[ netzach settles against kaveh's back. he can feel, kaveh thinks, the beating of that gentlest organ of his, that heart that makes him so. warm and kind and sorrowful. it isn't until netzach lingers that kaveh realises it - that netzach, too, has fangs. netzach presses his face into kaveh's neck, and kaveh is reminded of it, the tunnel, the haunted house, a vampire and a man compelled to be one. how kaveh's life has become so embroiled with those who like that very specific patch of his neck is something that kaveh can't verbalise, but it has him huffing out a laugh as the claymore finally dissipates back into nothing.

midnight's hand corrals kaveh's elbow. kaveh, after a moment, goes.

against the wall, midnight settles them both as if in a cradle made from the circle of his arms. his hand carves through kaveh's hair. for a moment, kaveh thinks - the shape of him won't fit. between the three of them, of course it's kaveh who has wings the size of small parachutes. kaveh's shadow casts itself against the wall; two human-shaped creatures, and one an amorphous, nebulous blob of a thing outline in its own, sunlit light. midnight tugs him in. kaveh's wings settle awkwardly. kaveh settles awkwardly. with his wings turned to the side, tucked tight against his back, kaveh almost looks and feels as if he belongs.

he shakes his head. kaveh reaches out. he pulls netzach into his arms. the hug is a fierce one. ]

I'm sorry. [ kaveh says, to netzach, to midnight. ] I am. Though how is it that you're also a vampire, Netzach? There's an irony that I can hardly voice, that those I'm most fond of have a predilection towards blood.