a thousand faces staring at me, a thousand times i've fallen
There is comfort that gleams within Hester’s eyes, and perhaps that’s part of the reason he follows her to the library. But if he had his choice, he absolutely would remain within the confines of the entrance, ready to leave at a moments notice if things went south. He doesn’t know what to do without something in his hands, doesn’t know how to deal other the emotions that are knotted up tight in his chest.
But she tugs him along, and at this point poor Glas is along for the ride. He can at least admit that it was better than his alternative, hiding away from everyone else. So when they find a place for just themselves, he runs a hand through his blonde hair, that hand falling back to both hide and press against the scar that twists up from his mouth to the side of his face.
He believes her when she says it wasn’t awkward, despite how much it feels like that. And her joke works well enough, a smile curling up on the other side of his face, a nod granted that has blonde hair falling forward again, green eyes dropping to the table. “T-that’s true.” He manages, recalling how she’d never stuck around places if they were dull, still unable to find himself as one that wasn’t considered that. “Thanks… For h-helping.” With the table, with the hug, unsure what else to say, what conversation to strike up.
But she tugs him along, and at this point poor Glas is along for the ride. He can at least admit that it was better than his alternative, hiding away from everyone else. So when they find a place for just themselves, he runs a hand through his blonde hair, that hand falling back to both hide and press against the scar that twists up from his mouth to the side of his face.
He believes her when she says it wasn’t awkward, despite how much it feels like that. And her joke works well enough, a smile curling up on the other side of his face, a nod granted that has blonde hair falling forward again, green eyes dropping to the table. “T-that’s true.” He manages, recalling how she’d never stuck around places if they were dull, still unable to find himself as one that wasn’t considered that. “Thanks… For h-helping.” With the table, with the hug, unsure what else to say, what conversation to strike up.
a thousand voices dead at my feet
GLAS
