“Yeah, of course. As much as I can. Wouldn’t leave you blind.” Not when Kel would feel the strangeness even more keenly than Rance had. Would see the way color had seemingly been leached from the plant life and ache for them, even if they weren’t his trees to worry about. Even the promise of relaying those stories to his friend heralded so strongly back to their shared past that it felt like something unknotted in his chest.
When Kel pulled away, Rance was reluctant to let him go. Would he vanish again if he did? Would Rance wake, alone in his room at the bar, with all of this having been a dream? He loosened his embrace, letting Kel go, though a part of him was ready to lunge forward should it look like Kel might disappear. It was that fear which kept his gaze on his friend and not -- for once -- the sight of his naked body. Only when Kel began collecting his clothing, bending over and revealing angles that a friend shouldn’t be staring at did he lift his eyes up. His gaze landed on the cloud mantas, though this time he barely paid them much real attention.
Kel had been scared of the portals? Had he found no one to reassure him of their safety? No reason to explore the lands beyond? Then again, compared to Torchline, all the other lands might seem like bizarre hellscapes to the natives. And Kel sounded so shaken -- how much of that was because of fear, and how much from the emotion of their meeting?
If only Rance had stayed in Torchline a bit longer. Explored the port, or the forest. He and Kel might have met so much sooner. Instead, he was left with the ache of regret as Kel confirmed that he’d been at the festival and asked if Rance had as well. Gaze still on the mantas, one hand plucking absently at his wet shirt, he replied, “Yeah. I... made a lantern for Morgana. In case the candle I lit wasn’t enough to reach her.” Of course, there was a good chance that nothing he did would reach her spirit again, but the candle and the lantern had at least soothed his own heart a bit.
When Kel pulled away, Rance was reluctant to let him go. Would he vanish again if he did? Would Rance wake, alone in his room at the bar, with all of this having been a dream? He loosened his embrace, letting Kel go, though a part of him was ready to lunge forward should it look like Kel might disappear. It was that fear which kept his gaze on his friend and not -- for once -- the sight of his naked body. Only when Kel began collecting his clothing, bending over and revealing angles that a friend shouldn’t be staring at did he lift his eyes up. His gaze landed on the cloud mantas, though this time he barely paid them much real attention.
Kel had been scared of the portals? Had he found no one to reassure him of their safety? No reason to explore the lands beyond? Then again, compared to Torchline, all the other lands might seem like bizarre hellscapes to the natives. And Kel sounded so shaken -- how much of that was because of fear, and how much from the emotion of their meeting?
If only Rance had stayed in Torchline a bit longer. Explored the port, or the forest. He and Kel might have met so much sooner. Instead, he was left with the ache of regret as Kel confirmed that he’d been at the festival and asked if Rance had as well. Gaze still on the mantas, one hand plucking absently at his wet shirt, he replied, “Yeah. I... made a lantern for Morgana. In case the candle I lit wasn’t enough to reach her.” Of course, there was a good chance that nothing he did would reach her spirit again, but the candle and the lantern had at least soothed his own heart a bit.
