[center][h3][color=cyan]『𝕊𝕒𝕟𝕕𝕖𝕣』[/color] [color=8493ca]『ℂ𝕙𝕣𝕚𝕤𝕥𝕞𝕒𝕤』[/color][/h3][/center]
[center][img]http://i65.tinypic.com/28hztyw.png[/img][img]http://i63.tinypic.com/2h84geb.jpg[/img][/center]
[center][img]http://i.imgur.com/3R5vYYi.png?2[/img][/center]
[hr][center][color=silver]ℂ𝕠𝕝𝕝𝕒𝕓𝕠𝕣𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟 ℙ𝕠𝕤𝕥   / /   [@RedDusk][@January][/color][/center][hr][hr][center][color=silver]𝕊𝕖𝕡𝕥. 𝟟, 𝟚𝟘𝟚𝟘   / /   𝕌𝕊𝔸ℝ𝕀𝕃ℕ 𝔼𝕒𝕤𝕥   / /   𝔾𝕣𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕕 ℤ𝕖𝕣𝕠   / /  𝟙𝟟𝟙𝟚
[/color][/center][hr]

Sander stood still during the entire procedure, his arms around himself and eyes downcast. The blood high had left him entirely, leaving ashes and ice in its wake. His head still hurt from where Callan’s fist made contact. His back ached from hitting Grant’s makeshift concrete wall. But compared to others who had to leave the field on stretchers, he was quite healthy. A small mercy his power granted. Not that he ever felt lucky.  
 
He shivered lightly, even with a fresh change of clothes and a dry towel around himself. Before the guard could usher them out of the field, he caught a flash of red at the edge of his vision. It was the red canister that he brought along early. The one he didn’t dare to drink. His eyes went to Christmas momentarily, something like fear crossed his mind. He didn’t want a repeat episode of that night in the arboretum. Mind made up, he half-ran, half-walked toward the canister to retrieve it. 
 
Soon enough, they were brought to a room inside the security outpost. He avoided eye contact with most people, content to just let his gaze glued to a patch of floor in front of him. It was mostly because he was far too tired to even consider social interactions right now, but it also might have something to do with [i]being a complete monster[/i] in front of them just moments before. People tended to react negatively to that, just like that white-haired boy from earlier. He didn’t want to provoke their ire, for both his and their sakes. 
 
Fredric was already there when they arrived. He glanced up at the man, his eyes narrowed, but only just for a flicker. His gaze diverted to the screens afterward, then back at his feet soon enough. They took Christmas though, but Sander didn’t just stand there and watch. Wordlessly, he picked a seat on the edge of table, placed his canister down nearby, then proceeded to lay his forehead against the wooden surface, fingers digging into the cheap material of his borrowed shirt. Something happened. He didn’t know for sure, but he could hazard a guess, just from the way Christmas’ coffee scent moved across the room and how it suddenly amplified tenfold. He held his breath then, eyes squeezed shut at the ache on his back and head eased into nonexistence. 
 
He almost dozed off by the time someone settled down on the seat next to him. He blinked awake, once again acutely aware of the frost in his veins, as he looked up to catch sight of the blond boy. He was sobbing, not surprisingly, given the fresh patch of bandage on his arm and the heavy scent of coffee in the air. Sander let out a long breath, as if expelling all air from his lungs, before clamping down on the ability again, turning it off for what must be the third time now. Slowly straightening himself up from the table, he decided to lean sideway against the wall instead. After all, he was supposed to watch the second fight and all. Glancing sideway at Christmas, he took a few seconds to look at the boy’s bandaged arm, when his gaze drifted down to the older wound in the blond boy’s hand, then hastily back up again.
 
“[color=cyan]You should do it on the outside next time.[/color]”- He began, heaving out a shaky breath –“[color=cyan]It…hurts less.[/color]”  

Christmas choked out a half-laugh, half-sob, nodding blindly to the suggestion without saying anything further. He swiped the towel across his face with his left hand, being careful not to move his right arm at all. He buried his face in the white, woven cloth for several long seconds before nodding again, slower this time to the beat of ragged breaths.

[color=8493ca]"Thank--"[/color] a sob interrupted, [color=8493ca]"Thank you."[/color]

“[color=cyan]Yeah… Don’t worry about it.[/color]”- Sander mumbled, eyes wandering to the flickering screens –“[color=cyan]Do you want something to eat?[/color]”

Christmas turned to look at his roommate then, eyes running over Sander's rigid grip stretching the t-shirt taut at the chest and deathly complexion. The white towel draped around the blood mage's neck only emphasized exactly how pale he was that he could almost blend with it.

[color=8493ca]"...Did it not heal you?"[/color] he managed the question after a bout of sniffling.

“[color=cyan]What is there to heal?[/color]”- Sander titled his head, puzzled –“[color=cyan]I’m not hurt.[/color]”

[color=8493ca]"O-oh...you, um,"[/color] a shuddering breath noted the residue of the crying jag, [color=8493ca]"you don't look fine."[/color]

“[color=cyan]It’s just the way I am.[/color]”-Sander half-smiled, his gaze slid down to the gauze again. He thought he could see the faintest shade of red against the stark white background –“[color=cyan]Each power has its own…demand, right?[/color]”

Christmas nodded, eyes flicking to his hand and upper arm.

[color=8493ca]"...What's yours?"[/color]

He knew the answer in a sense, but there seemed to be more to it than Sander was saying. An afterthought nudged at him, that maybe his roommate wasn't interested in talking about it just to satisfy his wandering curiosity.

[color=8493ca]"Uh--um...a-actually, never mind. S-sorry,"[/color] he mumbled several seconds later.

Sander blinked, once again befuddled by his roommate’s out of place apologies. –“[color=cyan]It’s okay. It’s nothing as bad as yours.[/color]”-But he did not linger on that particular topic.
 
“[color=cyan]You say sorry a lot.[/color]”- He continued, though his eyes slowly drifted shut. The exhaustion was beginning to get to him. Nothing as bad as their first battle, but it was still unpleasant. Yet, his mind remained alert, denying him the rest his body desperately needed –“[color=cyan]Why? You did nothing wrong.[/color]” [i]Unlike me.[/i]

The blond boy eyed the ribbon he had haphazardly tied to his left wrist in a clumsy knot, courtesy of his injured right hand. The familiar tug of it in his hair had been missing for a bit longer than he was used to and jarring with what measly comfort there was in the situation.

[color 8493ca]"Sor--um."[/color]

He bit his lip a moment, waiting on several quick sniffles to pass.

[color 8493ca]"It's a...habit."[/color]

“[color=cyan]A habit, huh? Alright.[/color]”-Sander accepted the vague answer easily, his mind slowly fell in that strange limbo between sleep and wakefulness. He talked more for the sake of talking now, rather than out of curiosity or concern –“[color=cyan]You seem fond of that blue ribbon.[/color]”

[color 8493ca]"Uh--yeah...are you...um...sure you're fine?"[/color] he said softly, watching Sander look like he was ready to fall asleep at any second.

“[color=cyan]I’m fine. You worry so much about other people.[/color]”- Sander tried a reassuring smile, but he wasn’t quite sure how it turned out –“[color=cyan]So was it a gift?[/color]”- He spoke again, eager to shift the topic away from himself. 

Christmas returned the lopsided smile with a blank one of his own, though the expression dropped when he shifted in his chair without thinking and a dull throb of pain reminded him why he was sitting so stiffly in the first place. He winced soundlessly this time, holding his breath until the twinge subsided.

[color 8493ca]"...Not really,"[/color] he finally answered, wracking his mind for something more interesting to talk about. He was glad to be talking to someone, even if that someone looked ready to pass out at any second. Mental fumbling yielded nothing but inane questions about straws in neat bundles and hair care products, so Christmas let that answer hang instead.

“[color=cyan]Memento?[/color]”

A few emotions flitted through his mind as the word and all its implications came up, but he refused to entertain any of them. He didn't want to. And of all the things that he "didn't want to," his own thoughts were one of the few things he could do something about. Christmas shifted his right arm instead, just enough for a new reminder of the injury to push those thoughts aside. After several seconds of silence and grimacing, he had an answer composed.

[color 8493ca]"Something like that."[/color]

“[color=cyan]That’s nice.[/color]”- Sander shifted slightly, getting the numbness out of his shoulder where he leaned into the cold wall –“[color=cyan]Always good to have something nice to remember.[/color]”
 
[i]Not really,[/i] but he didn’t need that line of thoughts right now. There was no changing the past. He pushed the regrets to the back of his mind.   

[color 8493ca]"R-right,"[/color] Christmas automatically agreed with the statement, relieved Sander hadn't asked further. He looked to the bundle of extra towels and spare clothes nearby that the guard had collected for him when they had first separated him from the group. [color 8493ca]"Uh, you can use my extra towels if--if you need a cushion or...something..."[/color] he trailed off, looking down at Sander's shoes instead.

 “[color=cyan]Oh, I’m good. I’m not sleeping.[/color]”- Sander responded with a shook of his head, though it was hard to convince people that with both his eyes closed.           
 
“[color=cyan]You are always so nice.[/color]”- Sander suddenly said, after a short pause, the warm smile still lingered on his face. However, there was a serious undertone –“[color=cyan]Would you still help them, if it were your choice?[/color]”-He asked the familiar question, though he doubted the answer had changed. 

Christmas sighed, the exhale slow and quiet. Disappointed--in himself. In a whisper he directed so only Sander could really hear, [color 8493ca]"No. ...It hurts."[/color] He frowned, though the expression was mostly at himself. [color 8493ca]"So I...I'm not...nice."[/color]

“[color=cyan]Are hurting people to help others…nice?[/color]” 

[color 8493ca]"...Yes, for them."[/color]

“[color=cyan]Then it’s the same for you. You are [i]people[/i], aren’t you?[/color]”-Sander shrugged, a light jerk of his shoulders –“[color=cyan]But yeah, let’s not talk philosophy with me. I don’t know much.[/color]”

Christmas laughed under his breath, though he coughed the sound away quickly.

[color 8493ca]"I don't know much either. I'd like to be nice. But I don't think I am. ...Sorry."[/color]

“[color=cyan]I think you are, if that means anything.[/color]”- Sander said, his voice light, but not without effort.  

The healer froze. Just a second. But when he relaxed, a faint smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. He willed it away with some effort, because it was just one person thinking well of him when he knew better, but...the smile came back tentatively anyway.

[color 8493ca]"...More than you think,"[/color] he replied after the long pause, tucking the grateful expression behind his bandaged hand and gasping from the jolt of pain in that careless movement. It took some time, but a weak [color 8493ca]"Thank you"[/color] finished his thoughts as the sharp pangs brought tears to his eyes.

“[color=cyan] ‘s okay.[/color]”- His words began to slur as Sander’s posture relaxed further –“[color=cyan]I will just…rest. A bit. Okay?[/color]” 
 
He was silent afterward, his breathing steadied as he fell deeper into unconsciousness. 

Carefully, painstakingly (in more ways than one), Christmas pushed his chair back, shuffling over to the pile of towels and clothes. It took several trips and a few pointed stares from the guards in the room, but he managed to prop a messy mound of towels on the desk in front of Sander, just in case his roommate tipped forward. He still wasn't sure what he was going to do if Sander teetered to the side. Still worried, he settled slowly back into his chair, watching the replaying battle on the screens with a mixture of awe and terror.