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You watch behind a pillar of stone, wary of your red glow casting any attention to you—Kris would be perfectly happy to chuck another object at you and pounce, should you make yourself known.
A floating heart is a fairly unusual sight, after all.
They’re upset with you.
Upset with you for puppeting them, upset at someone else having control over their body. It comes in waves, the inherent grief of having a parasite of the heart; sometimes they’re apathetic, and sometimes they bite their nails to nubs, scratch aggravatedly at their chest.
At the core of it all, you are unwelcome, and right now, Kris minds this fact very much. They’d rather stumble along in a weakened half-gait, arms tense at their sides, than deal with one more moment of having you occupying their vessel.
You don’t want to get stuck wherever they decide to shove you next. You escaped this time—so for now, you follow, and you watch.
Susie is exploring a nearby area a few rooms away, too enthralled with uncovering more of the prophecy to yet notice the state of Kris, while the goat boy—Ralsei—trails next to them, anxious over the state of his dear friend.
Furry hands rest against one of their arms, clasping gently as he implores, “Kris, you’re sure you’re okay? I’m not saying I don’t believe you, but I, um, don’t think indigestion would have this kind of effect…”
Kris says something. You’re too far away to parse any of it.
You’d think it was purposeful, an attempt to dissuade you from overhearing, but Kris…just tends to speak that way, in a low, scratchy volume that carries much less over distance than Ralsei’s saccharine fretting is doing.
Whatever was said, it did not reassure Ralsei. He shifts from foot to foot, and you’ve spent enough time occupying Kris that you don’t need a closer look to know he’s digging sharp canines into the meat of his bottom lip, an anxious habit he doesn’t seem to notice he’s doing.
You didn’t notice it either, to be fair. Not until Kris did, only a day or so ago.
You recall the moment, the motion of your gaze flitting down—their gaze—following the motion with a spike of interest, unblinking red behind dark hair. The spike in heart rate, the way their eyes snapped to the opposite direction when Ralsei craned his head to look up at them, curious at the attention. The influx of heat in your face, the pure feeling of ?????? that overtook Kris’ mind.
You remember finding it funny, a sort of puppy love that felt so out of character for the Kris you knew.
You remember that living in someone’s body and mind and being privy to this information was a sick, gross invasion of privacy, and that Kris absolutely hated having you there.
You remember, but you proceed, regardless.
Ralsei’s voice is further away. You go faster to catch up.
“—really think we should find Susie,” he’s babbling worriedly, “this is, well, it just doesn’t feel normal, a-and…” he’s spiraling, supporting some of Kris’ weight with an arm around their middle as they stagger stubbornly along.
Kris stops. You realize you’re a bit too close when you can make out the pink of Ralsei’s irises, and quickly find cover underneath a book.
If they’d noticed you, they don’t let it show.
They take hold of the arm Ralsei has around them, trailing down, and down further, until their hand grasps his.
(Unbeknownst to you, Kris allows themself a moment of indulgence with a gentle squeeze of Ralsei’s paw pads. Cute, they think, and this thought is truly private.)
(Unbeknownst to you, Kris thinks about how much they’d like to press forward and hug Ralsei, neck canting down until their head rests against his shoulder, until they’re surrounded by comforting fluff and the smell of magic.)
Kris says something. Again, you do not hear.
(Unbeknownst to you, Kris smiles down at him, a fond thing that widens as Ralsei goes pink in the face.)
Another mumble.
Ralsei speaks in a tone higher than before, as if suddenly flustered, “I…Okay. Okay? I guess I can, um, go meet up with Susie while you…go to the bathroom?”
The confusion is evident, but less so than you would expect. He seems distracted by something.
With one last long look, they part ways. Kris turns back in your direction, face carefully blank.
They walk with clumsy purpose, making a beeline for your hiding place, and you know now that they knew of your presence.
Likely had the entire time.