Forums » Fantasy Roleplay » [Closed Rp] Trip Around The Marigolds

The streets of Italy were dark-- what other time of day was simple enough to travel when you didn't belong to the land in which through you walked?

It was not his first choice for travel, but anywhere that was not Aridrab was better. The hurt in his heart, or whatever was in his chest, was eating him alive. Actually a sensation he had felt before, under different circumstances.

He wandered along, a stick poking through his sleeve, and he pulled it across the wall to make noise. He'd pull it across fences, gates, drag it on the floor behind himself if too far away from a structure.

He had perhaps rounded one block three or four times, doing the same for the next street, and around any non-residential buildings with no apparent direction, or purpose. Where would he go? This place was not home to him, and should he find a place to reside... It would be short-term.

Alex paused at one gate, leaning his face on the bars of an iron fence, his solemn eyes peering into a garden, at a particular, and dreary plant.

He let himself in, as the gate if it ever locked, was only tied shut. His body moved on it's own as if to comfort the dying mess of branches, his hands holding them as if holding the arms of another.

Alex closed his eyes and sighed. It would be hard for him to leave this place, and this specific plant to continue to wither. It didn't deserve such a fate.

With his hands starting to glow now, the branches of the plant were revived, leaves twirling and flowers budding, moving up to greet his face with the growth they experienced. He smiled sadly at the plant now, revealed to be that of a marigold plant, somewhat of a small bush now compared to the other plants around it.

Alex turned is expression up in shock when he heard a voice speak-- a young woman stood there concerned, until she saw tears running down his cheeks. He jumped up and moved away, pausing when she put her hands up as if to stop him. She spoke softly, but he could not understand her even a little.

She was trying to show him that she appreciated the revived plant, and the smell of the flowers. Alex could at least see that; but with a small bow, he took his tears away from the garden, and quickly down the road.

When far enough away, he pulled a marigold from his sleeve, the same like that of the plant he had revived. He stood against the wall of a building, wiping his eyes as he looked at the flower, and held it close.

Even in another world, another time or place, his thoughts would return for something so small, or like that of a memory as these marigolds, and their symbolism to him. This was going to be a lot harder to forget.

With a quick glance out the window to make sure no one was there, Rye slipped out the back door of the lavish house he had been in for the last three hours or so. Making his way down the lawn and over the fence as if he had never been there, wincing when his feet his the ground on the other side. Another look around, and he headed off back home.

This part of town was very pretty, but usually rampant with snoops and cameras. In his line of work, discretion was everything. As beautiful as the houses were, he was always too busy keeping his head down and getting out of there to truly enjoy it.

After a while, the grass became less trimmed and buildings less intricate until he was out of the rich residential altogether, back on more familiar turf. It would be a while until he was home, living in a very different part of the city in a very standard, tidy yet nondescript apartment complex.

So it was another late night walking the streets of Italy to get home, Rye’s footsteps seemingly echoing against the walls, fences, the night itself. He walked with a slight limp, his last client did a number on him.

The guy in the house was a politician going through a lot of stress, and it turned out the man’s favorite way of blowing off steam was beating the shit out of someone else. Fair enough, Rye’s done worse jobs and the guy paid well. There was something honest about it. He wasn’t pretending to be in love with a stranger, just taking the heat of someone’s primal rage. His body would recover, he’d been through worse.

The walk home, however, was awful. Sure, the aches on his body made it painful, but it was the walk itself. The echoes, the empty streets. Being invisible. He didn’t need reminding of how alone he was. He was painfully aware he was returning to an empty home.

He knew these roads well enough to walk them blindfolded, so his body needed little steering. His mind wandered while he walked, absentmindedly looking up at the sky and enjoying the dim lighting of a crescent moon. He almost missed the vague figure entirely.

It actually made him jump a bit when he noticed him. He took a few steps closer, squinting at the stranger in the darkness to see if he could recognize him. He didn't look familiar, but this was the city after all. Something drew Rye to him. And as he looked on he figured it out. He looked… hurt. Crushed. He was crying.

Rye stared for a second longer before he approached him. When he was close enough, he reached out a hand only to have it hovering there, not sure where to put it. “Hey… Are you going to be alright?” Rye tried to use a soft voice. He might have asked if he was ok, but he clearly wasn’t.

Alex turned to Rye, unsure of him, or his presence there, but it was hard to mistake the misery in Alex's expression was greater than his surprise. When he looked back down at the flower in his hands only to see it wilted now. He closed his hand around it, the flower crunching in his hold, but this was not in anger, or at least now he was not angry in any way.

"Whenever... I stop crying..." He said, bringing up his empty hand to rub his eyes, but his arm shook, and his hand shook.

All of him shook when he took a step back, making a choking noise as he struggled to calm himself down.

"Getting away was supposed to help..." He said, shaking his head.

As he did this, his hair, or what ended up actually being leaves, started to wilt and darken, becoming brittle and some pieces breaking as he continued to shake.

"I-I'm sorry..." He apologized, his grip tight on the brittle marigold in his hand. "I-I shouldn't be here... It hasn't helped."

The amount of sheer hopelessness in the other's eyes when they looked up to see Rye hit him hard. It unnerved him deeply. Wine eyes followed the stranger's to the flower in his hands, which was now being clutched. He could only assume it held significance to the male in front of him.

But then he took a turn for the worse. He was shaking, choking over his words. This stranger was falling apart right in front of him. Rye's expression softened at first, slightly raising an eyebrow at Alex's words. Getting away...? All thoughts were interrupted by the sight of the stranger's hair... wilting??

Rye's eyes widened, darting in several directions before resting on Alex again. Wait was he... not human? Demon? His hair was actually breaking off, like the petals of the marigold in his grasp. He was so... broken..

The pain, the misery, the praying for some kind of right answer to no avail. Rye took a few steps forward and placed his hands lightly on Alex's arms. Maybe he didn't know what was causing him to melt down, but maybe that didn't matter. "It doesn't make a difference how far you go, distance doesn't make the pain go away. Nowhere will feel right." Rye tilted his head, trying to meet the stranger's eyes. Maybe he was way off the mark, but all Rye had was what he knew. He did know suffering, and he did know running away from it.

A very tentative hand lifted up to wipe away a tear dangling at the end of the stranger's chin, "Just breathe." Rye's eyes searched Alex's expression, unsure of how to help, "Is... Is there anywhere I can help you get to?"

Alex did not stumble away as he might have otherwise, with the caution in the other's movement toward him, and his hands on Alex's arms. Alex made the face, and avoided looking at the other while he spoke about his mental demons being with him wherever he went-- which is what he had been trying to avoid by coming here, and he didn't want to hear it.

But he put a trembling hand over one brow, ashamed a stranger was showing him sympathy. They would probably part ways soon, and this didn't help. Alex moved his fingers over his eyes, trying to breathe in and out, a small whine into a short sob as it continued.

"You won't like my answer... If I do so honestly," He said darkly, acknowledging his running, and swallowing. "If nowhere and no distance makes a difference, there is nowhere for me to go."

Rye watched Alex with concern, slowly withdrawing his hands once he seemed to be recovering. Not that he moved an inch afterward, determined to make sure the stranger was ok. Only keeping his hands in his pockets and waiting until the man replied to him.

When he did, nodded, "Didn't expect a cheery answer. Look, 'where' is the wrong question. The biggest thing is not to be alone with your thoughts. If you've got any friends or family nearby, I'd take advantage of them. You don't want to be alone. Especially here, these streets aren't the safest at night anyway." Rye did a glance over of the stranger, squinting his eyes some. He didn't look or sound very Italian... "Do you know your way around?"

Alex's hand went over his nose and mouth, and as the other receded, he shook again. He breathed, made small whines as he struggled not to continue like he had, and in front of someone, but it was too hard, and his eyes would continue to overflow with his tears.

"Home is too far." Alex admitted, looking down at the flower in his hand, pressing a finger on it as it started to crumble and separate. "They wouldn't help..."

He closed his eyes and moved a hand over one as the flower in the fingers of his other hand fell apart and drifted towards the floor. When his mind snapped out of the moment, he went for the pieces on the floor, distraught by their fragility, and that all he could pick up in one piece was the withered and dead stem of the flower that had been left behind. Alex sat back against the wall of the building behind him, gritting his teeth.

Why was there someone bothering with him, he wondered. With all the hurt he had caused, and that he had been put through in the last few short weeks. A complete stranger taking pity on his broken mindset right now...

Alex brought a bottle of water from his bag-- it was a normal size, but and didn't have much else inside, but the bottle was important. He took a long drink from it without pause-- like he didn't need to breathe, and the water just flowed right down into his stomach without pause. When he was done, his hair was somewhat revived, except, now it still drooped and parts were still broken. It did scrunch up, as if to shield his face from the other.

"Don't worry about me, stranger." He said softly, bringing his knees up to hold them. "It's not home, but I will manage..."

If there was any discomfort Rye felt in being around a broken stranger, he didn't show it. Just a casual stance while he listened for Alex's answer. While he tried to keep his expression neutral, there was still a heavy trace of concern that remained.

Rye made to sit down on the ground, putting his back against the wall and slumping down rather ungracefully. Not a word was spoken, just reaching over to pick up what petals he could, collecting them in a small pile in the palm of his hand. He kept quiet, glancing over when Alex pulled out a bottle of water. Rye's eyebrows rose as he watched, eyeing the branches of his hair as they reanimated with new life. Did... Did demons do that? He'd never seen anything like it but it's not like he's seen them all. Still, this was something very new to him.

Like a child in awe, Rye lifted a hand to touch a strand, curious if it fell more like hair or otherwise. Only they retreated to cover the stranger's face. In fact, Alex himself was curling in on himself, holding his knees to his chest and closing himself up. Pushing Rye away.

Rye stared for a minute before cracking a dumb smirk, "No shit Sherlock, this is a street, not a home." Despite the jovial tone, there were still several layers of concern underneath it. Was he homeless? Was he kicked out of where he was staying? It might explain a few things.

"There's no way I'm leaving you behind on a cold street alone at night, I'd have to be some special kind of asshole." Rye held a hand out to offer the petals he picked off the ground, "It's not much, but you could have the couch at my house for the night. I don't.. I don't know you or what you've done, but is it so bad that you can't even allow yourself better than concrete for a place to sleep?"

His eyes searched what glimpses of the stranger's face he could get behind the curling, seemingly alive strands of hair. Rye wasn't about to leave him alone no matter his answer. Rye knew what kind of hell thoughts brought when you were alone. Like it or not, Rye was worried about this complete stranger.

Alex was looking at Rye through his hair, looking around as he started to feel the ability to stave off his tears, and just breathe. He pushed hair out of his face, and behind his ear-- which in clear view was obviously a leaf itself. But he looked down at the petals in Rye's hand and hesitated before taking them, sifting through for a few needle-like seeds that were left behind from the flower's wilting, keeping only those, and keeping them in a balled up fist that he pulled in close.

"I've slept in worse places for less..." Alex started, sighing. "But the cold will get me sick if I do stay..." He started to reason.

He pressed his face into his legs, closing his eyes. He was quiet for a few moments before he pressed his cheek against one leg and looked away.

"Is it far?" He asked, turning the other way to look at Rye, other cheek against the other leg. "If it's too far I'd start to change my mind..."

Rye looked surprised when Alex took the petals, half expecting to be ignored. He watched expert hands pick out tiny slivers that turned out to be seeds. Or that's what he guessed they were. Rye pretty much murdered every houseplant he tried to take in except for the single bamboo plant in his kitchen. Frankly, it was a miracle it was alive. But this guy clearly had a major affinity for plants. Even his ears looked like leaves. Yeah, definitely some kind of demon he'd never heard of.

At the stranger's first words, Rye let his head fall back against the wall, looking straight ahead rather than at the man beside him. Disappointed but not about to leave. Only the stranger start to reconsider, causing the demon to perk up again. His eyes glanced to the side, but only quickly, trying not to pressure the guy too much.

Rye seemed content to sit and wait for Alex's reply, closing his eyes at some point to enjoy the stillness, the ambiance of crickets and tires on a road a few streets away.

Alex's answer brought a smile to Rye's lips, looking to the side to give the strange plant demon (or so he assumed) a grin. With a bit of a huff, he was up on his feet. As if Alex had given him a 'yes'. He stretched out a bit, then offered a hand to Alex to help him up, nodding towards the end of the path they were currently on, "Another left down one of the alleys and the road should take us right to the building. Not far at all," Rye chuckled, "What, you saying my abundance of charm isn't enough to convince you?"

Even with the tease, there was still a gentleness to his tone. And while he didn't want to treat this stranger like he was a frail china doll, he didn't want to be overbearing.

Once Alex was up, Rye gave him a look over just to check he looked ready to go and headed down the street at an even, casual gait. Halfway down their current road, Rye looked over at the stranger, "So... Is this your first time in Italy or have you been here before?"

"Abundance of charm..." Alex smiled, and when he was up, he brushed his hair back, trying to frown through his smile. "You sound like me, when I'm not like this..." He paused, sighing. "No... Charm gets me into more trouble than I'm already in..."

As they walked, Alex kept his head down and his hand closed on the seeds, only watching Rye's feet so that he was going in the right direction. He smiled and turned his head a little for his quiet response.

"I've been here before... Just.. Passing through though. Everything's so different, I was hoping curiosity would be enough to keep my mind busy."

"Of course I find marigolds almost immediately..."

Rye raised his eyebrows, "Sound like you? I'm flattered~" The demon gave a small wink and a chuckle, but settled down enough to walk in silence for a bit longer for Alex to reply. Nodding thoughtfully to his words.

It didn't take a genius to figure out this stranger was suffering a great emotional toll, even his walk seemed burdened. But years of his profession taught him to pick up on all the small things, the way Alex gripped the seeds or voice seemed to drop in confidence. He studied the stranger's expression for a second before looking ahead in time to take a left down into a cold, dark alley.

"Marigolds mean a great deal to you. They remind you of something. Or probably someone, right?" He held up his hands, "Not trying to pry, I'm just wondering... What do you plan to do with those seeds? If marigolds bring back certain memories then..."

They exited the alley at this point, a new landscape of buildings now visible to the two. Rye lifted a thin finger to point at one particular building, "That's where we're headed by the way, just a few blocks down. See? Not far at all."

Before Alex knew it, he lagged somewhat behind, slowed down unintentionally. He shivered, used to a different climate and dryness than here. He turned his expression away as Rye hit the nail on the head.

"Someone," He said, his voice weak and cracking at the end of the word.

He couldn't bring himself to continue his thought out loud. And was that kind of heartbreak so obvious? He could feel tears welling in his eyes as he looked down at his fist, his mouth opening if just to tremble.

"I know I should not have them..." He admitted softly with a small shrug. "But..."

He only glanced up for a moment to see, though he would normally be extremely curious to go inside and look around someone's living space, he looked back down and away, anxious and apprehensive instead, slowing for this reason now.

Rye tried to slow his walk a bit for the stranger until he heard the crack in his voice, only then turning around. Him and his damn mouth with all his snooping. The demon stopped walking altogether, putting a light hand on Alex's shoulder, "I'm familiar with the look, sorry. I just caught you at a really vulnerable moment, but maybe that's a good thing." Rye offered a really apologetic smile.

"Everyone heals in their own way. If you decide you want to get rid of the seeds, that's fine but... If you want to grow them anyway, I'm sure I have a pot or two you could use..." He definitely had quite a few sitting around on the balcony from all his failed attempts at having a houseplant. "There's never really any right answers for these things, are there?" His smile faltered, dipping at the corners for a few seconds before pulling back up. Though it wasn't as cheery as it had been up to this point.

His mask slipped for just a second, lacking the mischievous spark in his eyes and playful tease in his voice. When it came back, it seemed a little weary, "Whatever happened, there's no need to kick yourself to the curb. I'm sorry to say, sometimes even a stranger cares."

Rye stood to Alex's left, holding a hand out as if to motion for him to move forward. His shoulder was close to Alex's, as if they'd been comrades for years.

"I-I may grow them..." Alex confirmed softly, keeping the hand with the seeds close to his chest. "I'm well versed in.. Finding every wrong answer... And though it won't fix anything, it's not the worst answer."

Alex's hair flattened out, less curled around his face than before, and his mood did not lift much, but seeing the other's expression melt even if just briefly pulled his lips into a similarly weak smile, and his face to a weariness that Rye's attempts at cheering him up before, and concern were useful, but perhaps not helping, even though Alex wanted them to.

"Thank you..." He said, his words as quiet as before, and perhaps they would remain so. He couldn't bring himself to raise his voice, because it would crack again. "If it seems I am not grateful... I am grateful. This is... To fresh..."

Alex closed his eyes, breathing. He took slow steps forward, moreso because of a stiffness in his body than an unwillingness to continue to this man's home. A couch did sound nicer than the unforgiving darkness of a place he didn't know, and the exhaustion that his crying, and fretting would cause.

"I just..." He started, his eyes watering again, when they had just calmed down. He swallowed. "I-I-'m sorry..."

"Then go ahead, I don't think it's the worst idea. I think I'd grow them too." Rye appreciated the return of a similarly weak smile, there was a kind of honest vulnerability there. Understanding. It was better than any kind word.

Rye grew concerned once again when Alex spoke next, insisting he was grateful, but the demon seemed very relieved when the stranger took steps forward. Whoever this guy was, he was carrying the weight of the world around on his shoulders wherever he went. Rye's heart broke for him. Even his steps seemed burdened.

The demon wrapped an arm around Alex, pulling him into a brief side hug, "You don't have to be grateful. I appreciate it, but you agreeing to come with me tells me that you're not ready to give up on yourself just yet. That's all I care about. You could hate everything about me, I'd be alright with that." He looked over at the stranger and furrowed his brows, "You keep that up, you're gonna make me cry." He gave a teeny, half-hearted smile. "You have nothing to apologize to me for. Way I see it, I'm the freak going up to you sticking his nose where it doesn't belong. I just.. I wouldn't want to be alone if it were me."

In just a few minutes, they were at Rye's apartment complex. The demon led the way around the side to the stairs, looking up to as if to size up a trek he took every time he came home. It wouldn't normally bother him but his bruises and aches... The stranger beside him had been distracting him from it up until this point, but stairs... and he lived on he fifth floor, the top one. This was going to suck.

With a good, long breath, Rye put a foot on the first step and began his way up, looking back to Alex, "The destination is at the top, sorry-" His breath hitched a bit, wincing at a spark of pain igniting from his side. Right, avoid stretching that spot and he should be ok... Another breath later, "Fifth floor. They have no elevator and stairs suck, but the view is worth it."

First flight was hell, but once Rye got a hand of how to move without disturbing his more sensitive spots, it was manageable. Once at the top, the demon walked down the long corridor to the end, where his apartment was. The furthest he could possibly be from ground floor.

Rye checked behind him for Alex before pulling a key out of his pocket and unlocking his door into his apartment.

It wasn't the most lavish thing in the world, but still pretty large for just one person. It was made up of four rooms: the entry room (tiny block of a room with nothing but a bookshelf), a kitchen, a bathroom, and one larger long room that made up both the bedroom and the living area. The bed was at one end of the room, a TV at the other, and a large sofa separating the two sides in the middle of the room. There was also a glass sliding door on the other side of the bed leading out onto a balcony. And judging by the full trashcan and worn beanbag, it was obvious Rye spent a good amount of time out there.

In fact, the rest of the apartment was nearly spotless except for around the bed. As if the owner spent little time in his own home. Rye led the way, gesturing to the couch, "She's yours." Rye moved to his bed, slowly sinking down on his knees with a slight grimace, looking underneath to tug out a few spare blankets and pillows. "Help yourself, whatever to make it more comfortable."

It took him a good minute before he attempted to stand back up, god he was going to be sore tomorrow... Rye headed over to his dresser, pulled out some clothes, and headed off to take a cold shower to soothe his bruises. Wrapping his torso in bandages both the help along the healing process and to help hide them from his guest.

Rye left the bathroom in some frayed jean shorts and a loose t-shirt, hair still damp and shivering from the cold shower, plopping himself down on the bed. Only to hiss and curse when he did, forgetting for a second that someone else was there. When he did, he dragged himself off the mattress to turn off the lights. Guess he couldn't get away with sleeping with the lights on if someone else was here, "If you need anything, go ahead and ask now or wake me up when you do. Night, stranger."

And with that, Rye was back on his bed. He must have been tired because he was asleep in mere seconds.

Rye's arm around him was strange for a stranger-- but comforting, and had the other asked, Alex might have rejected such a thing. Maybe this stranger and he shared a similarity in the aspect of physical touch helping prove a point, or lending true comfort, he considered.

When introduced into the apartment, Alex remained silent, looking around at the layout of the room even while Rye showered.

He only frowned and showed concern as the other continued to appear as if he were in pain-- and only took a seat on the couch when he had gathered a blanket he liked, and saw Rye lay down to rest as well.

He'd have corrected Rye and given him a name, until Alex looked over, and the man was asleep. Already? he thought. What had his day been like, he wondered.

Though Alex did close his eyes and rest for a few odd hours, he was not out like Rye, and would not be able to be in such a state now with the thoughts on his mind.

He found himself staring at the ceiling until he heard a noise from the bathroom, and in a moment of actual curiosity, got up to inspect.

It was the toilet, making noise suddenly as if it had just been flushed. He looked on at it until the sound stopped, and he sighed.

His free hand found the handle of the faucet nearby to run some water over the seeds, still in Alex's hand from before. He left the bathroom, staring at the couch.

He didn't deserve this kindness, were his thoughts. Even if it were just a couch, and just an apartment, for the disrepair he had caused back home, he didn't deserve more than cement.

With the blanket from the couch wrapped around his shoulders, Alex's curiosity drove him into the kitchen, and he looked through the drawers. He found himself turning knobs on the oven, and when on a low setting, hovering over it to enjoy the warmth.

He looked into the fridge, almost hissing at the blast of cold air that greeted his face, before he recognized what the fridge was used for-- food. Uninterested now, he returned to the oven to warm up again.

After this, Alex found the television, and tinkered with it until it turned on. He fiddled with it until the volume was quiet enough, and sat a while to listen, but because the languadge was not something he spoke, he grew bored and left the room for the balcony.

He let himself out quietly, taking a seat on his own feet, a little away from the chair, pressing his face against the bars and looking out over the other buildings, and the land that surrounded them.

He stayed on the balcony until after sunrise-- only shifting off of his feet ehen it became uncomfortable.

In the light, Alex seemed to rest again, this time seriously. His hair moved of it's own accord, swaying in the warmth of the sun, and twisting to make sure all sides of the leaves that made up his hair got light.

As he relaxed, his hand fell open gently, but no seeds dropped from it-- they had started to sprout, and attatched themselves like their roots were burrowing into green blood vessels in his arm, progressively expanding and growing like a parasite to his arm.

This went on for some hours or more, but the plants did not expand bigger than if he were holding a bouquet, with odd sets of leaves and puff-ball shaped orange blooms poking out here and there along his wrist, and up into his sleeve.

With the side/back of his head still against the bars, and his pose to keep himself upright, this is how Alex stayed for a long time, truly asleep.

Rye was normally a generally light sleeper, but his exhaustion from the day left him in a very deep slumber, absolutely deaf to the world around him. Even as Alex fiddled around with various appliances in the apartment, Rye didn't so much as stir. It was a dreamless, black sleep.

It was nearly 10am by the time he awoke, stirring a little bit before he sat up. He groaned as he did so, all the sore muscles, tender bruises, and angry aches screaming at him as he dared to move. Very slowly, he stretched out, then noticed how it seemed to be a bit... warm? He turned weary eyes towards the kitchen, waking up pretty quickly when he noticed the orange light indicating the oven was on. What the hell?

Rye jumped out of bed (internally screaming afterwards)and rushed over to the oven, turning the nob to off. Why...? Now that he was awake, he could also just barely hear the TV in the next room.

OH. Right, he had a guest. But why the hell would he leave the oven on- actually, where even was he? Rye walked back into the big room, puzzled when he saw an empty couch. Did he leave? Rye looked around, quickly catching Alex's figure on the balcony. Ah.

Rye turned off the TV before heading to the door, opening it silently and creeping out in case the stranger was asleep. Turned out he was, but it was the last thing on Rye's mind once he actually got a good look at the man.

His hair was slowly curling in the air, as if soaking up the sun with every inch, as if it had a life of its own. Rye'd noticed it before, but it was more blatant now that the stranger himself was asleep. And the seeds he had just yesterday were already in full bloom, weaving itself into the veins of its host. Green veins? Rye looked up at the stranger with newfound curiosity, silently wondering just what on Earth this guy could be. Because him being a demon was getting harder and harder to believe. Sure demons were capable of all kinds of things, but plants growing into them? Green insides? That was new.

Maybe that's why the guy left the oven on. Maybe he came straight out of the forest, Rye wouldn't be surprised. With a simple sigh, Rye went back inside and headed to the kitchen. He put a kettle on the stove, readying some green tea leaves to steep while taking the moment to apply a salve to his wounds and redress his bandages.

Within a few minutes, Rye came back out onto the balcony with two cups of tea. He didn't know if the stranger drank tea, but hell, nothing wrong with some hospitality. The demon gently place Alex's cup to his side and then took a seat on the bean bag, sipping his tea and enjoying the view.

Only his eyes kept venturing back to Alex. The marigolds growing out of his arm, the way his hair seemed alive... it was kinda freaky looking, but also beautiful in its own way.

Nothing roused Alex from his sleep for a short while until he snapped awake, his hair jumping as if it had been zapped. He looked around, at Rye, and the cup of tea, before noticing the plant parasite on his arm, gently pulling at the roots that dug into his skin with concern.

"You weren't supposed to..." He said softly, stopping. He slumped back against the bars, rubbing his eyes with his free hand. "Ughh... This is going to hurt..."

He dragged his hand down his face, staring down at the marigolds with a lower eyelid exposed at it, revealing green there too. He pinched at some of the roots, getting a few out, but the process made him shiver-- if not just for the idea of pulling something out of his skin, but it did feel strange as well.

Alex stopped, letting out a short huff in frustration, taking the cup of tea if just to hold it in his free hand, for now, his marigold-covered arm left at his side.

"Good morning..." He said, his expression, and hair transparent to his irritation, or grumpiness about the flowers. His hair swirled and swatted around his face, and he paid no mind to it. "I-I... Should have planted them before I fell asleep but... I didn't want to wake you about soil and fertilizer and all that... You looked like you needed rest too..."

Alex's sudden awakening startled Rye a bit, though luckily he didn't spill any of his tea. The demon stared on in silence, watching the very strange stranger grow concerned over the roots in his arm.

While watching someone pull roots out of their skin, finding out they were also green underneath the skin, was incredibly disturbing and intriguing on so many levels, the main thing that Rye's mind latched onto was how... nonchalant Alex was. This was normal for him. Plant roots growing into his arm? Just another day.

So Rye watched in silence, expression neutral up until Alex addressed him. And even then, he stayed silent for a minute longer, finishing up his cup of tea and placing it beside his beanbag. "Right, um..." Rye scooted back his seat, pointing toward the variously shaped and sized pots, empty of plantlife but still containing dirt. "I... don't know the first thing about fertilizer and dirt, but I assume it's all in there? Hopefully you know what you're doing, cuz..." Because he killed all his plants.

He gave Alex an apologetic smile, "Don't worry about me. You do realize though..." Rye nodded at the stranger's arm, "That that's not normal, right? I'm just sayin', I've seen some weird stuff, but pretty sure that takes the cake. Do you have any idea how you're going to fix that because..." Rye stared at the marigolds blooming out of this man's arm, tilting his head and raising an eyebrow, "It's a tad alarming to the standard person. How does that even happen..."