Oh, darling, if I ever cross your mind
The disbelief in hearing his name slip from the other man is replaced immediately with relief. He doesn’t have a drink to toast with him just yet, but he nods his head as the smile blooms on his face brighter, and with a quick and brief glance around he’ll notice that the rum fountain is beside them and a multitude of empty glasses just waiting for the taking. He doesn’t grab anything just yet, not as Damien approaches and he slips further back into the shroud of the outskirts of the party, not wanting to be swept up just yet in the rowdiness of it all.
Damien moves precisely the same as Thorn remembers - like he’s got a purpose or he’s tracking. Sure footed and certain that each place he lands is precisely where he intends to, not that Thorn had seen him flustered much if he didn’t. He wore a perfect guise that had been perfected long before Thorn had a chance to see beneath the surface.
There were times, though, and those had been some of the better days he can remember from the cold climate of Halo.
Old habits become familiar again as he slips in beside him and Thorn’s smile twitches upwards, brighter. “Yeah, well, I was livin’ it up here ’til King’s End became livable. Guess I missed the snows just enough to go somewhere where it could a few times a year.” He sighs, rolling his eyes, before he shoots a smile and a soft laugh over toward his old friend.
He’d never really been one for visiting back home unless he had to - but Damien knew that already. He knew that Thorn’s relationship with his father wasn’t great, which had lead to him often finding a way to get out of the house to tag along with the woodsman.
Nodding briefly to hear that they were here to celebrate and he’d lost his crew in the crowd, Thorn snorts and sighs - he’d been there once upon a time, swept up in the bustle that was the parties in the Port. He glances out at the crowd before looking back at Damien with a flicker of nostalgia and a bit of relief for the tension that had lingered in his shoulders. “Well, my ship just left, so… Ain’t goin’ anywhere quick.” Offering a dramatic and resigned sigh, he laughs it off lightly as he steps to the side, snagging one of those empty glasses and dunks it into the fountain, snagging some of the liquor and returning, holding it away from his body enough to let the rum drip off the side of the glass without falling into his clothes.
“So yeah, if you’ve been tryin’ to find me, I’ve been livin’ it up in magical rooms.” Suddenly unsure if Damien even knows what Thorn’s career is these days — it had been aimed for architecture when he’d departed Halo, following in the Family Name with their building affinity — it’d be clear now that between Thorn’s appearance and the ease of which he flashed a charming smile here and there, that it definitely wasn’t what he ended up doing. “You still huntin’ an’ trappin’ in Halo?”
Damien moves precisely the same as Thorn remembers - like he’s got a purpose or he’s tracking. Sure footed and certain that each place he lands is precisely where he intends to, not that Thorn had seen him flustered much if he didn’t. He wore a perfect guise that had been perfected long before Thorn had a chance to see beneath the surface.
There were times, though, and those had been some of the better days he can remember from the cold climate of Halo.
Old habits become familiar again as he slips in beside him and Thorn’s smile twitches upwards, brighter. “Yeah, well, I was livin’ it up here ’til King’s End became livable. Guess I missed the snows just enough to go somewhere where it could a few times a year.” He sighs, rolling his eyes, before he shoots a smile and a soft laugh over toward his old friend.
He’d never really been one for visiting back home unless he had to - but Damien knew that already. He knew that Thorn’s relationship with his father wasn’t great, which had lead to him often finding a way to get out of the house to tag along with the woodsman.
Nodding briefly to hear that they were here to celebrate and he’d lost his crew in the crowd, Thorn snorts and sighs - he’d been there once upon a time, swept up in the bustle that was the parties in the Port. He glances out at the crowd before looking back at Damien with a flicker of nostalgia and a bit of relief for the tension that had lingered in his shoulders. “Well, my ship just left, so… Ain’t goin’ anywhere quick.” Offering a dramatic and resigned sigh, he laughs it off lightly as he steps to the side, snagging one of those empty glasses and dunks it into the fountain, snagging some of the liquor and returning, holding it away from his body enough to let the rum drip off the side of the glass without falling into his clothes.
“So yeah, if you’ve been tryin’ to find me, I’ve been livin’ it up in magical rooms.” Suddenly unsure if Damien even knows what Thorn’s career is these days — it had been aimed for architecture when he’d departed Halo, following in the Family Name with their building affinity — it’d be clear now that between Thorn’s appearance and the ease of which he flashed a charming smile here and there, that it definitely wasn’t what he ended up doing. “You still huntin’ an’ trappin’ in Halo?”
Hawthorn
Won't you let me know?
