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Mapicc and Ro fighting side by side is not an uncommon sight to see. Wielding axes and swords and bows in a flurry of practiced movements and coordinated teamwork. They're usually in power, they usually win.
Not this time.
Mapicc doesn't remember many times where he's felt this small, this powerless. At least they got away with their hearts still intact! His physical state? Not as good.
Mapicc stumbles out of the boat, away from Ro, sitting on a fallen log, head spinning and eyes unfocused. The ride across rocky waves wasn't helping his stomach. They both drank too many potions, and now he's suffering from overdose. There's bile in the back of his throat. Mapicc swallows intently, he won't throw up like some kid, he can't.
Ro sits down beside him, and with some clinking of glass, offers Mapicc one of their unbroken regeneration potions. It's impolite to refuse a gift... especially when it's from Ro, his ally, his friend. He takes it, and with minimal gagging, manages to drink (read: choke down) half of it.
...
Aren't potions supposed to make you feel better? So why does Mapicc feel worse? Maybe he's finally had his limit of one too many potions.
Nearly immediately, his vision swims and his throat closes up. Maybe he shouldn't have forced himself to drink the potion. Mapicc's breathing is heavy, is little bit too hard. The acid in his throat is rising, he's screwed, oh void he is screwed. He's dimly aware of Ro watching him curiously, "Mapicc?" Ro's voice barely reaches him through the ringing in his ears. He stands up and sprints as far as he can, which is genuinely a pathetic amount of steps before throwing up all the artificial substances he's ingested.
Multicolor pools of what he knows is an assortment of potions puddle on the grass underneath him as vomit clings to his mouth and his throat burns and he can feel hot, salty tears running down his cheeks. His eyes blur and his steps are unstable, his heartbeat is going a hundred miles an hour, but that doesn’t stop him from noticing the presence at his side.
Ro's next to him, again, but this time with a soft gaze and a gentle touch. He easily spins Mapicc around and presses him into the shoulder of his worn-down, purple cloak of sorts. And Mapicc- his tears soak into the cloth as he shakes and sobs in Ro's hold. He's practically immobile and the warmth of another sends him spiraling, leaning his full body weight against Ro. Who stumbles but regains his posture quickly, quietly whispering sweet nothings to him. Ro's hand rubs circles into his back and there is another carding through his hair. ("It's alright," He tells him, "I've got you.")
"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."
"What for?"
"Losing the fight, being emotional, everything."
"..."
"It's not your fault."
Mapicc presses his head deeper into the folds of Ro's clothes, small whimpers and noises sounding out as he fully breaks into useless shards of glass. Delicate, like the rest of him. Mapicc will be strong later, it's all too much right now.
He's tired, so very tired, and as Ro continues to run his hand through Mapicc's hair, he can't help but let his eyes close. Just for a bit, he tells himself.
-
Mapicc is cold, is sharp like the bloody swords he wields, but for this moment, Ro is warm, a steady presence in his hazy state of mind, something he can always rely on. (That's a lie, he knows, nothing lasts forever.)
Warm rays of sunshine pulling him out of his mind, freeing him, keeping him from spiraling again. Mapicc's heavy, unsteady breathing evens out as Ro shifts, shrugging off his cloak and wrapping it around Mapicc. Gently setting him down on the grass, Ro curls around and over top of him. The battle is over, they'll mourn their losses later. For the moment, cold and warmth wraps together in a perfect balance.