I'm not giving up, kicking off the rust
He looks up at her with every bit of splintered confusion and wounded longing he has. Not even all of them broken off of Caly. He'd been able to hide it when it'd just been her back staring back, but as she kneels next to him, he can't quite tug it away fast enough, and gods if that isn't the worst that right now she's the one comforting him.
She does though, comfort him. Her presence, even without a touch, and her careful advice. It all makes sense when she lays it out like that, and it smooths over some of the wrinkles that had been caused when that thread started to get snagged on that abysmal night. "Yeah," he says weakly, because the wake of all his breathless confessions just left him feeling empty and tired. Gods, what he wouldn't give to just going back to arguing with Rebecca in Stormbreak. "You're probably right. It's part of why I didn't..." He huffs. "I would have told her, just, not there, like that. She wanted to know though." Maybe he ought to get better at this whole, lying to protect someone thing. She said she wanted it, but look what it did. If he'd endured some of her anger for the evening, or been more suave about redirecting attention, he could have talked to her in a setting that didn't put her into such a spectacle.
His eyes drag up from the floor where they'd fallen in thought, drawn to her again. All those broken pieces seem to click together into one sharp certainty now as his amber meets her seagreen. "No, absolutely do not do that," his voice comes out a little too abrupt, edged with something fierce. "What?!" she might as well have slapped him for how her words land. "Flora," he insists, "we both played a role that night." His expression softens, a plea threading through. "We didn’t regret it, right? So you can’t start assigning blame, and I won't let you put that weight on your shoulders too." He'd already listened to her shoulder all the rest, he'd be damned if he let her take this one on.
She does though, comfort him. Her presence, even without a touch, and her careful advice. It all makes sense when she lays it out like that, and it smooths over some of the wrinkles that had been caused when that thread started to get snagged on that abysmal night. "Yeah," he says weakly, because the wake of all his breathless confessions just left him feeling empty and tired. Gods, what he wouldn't give to just going back to arguing with Rebecca in Stormbreak. "You're probably right. It's part of why I didn't..." He huffs. "I would have told her, just, not there, like that. She wanted to know though." Maybe he ought to get better at this whole, lying to protect someone thing. She said she wanted it, but look what it did. If he'd endured some of her anger for the evening, or been more suave about redirecting attention, he could have talked to her in a setting that didn't put her into such a spectacle.
His eyes drag up from the floor where they'd fallen in thought, drawn to her again. All those broken pieces seem to click together into one sharp certainty now as his amber meets her seagreen. "No, absolutely do not do that," his voice comes out a little too abrupt, edged with something fierce. "What?!" she might as well have slapped him for how her words land. "Flora," he insists, "we both played a role that night." His expression softens, a plea threading through. "We didn’t regret it, right? So you can’t start assigning blame, and I won't let you put that weight on your shoulders too." He'd already listened to her shoulder all the rest, he'd be damned if he let her take this one on.
Kaisel
I keep acting tough but maybe I'm not good enough
Wearing a watery blue, faded and stretched-out sparkling hair tie on his left wrist
