate themselves, but Rose thinks it might be true.]
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[ He reaches to rest a hand on her shoulder. ]
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He leaves the physical comforting to Morgan since he's no good at that. He's no good at words either, but Rose is good at words, so if he messes up she'll just fix his words for him.]
I still don't really get it, but... those fake versions of us sound pretty bad, don't they? 'Cause we would never hurt you, Rose. And... and it's more unforgivable if we make you cry! [He scoots closer and peers at her face closely.] ... Are you crying? Don't cry, Rose...
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Somewhere a fire starts; somewhere else, it rains drops of sunlight.]
Crying is not unforgivable. [God, she barely manages that, and it isn't what she meant to say and stand up, damn it, Rose and none of that, none of it, is happening. Her hands move from her temples to cover her face. Still not crying. She doesn't dare.]
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[First he says don't cry and now he says cry. He'll be the first to admit he doesn't know what he's talking about AT ALL. Morgan help him before he's the one crying.]
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there was no non-terrible way to make this joke
mmmmhm
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