// I've been trying to fix my pride //
The return of her touch is all the reassurance he needs that this is smoothed over and they have a way forward. More than that, it nestles warm in his heart, the way such drifts of attention are becoming more commonplace instead of awkward emergences, each of them wandering blind through this tug between them. He doesn't fight it, but he's wary to give into it entirely and crush her with the weight of all the affection he's let grow over time. That he needs to relearn parts of her, this included, is all part of the walkway he figures.
Then there's the egg.
One might think there'd be some amount of caution afforded to an oddity nestled amid the sand, bright like the usual warning sign nature wears. Mel, however, forges on undaunted, like always, and he can't keep back the small smile at the way she just plucks up the object and claims it. "It's just...a painted egg?" His 'brows lift, matching her wonder and what the fuck? He shrugs with as much care about it as he can muster. "Pretty," and weird could be added at the end and both would be true.
He stands up as she pockets it, wandering further yet, glancing for something useful among the ruins of old remains. "What are all these from?" he wonders aloud, head tilting back as they walk beneath the bow of a spine. He stumbles then, and perhaps his fault for lifting his head up on uneven ground, or perhaps it's because the wind moves the ground around, hiding and later uncovering various pockets of dead treasures. There, where his toe had just been, a smooth and round portion of bone pokes free when he looks back accusingly. "Hey," he tugs with his voice, pivoting back towards it. "That looks promising." He edges back, stooping down to run his palm over the shell that emerges steadily. A large tortoise after all.
Then there's the egg.
One might think there'd be some amount of caution afforded to an oddity nestled amid the sand, bright like the usual warning sign nature wears. Mel, however, forges on undaunted, like always, and he can't keep back the small smile at the way she just plucks up the object and claims it. "It's just...a painted egg?" His 'brows lift, matching her wonder and what the fuck? He shrugs with as much care about it as he can muster. "Pretty," and weird could be added at the end and both would be true.
He stands up as she pockets it, wandering further yet, glancing for something useful among the ruins of old remains. "What are all these from?" he wonders aloud, head tilting back as they walk beneath the bow of a spine. He stumbles then, and perhaps his fault for lifting his head up on uneven ground, or perhaps it's because the wind moves the ground around, hiding and later uncovering various pockets of dead treasures. There, where his toe had just been, a smooth and round portion of bone pokes free when he looks back accusingly. "Hey," he tugs with his voice, pivoting back towards it. "That looks promising." He edges back, stooping down to run his palm over the shell that emerges steadily. A large tortoise after all.
Iskra
// But that shit's broken //
