// and all my flowers grew back as thorns //
He doesn’t care whether she wanted to keep her composure or pretend like things weren’t bothering her. He cares that she’s okay. And the only way the courtesan knows how to do that is to offer touch, comfort, care. Her arms are warm around him in the cool night air and he uses some of his magic to make sure that the wind breezing through doesn’t hit them too hard while they’re out here on the porch, but other than that? He’ll hug her for however long she needs.
“Yeah.” He says unhelpfully – because while he’d never been in love, he can kind of get the image from what she says as well as his own previous experiences. Of times when he’d strived to be exactly what his father wanted, the perfect little architect because that’s what he was raised to want to be. Building the next strongholds of Halo, just like his father did and his grandfather before him. But Thorn had wanderlust, he longed for places outside of the harsh winters of Halo, of learning how others survived their own temperamental weathers and temperatures. So when he got out? He stayed out. It beat going back because the time that he did, when he told his family what he did now, his father’s disapproval was the sharp bitter taste of acid on his tongue.
She pulls away and Thorn lets her, though he keeps his warm hands on her shoulders, flashing her a soft smile and a shake of his head to her apology. She didn’t need to. “It’s okay.” He confirms for her, giving her shoulders a gentle squeeze. And when she finishes the story and tells him he did sacrifice everything in the end, that he wasn’t here anymore, the smile she sends his way is one that’s equally stunning as it is relieving. “Good. I’m glad.” He didn’t really know Colt all that well – more so, thanks to tonight – but he’d always known she was strong. He just didn’t know how strong. And maybe it goes without saying, but the smile he flashes her way is gentle and tender as it is fierce. “You are strong, Colt. And you’re you. Not him. Not whatever box he made ya fit into. Maybe those parts've ya are hidden now 'cause of what he did, but if he's gone, those parts didn't go with him.”
He really believes that they're still there, deep down amid the heartache and pain.
“Yeah.” He says unhelpfully – because while he’d never been in love, he can kind of get the image from what she says as well as his own previous experiences. Of times when he’d strived to be exactly what his father wanted, the perfect little architect because that’s what he was raised to want to be. Building the next strongholds of Halo, just like his father did and his grandfather before him. But Thorn had wanderlust, he longed for places outside of the harsh winters of Halo, of learning how others survived their own temperamental weathers and temperatures. So when he got out? He stayed out. It beat going back because the time that he did, when he told his family what he did now, his father’s disapproval was the sharp bitter taste of acid on his tongue.
She pulls away and Thorn lets her, though he keeps his warm hands on her shoulders, flashing her a soft smile and a shake of his head to her apology. She didn’t need to. “It’s okay.” He confirms for her, giving her shoulders a gentle squeeze. And when she finishes the story and tells him he did sacrifice everything in the end, that he wasn’t here anymore, the smile she sends his way is one that’s equally stunning as it is relieving. “Good. I’m glad.” He didn’t really know Colt all that well – more so, thanks to tonight – but he’d always known she was strong. He just didn’t know how strong. And maybe it goes without saying, but the smile he flashes her way is gentle and tender as it is fierce. “You are strong, Colt. And you’re you. Not him. Not whatever box he made ya fit into. Maybe those parts've ya are hidden now 'cause of what he did, but if he's gone, those parts didn't go with him.”
He really believes that they're still there, deep down amid the heartache and pain.
THORN
