there's this tune I found that makes me think of you somehow
His mouth twisted faintly towards Fox, the point of a fang glinting as his lips parted to say something, but instead Charlie’s voice drew his attention. Soren glanced her way over the rim of his mug. The look lasted a heartbeat too long before his gaze slid sharply aside, shoulders tightening almost imperceptibly. His jaw flexed. The roundness of her stomach was unavoidable. Deeply, profoundly uncomfortable. He drank again. Aithne had not told him of Charlie's recent development. His tail flicked behind him.
“No.” he said, tone blunt but not deeply unkind. “Not her brother. It’s deeper than that.” said. A small shrug followed, dismissive on the surface but failing to hide the truth beneath it. There was no amount of shared DNA that could compare to what he and Aithne shared together. Could not hold a candle to how they had left their lives and stood before their radiant and chaotic goddess and dedicated their lives to her. What they had was deeper than any bond of brother or sisterhood. Which was about as close as Soren would come to admitting that Aithne occupied a place no title quite fit, out loud, to anyone. He finished the coffee in a final swallow and set the mug down with a quiet clink. Lingering around conversations about family -- and hovering near an ancient priestess who looked like she might give birth at any moment -- felt like unnecessary torture.
Still slightly begrudging to his entire presence here, Soren still followed Fox to their task. Having no arguement between the two older ancients on where the fountain should go -- for he didn't really have that deep of an opinion on it -- he just prepared his mind for work. He reached into his pocket to grab his gloves, pulling them on. While he didn't need them for warmth yet, looking at what they were about to haul he would want them for grip. Granite blocks and dark slabs of obsidian waited where the masons had unloaded them. Soren flexed his fingers once before stepping toward the nearest piece of granite, crouching to grip the rough edge, waiting for someone else to take the other side before he lifted on their mark, clearly straining.
“No.” he said, tone blunt but not deeply unkind. “Not her brother. It’s deeper than that.” said. A small shrug followed, dismissive on the surface but failing to hide the truth beneath it. There was no amount of shared DNA that could compare to what he and Aithne shared together. Could not hold a candle to how they had left their lives and stood before their radiant and chaotic goddess and dedicated their lives to her. What they had was deeper than any bond of brother or sisterhood. Which was about as close as Soren would come to admitting that Aithne occupied a place no title quite fit, out loud, to anyone. He finished the coffee in a final swallow and set the mug down with a quiet clink. Lingering around conversations about family -- and hovering near an ancient priestess who looked like she might give birth at any moment -- felt like unnecessary torture.
Still slightly begrudging to his entire presence here, Soren still followed Fox to their task. Having no arguement between the two older ancients on where the fountain should go -- for he didn't really have that deep of an opinion on it -- he just prepared his mind for work. He reached into his pocket to grab his gloves, pulling them on. While he didn't need them for warmth yet, looking at what they were about to haul he would want them for grip. Granite blocks and dark slabs of obsidian waited where the masons had unloaded them. Soren flexed his fingers once before stepping toward the nearest piece of granite, crouching to grip the rough edge, waiting for someone else to take the other side before he lifted on their mark, clearly straining.
Soren
and I play it on repeat
