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[angel_of_death]

[Those who have met Walter before will recognise the face they see—a pale boy with obsidian-black hair. Said hair is drenched, weighed down and sticking to his face. He's out in the storm, tucked into a makeshift shelter that appears to be constructed with fallen branches. They shake considerably in the wind, and the wind itself is howling, significantly interfering with the quality of the sound.]

Right the-. [Right then.]

As you can see-- [And hear.] -- the wea--er's right foul --- here. If you're not already out, y-- probably shou--n't come out.

[The weather's right foul out here. If you're not already out, you probably shouldn't come out.

His frown turning into a scowl, the boy tucks back deeper into the shelter, cupping his hand near the phone's microphone. With his hand blocking the wind, there's less interruption, but the background noise of heavy pattering starts to come through as well. The branches and their leaves are visibly shivering under the assault, and seem to jerk with each gust of wind.]

There's hail ranging from mint imperial size right up to the size of golf balls in addition to the rain, so watch yourself if you do come out.

[One untimely hit with a golf ball sized bit in just the right spot is liable to knock a bloke out, he figures. He looks up, glancing off camera to his side as a few branches move on camera. There's the hint of someone moving in the periphery of the feed, apparently doing what they can to shore up their little shelter. His mouth opens as he speaks to check on them, but the words are lost to the feed as lightning flashes and thunder strikes.]

Swiving piss--!

[ That immediate answer was a response to the cracking thunder than what Walter asked, though it's clearer than the words that follow. Once again the microphone struggles to pick up the other's voice properly. ]

Aye, well--t'keep us livin' for a bit. It won't last f--under this much!

[ Even half cut by the noise, it's a voice that might be familiar to a handful of others: Cehd'ra's the one putting the shelter together. At least as best as he can with the tools he has available. Which are none. ]

--mazed that works t'all right now. Y'callin--help?

-o. I w-s warning --em about th- hail.

[The dark haired boy looks back to the screen, shielding the microphone again.]

I suppose if anyone that's completed the ritual that grants us so-called immortality wants to come out, the fellow building the shelter here might like some help.

[It's then that another strike of lightning hits. It's so close that anyone watching the feed can see the flash of it reflected in the boy's eyes. There's a horrific crack followed immediately by another crackling boom.]

—Well that tree just exploded.

[The boy is unruffled, but clearly annoyed.]

[ Whatever Cehd'ra might have to say at that subtle dig is overridden by said explosion. Quite suddenly Walter is no longer alone on the screen, Cehd'ra having decided the lean-to being 'good enough'. Or maybe he just didn't want to risk being pelted with heated splinters as well as hailstones.

His eyes are large and his ears flat, one can imagine how puffed up his tail is, but he offers the screen his best reassuring smile. ]

Wasn't ours, though! 'Picked a small one t'hide under, we'll be fine. For a bit. So...no rush!

[ Please rush. ]

[Walter, in the meantime, shoots his companion a wholly sceptical look. Even if he's confident they'll make it through, he doesn't believe that 'no rush' business, either.]

Comments

[stabbersinyerfambles]

[ The scar on Cehd'ra's arm might answer Chang Geng's wondering, if he takes notice of it. On the other hand it might not be easy to spot in the downpour.

Once Walter is able to stretch his magic far enough to protect each of their heads, Cehd'ra lowers his arms with a deep breath. Beyond that...he keeps to himself. Maybe once they get back to the city he can find some excuse to go his own way. The wiser thing would be to ask to take shelter with them, but if the dog is going to be there... ]

[kiss_it_better]

[The scar is difficult to see in the downpour so it gives him a guess but he doesn't settle on his conclusion, deciding to do that later when he could see more clearly.

Instead, he huffed a short laugh, almost a scoff but gentler.]

Where would I have the money for a house? I am merely staying in an unoccupied space that doesn't seem like I'd be thrown out of.

[Telling Walter not to use his magic to protect them seemed like it wouldn't go over well, so he kept his mouth shut about that.

He had been quiet as a child and kept to himself often. He was hardly going to be the sort to force someone to join in a conversation. But he still looks back in concern.]

Ah, I forgot to ask. Did you complete the ritual?

[Which is to say, are you find being out in this cold?

The way back to the city is pretty straightforward, at least and with this storm there probably isn't anything out and about.]

[angel_of_death]

[A snort of amusement is all Walter gives in response to the first of his statements. The sound of it is lost in the bellowing winds, a faintly mirthful expression the only testament to its existence.

As for completing the ritual... Well, the answer to that question is simple enough.]

I did.

[The whole thing. Even the running around naked part, though no way in Heaven, Hell, or anything in between is Walter going to say that out loud in front of a stranger.]

I still wish I had a decent coat for the weather.

[Or at least a change of clothes. His white shirt was practically see-through at this point. Thankfully his pants and waistcoat were dark wool.]

[kiss_it_better]

There's someone offering to make custom clothing. Perhaps when you have a little more spending money you can commission one to be made.

[He glances briefly back at their third companion but decides he didn't look like he was dying of the cold so perhaps he was all right as well.

So he returns to looking ahead in the direction they're going.]

Sadly, I don't have a coat to offer otherwise it'd be yours.

[At least the cellar had four walls and a ceiling. But he makes a note of that request, filed it away as something to consider when the chance arose.

He walked, only pausing once they've reached the edge of town to make sure he's heading in the correct direction. He tries to keep a brisk pace, not so much worried about the storm as he's worried about Walter exhausting himself. Especially once he started being able to spot familiar landmarks.

Once they arrived, he crouched down to open the cellar doors. Then he gestured at them.]

Please get inside.

[angel_of_death]

[Custom clothing is an idea that doesn't sound half-bad. Much of what Walter wears is closely-tailored, save for his shirt, where the extra length of the sleeves is held in check by sleeve garters. He could use another set or two of gloves, too. It feels strange using his battle set for common tasks, and much as with other areas of his body, Walter has reasons for not being keen to bare his hands for others to see.

It's in the middle of this precise thought that Li Min's generous words offering a non-existent coat reach his ears, taking Walter completely off-guard. His lips part without a sound, quickly shutting after. What does he even say to something like that?

It's far easier to throw his focus into using his magic.

Sure enough, by the time they get to their destination, Walter is already feeling the effects of using his magic over a prolonged period. He feels tired, his mind sluggish even as he forces his steps along at a passably adequate speed. He doesn't interfere with Li Min opening the cellar doors on his own, instead dimly marvelling at yet another benevolent gesture.]

...You're too kind.

[How did he manage to meet such a nice person?

Dropping his arm, the English youth starts the descent into the cellar, his familiar following behind him.]