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Rain fell in steady sheets, pattering on the stone roof of the house with no real rhythm to it. It turned the dust covering the ground into dark-colored mud, and trickled occasionally down the window in shaky streaks.
Cloth normally did not mind bad weather. Rain was a normal occurrence back in her homeland, so she was more accustomed to it than bugs like Hornet or Tiso, who’d rarely experienced it at all. She often found it soothing, even, or nostalgic.
The massive scar on her abdomen, however, did not appreciate the storm at all. It throbbed in time with the rain hitting the house, sending small jolts of pain throughout her body. The rain had started falling at around midday, and it was now evening. The sun had started to go down already, and Cloth had been admiring the sunset for the past few moments.
She was once again distracted from the sky by yet another pulse from the scar. Her hand drifted down to hover over it, unsure of what else to do. It wasn’t like she could control the rain, so she just had to wait for it to pass. Her attention once again returned to the window, looking for a distraction. Every time the scar started to ache like this, her thoughts inevitably turned to the reason she had the scar in the first place.
“Fucking Traitor Lord,” she cursed under her breath.
Admittedly, she hadn’t expected to survive being...quite literally skewered by the rogue mantis’s massive claw. Though nowadays she was grateful to be alive, the aftermath had been painful, and often still was. The wound prevented her from lifting anything too heavy, and thus kept her from properly sparring with anyone. And now this was stopping her from enjoying one of the few things that reminded her of home.
Cloth rolled her eyes, wincing, as the uncomfortable tightness and throbbing pain spiked a little higher. At least she could take comfort in the fact that the mantis was dead, and couldn’t inflict the same fate upon anyone else.
(She hoped that the thin, symmetrical scars drawn along her back would be left alone. They were years old by now, but sometimes they were still sensitive, itching and throbbing like when they were brand new.)
Distantly, a door creaked open, and Cloth jolted a bit on instinct. She had been so caught up in her thoughts that she’d forgotten about the other presence in the house. Said presence could be seen in the reflection of the window as they made their way past, muttering something about the rain, and trudged lazily into the kitchen.
“Hi, Tiso,” she spoke up.
Tiso jumped, slamming his head into the cupboard door he had opened. He swore, whirling around to face Cloth, who was unable to completely hide her quiet laughter. He sent her a glare, rubbing his head.
"Cloth." His greeting was uncharacteristically blunt. After being essentially forced to spend time with people, he had gotten a little friendlier. At the very least, he wasn't as much of a complete dick as he used to be.
“If you’re looking for the leftovers, they’re two cabinets down.” Cloth pointed at said cupboard across the kitchen.
Tiso sighed in exasperation, slamming the door shut and walking over, practically dragging his feet as he did so. “Who the hell put them there?”
Cloth blinked. “...You did.”
“Oh.” Without a further comment, he snatched one of the meat-stuffed buns Hollow had made the night before and tore it open.
“You ought to heat those up first, just in case.” The last thing either of them needed was to get sick. Cloth’s scar protested at the mere thought.
Tiso rolled his eyes. “Alright, mother.”
Cloth grimaced at his tone. Banter was common with Tiso, but it sounded a lot harsher than usual. Maybe she’d caught him on a bad day.
A flash of lightning caused her to flinch, her scar throbbing. She blinked, trying to clear the spots from her vision, and noticed that Tiso had doubled over slightly. She heard him mutter a quiet curse, and noticed that his hand was grabbing his side, right over where-
Oh.
Cloth could've smacked herself.
Quietly she stood, and made her way over, ignoring her scars as they avidly protested. Tiso watched her with wary eyes as she approached.
“Here.” She laid a careful hand on his elbow, trying not to startle him. “Maybe you should go sit down for a minute.”
Tiso immediately tried to pull away. “I do not need to-“
He cut himself with a wince, nearly dropping his food in an instinctive attempt to reach for the crack in his shell. While that still didn’t manage to shut him up, the deadpan look Cloth gave him certainly did.
“...Fine.” He grumbled to himself as he walked stiffly towards the couch, but Cloth considered that a victory regardless. With a tiny fond smile, she returned to her previous spot, sinking into the slight relief the chair brought.
Another rumble of thunder made her cringe, and to her dismay, she felt the four faded scars on her back begin to feel itchy and irritated, the still-sensitive nerves trying to twitch wings she no longer had. Mhac na galla.
She hoped to get by without him asking about them. She knew all her friends had seen those scars at one point or another, despite her best efforts to hide them, though none of them had said anything and she was inwardly grateful for it. She...wasn’t quite ready to bring those up just yet.
Luckily, Tiso was the least likely member of their group to ask her about it. With his own history, and his aversion to talking about feelings, Cloth figured that he would be completely fine with just ignoring the whole situation.
Lightning flashed, causing both bugs to wince. Gods, Cloth wished that the storm would just end already. If anything were to happen during this, she and Tiso would both be out of commission, or at the very least slowed down by their pain.
You’d fail if you attempted to protect them, just like you failed with Nola, a cruel voice hissed in the back of her mind. Cloth i
immediately shoved the thought away. She couldn’t do this right now, not with Tiso a few feet away from her. She would think about her- about Nola later, in private.
Apparently, her brain disagreed. With old wounds already opened, it apparently decided that now was the perfect time to think about another painful memory. Nola’s grin was the first thing to come to mind, and Cloth’s heart hurt. She would give almost anything just to see that smile again.
(Her real smile. Not of that horrid thing she’d seen in Deepnest.)
Cloth barely managed to hold herself together, blinking rapidly in an attempt to hold back tears. Now that she had started, she couldn’t stop thinking about Nola. At the memory of Nola’s quiet laughter whenever Cloth would try and show off for her, Cloth’s composure broke, and a sob escaped from her mouth.
She saw Tiso’s head whip over to face her, his eyes wide, but that was all she saw before burying her face in her hands. Her shoulders shook with the force of her sobs, and Nola kept flashing across her mind, leaving her unable to calm down.
Cloth didn't hear the quiet creaking of someone standing up, nor the sound of footsteps, but she did feel the hand that landed on her shoulder. She raised her head, blinking away her blurry vision. Tiso was standing there, looking extremely uncomfortable.
Cloth let out a watery laugh at his expression, and she saw a flicker of offense in his eyes. It was quickly replaced by concern, and the ant stood there, seemingly unable to come up with something to say.
"Are you… okay?" Or not. As soon as the words left his mouth, Tiso looked like he wanted to hit himself. Cloth, however, felt a small smile bloom as she processed the question.
"I- Yeah… I'm fine,” she replied lamely, trying to lock the rest of her tears away. Tiso obviously didn't believe her, but she didn't expect him to. She just hoped he would drop it. Nola was not someone she was ready to talk about, and judging by Tiso's expression, he understood that.
He searched her face for a second, before nodding slowly and backing off. He returned to the couch, and grabbed his shield, which had been sitting on the cushions.
Tiso gave her another look, before moving to leave. He hesitated briefly in the doorway, and Cloth called out to him.
"Tiso." He turned around to face her, still half out of the room. Cloth kept her expression soft, hoping he wouldn't run. She didn't want to be alone right now, and she figured he didn't either.
"Come sit back down." She said, motioning towards the sofa in front of her. He still looked hesitant, but something must have convinced him, because he edged back into the room, sitting back down.
Cloth let the silence settle into something more comfortable, her attention turning back to the storm that had started this whole thing.
“Um…” Tiso finally spoke after some time, sounding awkward. “Was all of that about..?”
He trailed off, seemingly not knowing what to say, then gave up and pointed at his abdomen, about where the wound from the Traitor Lord was on her. “You know...where you got..?”
It...was sort of connected, she supposed? Thinking about it did send her down that familiar dark path, but that type of pain was so vastly different. As irritating as the newest scar was, it was still nothing compared to…
Nonetheless, he was trying, and that was certainly more than anyone had done in a long time, so Cloth appreciated it regardless. She slowly nodded, eager to divert the conversation to something else. “Yeah,” she lied.
Tiso processed her answer for a moment. He appeared a little less tense than before, though a troubled sigh escaped him. “I get it. It...sucks, having something like that happen." His voice was bitter, clearly thinking of the circumstances that had led to his own scar.
Admittedly Cloth did not know the morbid details of what had happened to Tiso; he had been very clear in not allowing anyone to talk about it. Just looking at it though, she could tell it had to have hurt. Having his shell just...split open across his chest like that…
Her own scar pulsed in sympathy. Being stabbed had been agonizing, she couldn't imagine how painful it must've been for him.
“Mine have been...pretty bad today, too.” Tiso leaned forward, bracing his chin on his hands. “Well, worse than usual, anyway.”
Cloth had a feeling, of course, and yet it was strange to hear him admit that. He didn’t talk about that sort of thing often...or at all. But here he was, willingly trusting her with this. The thought made her chest warm, and she silently vowed to never break that trust.
Tiso still looked profoundly uncomfortable with the conversation, and Cloth took pity on him. “Yeah, this storm has been murder on mine,” she agreed, chuckling a little to keep the spirits up.
“Maybe we should avoid getting nearly killed,” Tiso remarked dryly with a snort of a laugh. “It’s kind of painful.”
Cloth's laughter grew into something more real, and she nodded her agreement. The two of them settled into a comfortable silence, which ended up being broken by a yawn from Tiso.
“Tired?” she asked.
“No,” Tiso immediately responded defensively, then thought better of it. “...Maybe,” he amended.
“Here.” Cloth reached for one of the decorative pillows strewn on her side of the sofa and passed it over to him. He took it, then promptly lay down to plop his head on it, while his legs dangled over the arm of the couch. Within seconds he was snoring nasally, the sheer volume of it combating the sounds of rain and thunder outside.
A wave of exhaustion overtook her, and she swayed slightly. Cloth reached over to adjust the pillows near her, and she laid down. Her eyes drifted shut, and she was immediately out like a light, her dreams full of past and present family.