Noah didn't want to shift. The grief would be too palpable on his human face, in the deep etches around his lips and in the downcast of his glacier eyes. Even the stone of his features would look cracked, torn apart again by the loss of another friend, amplified by the fact that he hadn't know for months. As wounded as he was, he wanted to break against the man's demands and tell him to go find somewhere else to be.
But there was something in the way his hands moved, and the fact that he was bandaging and animal, that gave him understanding (or, at least, assumption) of who he was now looking at: this was Lena's replacement.
A new wind of grief breathed over him and had he been a man, griffin, with less self control he would have made an audible sound of the internal pain. Instead, controlled and cold and Halovian, Noah shifted in silence. His immense, muscled frame lowered until it was just him, a man with bare arms and puffy, red eyes, sitting on the bench. Better?
But there was something in the way his hands moved, and the fact that he was bandaging and animal, that gave him understanding (or, at least, assumption) of who he was now looking at: this was Lena's replacement.
A new wind of grief breathed over him and had he been a man, griffin, with less self control he would have made an audible sound of the internal pain. Instead, controlled and cold and Halovian, Noah shifted in silence. His immense, muscled frame lowered until it was just him, a man with bare arms and puffy, red eyes, sitting on the bench. Better?
noah
you touched my heavy heart and made it light
