Damien
oh, let's take a chance and roll the bones
try to forget all them enemies and debts
try to forget all them enemies and debts
Damien lets the nudge press for a heartbeat longer than strictly necessary, the faint weight of her shoulder grounding him in the present. He doesn’t pull back, doesn’t shift—it’s subtle, but deliberate. A corner of his mouth quirks up, sharper this time, more like an acknowledgment than a smile.
“You make it sound heroic,” he says dryly, lifting his sunglasses, the golden rim catching the sunlight. “Sailing halfway across the realms, helping strangers… next thing'll have me rescuing lost puppies, too.” He pauses, eyes flicking to the way the light scatters across the water, restless yet steady.
“It isn’t always simple,” he admits after a beat, voice quiet now, roughened by thought rather than intent. “Sometimes people choose to stay close, 'n make you realize… solitude’s not really yours to keep, an' so you just try to leave things better than you found them.” The words hang, too solemn to be a boast.
Then, leaning back just enough to catch a stronger breeze, he nods toward the horizon. “You know,” he says, smirk threading through the roughness of his tone, “for someone who nearly packed it in, you make it look… easy.” He lets the compliment hang, understated, genuine, not the kind that demands thanks. “What keeps you going when the cost is so high?” If it had cost her love and life.
“You make it sound heroic,” he says dryly, lifting his sunglasses, the golden rim catching the sunlight. “Sailing halfway across the realms, helping strangers… next thing'll have me rescuing lost puppies, too.” He pauses, eyes flicking to the way the light scatters across the water, restless yet steady.
“It isn’t always simple,” he admits after a beat, voice quiet now, roughened by thought rather than intent. “Sometimes people choose to stay close, 'n make you realize… solitude’s not really yours to keep, an' so you just try to leave things better than you found them.” The words hang, too solemn to be a boast.
Then, leaning back just enough to catch a stronger breeze, he nods toward the horizon. “You know,” he says, smirk threading through the roughness of his tone, “for someone who nearly packed it in, you make it look… easy.” He lets the compliment hang, understated, genuine, not the kind that demands thanks. “What keeps you going when the cost is so high?” If it had cost her love and life.
