on the low, i get vertigo from body overdose
Thorn studies Casimir’s face, seeing the brief twitch cross his face as the stars begin to shift and change back to those easily seen from King’s End. It’s another point where he thinks that he might have gone a little too far, but his question is from a place of innocent curiosity – something that seems to suggest there’d be little judgement in it if Casimir told him what he did back then. Thorn wouldn’t keep his a secret – most of it, at least – because he’d worked at the brothel there, too, a courtesan for the Halenani where he’d started this adventure of shifting his careers.
But he draws silent, doesn’t fill the space with assumptions and questions when Cas hasn’t answered anything yet. And if he retreats into himself, Thorn would let him. He’d gotten him this far, it’s a win either way, but anything else that the handsome bartender can offer would just be a cherry on top. So he settles there, open and curious, allowing himself to be studied too in the way that only Casimir seemed to study him.
And then, he watches as Casimir nods – single and sharp but an answer in and of itself. Even as he straightens up and his shoulders grow tense again, Thorn’s seafoam gaze dances across his face and really looks when he changes his attention toward the sky as if to make sure it had changed. “I miss it sometimes. The heat, the rum, the sailors.” He shrugs lightly, remaining relaxed as he fills the air with his side of the story of Torchline, trying to take a little bit of a charge to convince Casimir to open up easier.
“Though I think if I have t’hear one more story ‘bout the fuckin’ Arclight an’ the ghost whales, I might actually die.” His face pinches in a look of distaste, like if he tied hard enough he could force his face to shift to a shade of green. But he shakes out of it, shooting a softer smile toward Casimir before he turns his attention up toward the sky again. “But I missed the snow, too. The… Harshness of it. I grew up in Halo so maybe I’m jus’ a glutton for punishment.” He snorts, shaking his head slightly before he sighs. “Or maybe I jus’ miss the danger. Like.. In a snowstorm. The way your heart races ‘n your stomach gets all light.”
But he draws silent, doesn’t fill the space with assumptions and questions when Cas hasn’t answered anything yet. And if he retreats into himself, Thorn would let him. He’d gotten him this far, it’s a win either way, but anything else that the handsome bartender can offer would just be a cherry on top. So he settles there, open and curious, allowing himself to be studied too in the way that only Casimir seemed to study him.
And then, he watches as Casimir nods – single and sharp but an answer in and of itself. Even as he straightens up and his shoulders grow tense again, Thorn’s seafoam gaze dances across his face and really looks when he changes his attention toward the sky as if to make sure it had changed. “I miss it sometimes. The heat, the rum, the sailors.” He shrugs lightly, remaining relaxed as he fills the air with his side of the story of Torchline, trying to take a little bit of a charge to convince Casimir to open up easier.
“Though I think if I have t’hear one more story ‘bout the fuckin’ Arclight an’ the ghost whales, I might actually die.” His face pinches in a look of distaste, like if he tied hard enough he could force his face to shift to a shade of green. But he shakes out of it, shooting a softer smile toward Casimir before he turns his attention up toward the sky again. “But I missed the snow, too. The… Harshness of it. I grew up in Halo so maybe I’m jus’ a glutton for punishment.” He snorts, shaking his head slightly before he sighs. “Or maybe I jus’ miss the danger. Like.. In a snowstorm. The way your heart races ‘n your stomach gets all light.”
Hawthorn
so tell me your name and tell me your problems, i got the same
