For as much a Mercutio likes to think he doesn’t care, there’s been a certain level of constant control he’s wielded over himself ever since making the rash decision to stay a while in the desert. Emotions, impulses, all held on ruthlessly short leashes because the thought of caring was such a weight on his mind. All his life he’d easily avoided attachments and all that hard work crumbled at the pretty Forger’s feet. Dammit he’d cared and just as soon as that emotion had taken root its source had been ripped away and Mercutio had been sent reeling. It all comes out now as the wolfs griping tapers off to pitiful little whines. You scared me, Sunshine. You had me worried sick!
The hand in is fur is the best thing he’s felt in this or any lifetime. He lets himself quiet for a moment, lets himself be soothed because even with all his own surging frustrations is the overwhelming sense of relief.
Cera is alive.
That truth comes to life within him and takes over, stronger than the thrum of his own wretched heart. Cera the Funny, Cera the Sweet, Cera the Good, Cera the Living. Cera the Living! It would never have made sense if Mercutio had survived the tearing of the world and Cera had not. In what reality could that have been justified? It was the sunny one who deserved a chance to live and thrive and be happy. And here he is, through starscapes and lifetimes, Cera is here.
Mercutio pushes himself into a sitting position, plastering his side against Cera and lets himself lean. With a great doggy sigh, he lets himself take in his scent again, letting it be a comfort and not a torment. And it is a ‘letting’; a surrender for a while to all the emotion he’s kept shoved deep down where he can pretend to ignore it all. There’s a soft thump on the ground as his fluffy tail gives a first heavy wag and even that is too much admission for Mercutio to handle. He hides his face, burying the massive grey head into to crook of Cera’s neck. There’s another little whine even as his tail gives another couple little thumps. He'd never been so happy to be so completely fucked over.
The hand in is fur is the best thing he’s felt in this or any lifetime. He lets himself quiet for a moment, lets himself be soothed because even with all his own surging frustrations is the overwhelming sense of relief.
Cera is alive.
That truth comes to life within him and takes over, stronger than the thrum of his own wretched heart. Cera the Funny, Cera the Sweet, Cera the Good, Cera the Living. Cera the Living! It would never have made sense if Mercutio had survived the tearing of the world and Cera had not. In what reality could that have been justified? It was the sunny one who deserved a chance to live and thrive and be happy. And here he is, through starscapes and lifetimes, Cera is here.
Mercutio pushes himself into a sitting position, plastering his side against Cera and lets himself lean. With a great doggy sigh, he lets himself take in his scent again, letting it be a comfort and not a torment. And it is a ‘letting’; a surrender for a while to all the emotion he’s kept shoved deep down where he can pretend to ignore it all. There’s a soft thump on the ground as his fluffy tail gives a first heavy wag and even that is too much admission for Mercutio to handle. He hides his face, burying the massive grey head into to crook of Cera’s neck. There’s another little whine even as his tail gives another couple little thumps. He'd never been so happy to be so completely fucked over.
Mercutio
go take this the wrong way
you knew who I was
with every step that I ran to you
you knew who I was
with every step that I ran to you
