chokuto | nightfell: ic contact

Where are you at the moment?

（ there are any number of reasons she chooses to do this via text. mostly, though, it's because she is concerned she will absolutely blow up on him if she has to speak aloud. it's easier to curate the written word. ）

Please see Doctor McCoy about the progression of your Hanahaki disease. He works primarily in Hale.

I've told him to expect you.

was that you getting in a fight with grimmjow?

[ laurent shows up to the midwinter banquet looking decidedly less severe than normal — he's shed his dark jacket and wears only a creamy white shirt that matches his porcelain skin, a ruffle of lace at his throat and cuffs. his knee-high boots are perfectly polished, his dark trousers fitted tight over his hips, not a crease in sight. draped over his shoulders is sasuke's cloak, pinned in place with a golden clasp bearing a glittering starburst crest. if he's nervous about being in the same room as the man who very nearly took his life, he doesn't show it.

he holds a mask in his hand, dangling from the strap — the face of a golden serpent. laurent's hair is gathered into a loose braid and pulled over one shoulder, the striking yellow strands picking up the glow of candlelight as he enters the lavish room and surveys its contents. the mask bounces on a plush chaise as he discards it, walking past a table laden with drinks and ignoring his reflection in a large, silvery mirror mounted on the wall. he pulls open the balcony doors to reveal the glittering pool, the moon high in a cloudy sky — and there stands sasuke, waiting as promised.

laurent's pulse stirs uncomfortably at the sight, hesitating only a brief moment before he steps out onto the marble floors, the crystalline waters almost as blue as his own eyes. his wrist is healed thanks to sakura. his shoulder is healed thanks to time. everything else is better than before but not quite at a hundred percent just yet — he's sore still from the damage taken from sasuke's lightning strike, lingering bruises still marring parts of his skin. if he breathes too deeply or turns too sharply, he aches.

he shows none of this now, his crest glittering in the moonlight, his gaze steady. his boots click neatly against the marble as he steps to the edge of the pool. ]

Take your clothes off. [ the layout is not unlike that of the bathing pools in vere, though not as warm or sweet-smelling. ] You will bathe.

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