Words hung above but never would form
Like a cry at the final breath that is drawn
Like a cry at the final breath that is drawn
The quest for a flower having been yet again unsuccessful (RNG, whyyyy), Koa turns his attention to the other job he's been given. Pulling his wraps out of his pack, he lowers them into the healing water, watching as moisture stains white cloth a darker shade of grey. It keeps him from grinning maniacally at Lena, which is better for them both. Unlike with Zavien, who Koa has no qualms bullying into a confession, the young Dragoon feels he ought to treat the Caretaker with a lighter touch.
"It is," he agrees easily, flashing a languid and knowing smile up at the brunette. Then his attention returns to the wraps in the water, a play at nonchalance he's not nearly subtle enough to really pull off. "I just think... when people care about someone, they shouldn't be scared to say it. Like, if you care about him, I think he'd really want to know." A shadow passing over his face, the Dragoon adds in a softer, darker tone: "And if you don't, you should make that clear, too."
He's been burned too many times by lopsided attachment to wish it on his friend.
"It is," he agrees easily, flashing a languid and knowing smile up at the brunette. Then his attention returns to the wraps in the water, a play at nonchalance he's not nearly subtle enough to really pull off. "I just think... when people care about someone, they shouldn't be scared to say it. Like, if you care about him, I think he'd really want to know." A shadow passing over his face, the Dragoon adds in a softer, darker tone: "And if you don't, you should make that clear, too."
He's been burned too many times by lopsided attachment to wish it on his friend.
Koa Carpenter
Mama said, burn your biographies
Rewrite your history, light up your wildest dreams
Rewrite your history, light up your wildest dreams
