[ Soft. Automatic. An open wound, straight to the heart, that they have no intention of showing to anyone, let alone this frustrating, equally-wounded person.
And yet, they can't tear their gaze away, even as their eyes begin to sting. ]
...I-it just reminded me of something for a moment. That's all.
[ The roses aren't even the right colour. There is no faint trace of salt on the air, only the omnipresent oil and dirt tang of Bavan. The comparison of their heart is, in a word, pointless.
They swallow past the unwelcome lump in their throat, and fix the polite mask back into place. Not now, not here, not ever. ]
There's no need to risk that sort of danger for something like this. The arbor is fine.
[ And that's all there is to it, because there's no room to complain about this, either, before they take off in a brisk but supportive hobble. ]
no subject
[ Soft. Automatic. An open wound, straight to the heart, that they have no intention of showing to anyone, let alone this frustrating, equally-wounded person.
And yet, they can't tear their gaze away, even as their eyes begin to sting. ]
...I-it just reminded me of something for a moment. That's all.
[ The roses aren't even the right colour. There is no faint trace of salt on the air, only the omnipresent oil and dirt tang of Bavan. The comparison of their heart is, in a word, pointless.
They swallow past the unwelcome lump in their throat, and fix the polite mask back into place. Not now, not here, not ever. ]
There's no need to risk that sort of danger for something like this. The arbor is fine.
[ And that's all there is to it, because there's no room to complain about this, either, before they take off in a brisk but supportive hobble. ]