something about rocks and windows

Something about a pack that welcomed the huddled masses and a soggy boy with a gross cough being out in the cold-- the kind of thing that goes together like peanut butter and jelly. Erik could feel the pressure system moving in, his chest and throat aching in it. He feels it through the back of his neck as well, a stiffness that threatens to set in if he stills for too long. As Ember appeared in the window, the thunder picked up. Erik could damn near taste the lightning on his tongue. Thor swinging his hammer, the vikings would explain. While Erik wasn't wholly sold on them, it's a comfort all the same.

Her instructions are clear, though the heist movie music is oddly absent. Instead Erik is silhouetted by the crack of lightning, his footsteps obscured by the rain. It wraps him up, the man dripping wet by the time he slips through the doors of the castle. Hugging the walls had taken him the long way around, the viking bastard slipping as quietly as he could through the front doors of the castle. For someone not used to being inside at all, it's even harder on his nerves. Sneaking... well, Ember had just invited him in. But still sneaking. It's fine, Erik is the king of faking it until he makes it.

Thankfully, he doesn't need to. Just as she promised, Ember met him halfway. He's struck for a long moment, gaze falling on the girl where she stands. Backlit by another scar of lightning flashing across the sky, she's... damn. To see her in such a state felt near like a privilege. Was that silly? Maybe. But she's always so put together, and this is something not everyone sees. No. Pull your head together, boy. It's getting loud in there again.

The bastard prince moves to her side, his cheek pressing against hers in gentle greeting. She was clean, still damp. Erik is soggy, his breath still ragged and near as wet as his coat. He has control over those breaths, they're just loud. And they sting. A haunting sound for a haunting boy. Clearing his throat, trying to rid himself of it... for someone who usually owned his cryptid nature, Erik would pretend he wasn't a bit embarrassed about it now. At least the handsome face makes up for it. "Sorry I..." the words died on his lips. It was a long story.

"Wasn't expectin' rain." The words come with a rakish grin. It plays across his features... maybe it wasn't the whole truth, but it was part, and that's good enough for now. Partial truth or not, it's landed him here, cold and damp, in her hallway. Erik must be doing something right.

"Speech"