KISS FROM A ROSE || giving out roses

[LAZARUS]

[align=center][div style="width: 500px; text-align: justify; font-family: arial; font-size: 9.5pt; line-height: 1.4;letter-spacing:.1px"]Lazarus could never remember his dreams clearly. During the hazy hours of the morning, he can at most recall some faces, some memories. It's enough to piece together an idea of what dream him copes with every time he falls to restless sleep. More often than not, they're worry-driven nightmares that he can easily deny come morning. He dreams about Gabe when his chest and throat are red, then of broken, torn wings. He dreams of teeth in the back of his neck again, or his own antlers snapping. Sometimes he hears their cajoling, their fake-friendly, uproarious laughter and the way they said Diablo both as an insult and as praise. He doesn't want to remember his dreams, so it's for the best that he doesn't. Oftentimes it leaves him wandering to chase off the last traces of bad memories, and that's how he ends up with these two. Of everyone in The Ascendants (aside from el anciano, of course), these two are the ones he finds himself most at ease with. Probably because they're both more interested in saving people than tearing them down, and maybe because he could use some saving too. Not that he'd ever admit to it, 'specially when he hardly knows them.

As always, Laz is a little awkward when he approaches. Heavy head low and eyes decidedly not on either one of them, strangely hesitant for someone of his size and attitude. Learning to be meek was unnatural, but definitely better than snapping at their throats. "Lo necesita," he scoffs in agreement to the lion's comment, and — and maybe he decides he could use one for himself, though he never really cared for pretty things. "Do you grow them?"