Cera cannot tear his eyes from the man and his rugged, beautiful face. The crackle of his marble-silver eyes, like gossamer threads. Clearly he has some form of sight for how he pinpoints Cera's face so easily, but Cera is as taken by his features as he is the self-conscious shrug of his shoulders, the fawnlike shy smile on his lips. Perhaps it is their similar souls calling out to the golden man, but it puts him at ease, loosens his tongue and his body in turn. His own smile trickles like water from there, passage eased with comfort as time goes by without negative consequences for his imposition.
"I'm sure nobody would complain if you did, they're quite the sight to behold," he assures, legs splaying out in the grass to shift to a more comfortable position. Cera ponders on the shyness, the reclusiveness of the Attuned man. Is it self-imposed? Trauma? A genetic trait of introversion inherited and unquestioned? Perhaps he is being too bold then, and so he presses his tongue to the roof of his mouth and says no more. He'd not want to compliment the man into a tizzy after all. It wouldn't be the first time - many men took offense at Cera's...appreciation of them. For whatever reason.
His ease dissipates like clouds beneath the sun as Remi's smile turns bitter, a subtle change that tinges the edges of his lips with pressure and pain that Cera can read like the change of the wind. Frowning softly as words follow and confirm his suspicions, Cera rises to his knees and moves closer, drawn like a moth to the flame of Remi's anguish. He does not move too close - enough to touch if either party desired, but not enough to press into Remi's personal space. While the man turns his sea-glass eyes to the sky, Cera cannot look away from his face and the emotions that play over it like light through the ocean's waters. Shifting, ephemeral, beautiful, and easy to be drawn into despite the threat of drowning.
Whether it is sympathy or empathy, Cera can't muddle through the details of the hurt that lances through his breast at the revelation Remi shares so freely. He has lost so many loved ones, many he had intended to give his heart to, and though Cera was seemingly cursed to never have reciprocated feelings for another it is a tragedy he can hardly stomach to hear. Without being able to help himself, and scarcely thinking of the action, his hand reaches forward to try and alight on Remi's nearest shoulder. Leans forward, golden hair falling from behind his ears to frame his glassy eyes.
"There aren't words in this language to express how sorry I am to hear that," he speaks softly in the space between them, a phrase only for Remi's ears, to be swallowed by the beautiful scenery around them. It gives him strength, the power to shoulder the weight of such grief and to open his heart to accept it and mourn alongside. There is so little to say. Nothing, even. Perhaps that was what Remi had been searching for in the glade. Silence, freedom from the stifling knowledge of impending death that he is helpless to stop. Cera knows little of the Blight, only secondhand knowledge from the Medical College and Phoebe's passing comments, but he knows the odds are slim and daunting.
Calloused hand drops to Remi's forearm, needing to touch. Keep open the link it gives him, the natural ease it brings Cera. "I have been where you are, and there is nothing I can say - as a stranger at that - to bring you any comfort. But is there anything I can do?" Kind emerald eyes flicker over Remi's face, cataloging the boyish charm and structure of his features at such a closeness. "It would be presumptuous to assume I can take your mind off it, but if that's what you need I will try my hardest. And though the Gods here are not my own, I hope you will accept my prayers that a solution will be found." A gentle squeeze of his fingers, and he rocks back onto his knees, withdrawing his hands once more to his lap.
"I'm sure nobody would complain if you did, they're quite the sight to behold," he assures, legs splaying out in the grass to shift to a more comfortable position. Cera ponders on the shyness, the reclusiveness of the Attuned man. Is it self-imposed? Trauma? A genetic trait of introversion inherited and unquestioned? Perhaps he is being too bold then, and so he presses his tongue to the roof of his mouth and says no more. He'd not want to compliment the man into a tizzy after all. It wouldn't be the first time - many men took offense at Cera's...appreciation of them. For whatever reason.
His ease dissipates like clouds beneath the sun as Remi's smile turns bitter, a subtle change that tinges the edges of his lips with pressure and pain that Cera can read like the change of the wind. Frowning softly as words follow and confirm his suspicions, Cera rises to his knees and moves closer, drawn like a moth to the flame of Remi's anguish. He does not move too close - enough to touch if either party desired, but not enough to press into Remi's personal space. While the man turns his sea-glass eyes to the sky, Cera cannot look away from his face and the emotions that play over it like light through the ocean's waters. Shifting, ephemeral, beautiful, and easy to be drawn into despite the threat of drowning.
Whether it is sympathy or empathy, Cera can't muddle through the details of the hurt that lances through his breast at the revelation Remi shares so freely. He has lost so many loved ones, many he had intended to give his heart to, and though Cera was seemingly cursed to never have reciprocated feelings for another it is a tragedy he can hardly stomach to hear. Without being able to help himself, and scarcely thinking of the action, his hand reaches forward to try and alight on Remi's nearest shoulder. Leans forward, golden hair falling from behind his ears to frame his glassy eyes.
"There aren't words in this language to express how sorry I am to hear that," he speaks softly in the space between them, a phrase only for Remi's ears, to be swallowed by the beautiful scenery around them. It gives him strength, the power to shoulder the weight of such grief and to open his heart to accept it and mourn alongside. There is so little to say. Nothing, even. Perhaps that was what Remi had been searching for in the glade. Silence, freedom from the stifling knowledge of impending death that he is helpless to stop. Cera knows little of the Blight, only secondhand knowledge from the Medical College and Phoebe's passing comments, but he knows the odds are slim and daunting.
Calloused hand drops to Remi's forearm, needing to touch. Keep open the link it gives him, the natural ease it brings Cera. "I have been where you are, and there is nothing I can say - as a stranger at that - to bring you any comfort. But is there anything I can do?" Kind emerald eyes flicker over Remi's face, cataloging the boyish charm and structure of his features at such a closeness. "It would be presumptuous to assume I can take your mind off it, but if that's what you need I will try my hardest. And though the Gods here are not my own, I hope you will accept my prayers that a solution will be found." A gentle squeeze of his fingers, and he rocks back onto his knees, withdrawing his hands once more to his lap.
and my hands are not clean, maybe they never will be
but they can still carry you home
when you're ready to sleep
but they can still carry you home
when you're ready to sleep
