#so sometimees being TOLD he can feel something or do something

[deathfavor]

@yeonban said: “  you don’t have to deal with this alone.  ” shalnark states, finally chancing on chrollo's spot after purposefully searching for him, well aware of the other's habits. the death of a leg always leaves a bitter taste in the spider's mouth, but the death of one of the original members cannot compare to what they've become used to over the years. the sixth leg steps closer then, glancing at the leader's face to assess the situation, and decides to sit down next to him. shalnark looks off into the distance instead of at the other however, allowing the head some privacy while offering his company and support through a hand gently raised to pat twice, then rest on chrollo's back. “  it’s okay if you need to cry. it’s just me. let it out.  ” (tbh this can go for uvo's or paku's death or even both, so it's up to u which they're talking about!)

The head can be elusive to find at the best of times when not summoning a meeting, but if Chrollo truly wished to disappear from the world or those who might seek him out, he would not be found. ( After all, his full abilities were a secret to all sans himself - not out of lack of trust but mainly lack of inquiry and its everchanging nature. ) He doesn't turn his gaze away from where he sits on the rooftop, overlooking the oncoming clouds with an inscrutable expression. The wind has begun to pick up, and Chrollo's appearance falls half between that of the phantom troupe leader, and half that of Chrollo the enigma. Some of it is remains slicked back, but it has loosened to something more relaxed, black wisps fluttering free in the increasing wind. It is hard to say whether it is grief that darkens his eyes, or merely the fading of light when clouds reach out. ( And yet, those things are not so different. For grief to thrive, light must retreat. )

They sit in silence, and were it not for the small breaths and occasional blinks, they might be mistaken for limestone statues carved for the ancient building. His lips quiver almost imperceptivity when he feels the pat against his shoulders. The words had not made a wound, but the act of a gentle touch makes something quiver in his chest. Like glass, he feels hard to scratch with words yet the touch feels like it could shatter him in its care. Shalnark's hand lingers, painful in its warmth as it rests against him.

You don't have to deal with this alone and It's just me. But there's nothing just about it.

Finally Chrollo leans to the side and tears his eyes away so his forehead can rest against Shalnark's shoulder. For a moment, he does nothing. He says nothing. And then there's a silent tremble under Shalnark's touch, a shake of shoulders and stutter of breath that catches in his throat. " I know. " Chrollo admits, a quiet rooftop admission that he makes to the only one whose found him. He knows that even as the head, the troupe would understand. If it were himself, he would not weep. But for those dear that were lost.

The worst part is none of them know where one leg has fallen.

Chrollo has missed both deaths. Even if one had been unnecessary, acting against expectation, the loss is painful all the same. In the end, it had been a task for the legs to make - not the head when it was snared.

Quietly, a sob eases out from where it has sat trapped in his chest for far too long. Death was something they all knew could and would one day come for them. That knowledge did not make loss any easier when it struck. Especially when it was the originals, when it was someone who had known him long before Chrollo had become the man he was today. He weeps, for himself and for others like Jesus for Lazarus, quiet and pained. The spider will have to move forward as it always does, but Chrollo never forgets those who have fallen - and for that they will always remain a part of the Troupe. That is not a death they shall face - there wil be no death of memory so long as they breathe.

He does not keep track of the time that is lost to the grief. It is not terribly long for the rain has yet to reach them. But it is long enough. Chrollo lets his eyes rest for a minute longer as he recomposes himself. " Thank you, Shalnark. " His voice is stronger now despite the rough edge that crying had given it. He lifts his head off his shoulder, grey eyes lighter than before when he gives a thin smile as delicate yet sturdy as a thread of spidersilk. He turns his head a bit after a moment. " I think I needed to hear that. " Even if Chrollo had already known that truth, the simple act of sharing the moment let doors unlock that had before stayed sealed.