[ Something buzzes and pops like a failing power line outside as the lights brighten, accompanied by a sharp ping as the creature drops the glass in its... hands isn't the right word, neither is paws, digits is really the only descriptor that suffices—regardless, the creature drops it with a screech and it rolls down the uneven wooden floorboards to stop at his feet.
Vasiliy crouches further down, watching it as it trembles, flattening itself against the solid barrier of the wall behind it like it wants to go much further than that. Fear. It's not that different from a frightened cat in the way it behaves, really, reduced to something much less than an apex predator or a threat to human life as it cowers outside of its comfortable, familiar environment in the cold unknown. He feels... a degree of sympathy for it. For the extra-terrestrial causing Konstantin so much pain and psychological distress. It's a troubling thought, no matter how much he understands it to be an innately human reflex.
And it's also hard to decide what to do. It might want to go back inside of Kostya and be too disoriented and confused to figure out which way to go to do that. Maybe the pain is keeping it from wanting to return, trapped between one unpleasant extreme and another. And he doesn't want to wake Kostya just to suffer through the horrific abdominal pain he's been having these past few aurora nights, either. ]
Easy. Easy. You're okay. It's alright.
[ He uses the same tone of voice he'd use to reassure a very small child—he hasn't actually interacted with many animals in his lifetime, and that's the closest relevant experience he has.
But, like an animal, it probably would benefit from something to hide in until the aurora ends. If only they had cardboard boxes here. Vasiliy presses his lips together and glances quickly around the room—still reluctant to take his eyes off of the creature for long—and then his eyes come to rest on the extra throw blanket folded atop the chest at the foot of the bed. That would at least give it something to hide in, would at least provide darkness and a sense of concealment.
He gets up slowly, taking a few steps to get it and walking back before he crouches back down, unfolds it, and shoves it in a messy pile under the bed. ]
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Vasiliy crouches further down, watching it as it trembles, flattening itself against the solid barrier of the wall behind it like it wants to go much further than that. Fear. It's not that different from a frightened cat in the way it behaves, really, reduced to something much less than an apex predator or a threat to human life as it cowers outside of its comfortable, familiar environment in the cold unknown. He feels... a degree of sympathy for it. For the extra-terrestrial causing Konstantin so much pain and psychological distress. It's a troubling thought, no matter how much he understands it to be an innately human reflex.
And it's also hard to decide what to do. It might want to go back inside of Kostya and be too disoriented and confused to figure out which way to go to do that. Maybe the pain is keeping it from wanting to return, trapped between one unpleasant extreme and another. And he doesn't want to wake Kostya just to suffer through the horrific abdominal pain he's been having these past few aurora nights, either. ]
Easy. Easy. You're okay. It's alright.
[ He uses the same tone of voice he'd use to reassure a very small child—he hasn't actually interacted with many animals in his lifetime, and that's the closest relevant experience he has.
But, like an animal, it probably would benefit from something to hide in until the aurora ends. If only they had cardboard boxes here. Vasiliy presses his lips together and glances quickly around the room—still reluctant to take his eyes off of the creature for long—and then his eyes come to rest on the extra throw blanket folded atop the chest at the foot of the bed. That would at least give it something to hide in, would at least provide darkness and a sense of concealment.
He gets up slowly, taking a few steps to get it and walking back before he crouches back down, unfolds it, and shoves it in a messy pile under the bed. ]
Here. You want to hide?