[His scoff is disbelieving, the corners of his mouth curved upright. Altogether lighter than a feather— or at least lighter than all the thoughts that are running through his mind when he tentatively moves to touch that blade instead.]
Better than all right.
[He sits down on the bed, shoulder-to-shoulder once slow pressure settles in, Ataashi and the little runts having been ushered off into space that better suits them, making it a sort of ebbing-fade compared to the calm inside their shared bubble right now. Pale fingers skirting over pale blue light.] ....scratches and mud included.
[Wistfulness borders on absence; he's not less of himself, just....
Less here.
Less aware of himself, rare a treat as it is.]
Funny, it's been so long since I smelled you again. [Leto— and lyrium. Thedas and Toril, now. Less the imprint of Danarius rather than an anchor, at least to the creature that hadn't been born into screaming over the scent of molten magic. Privileged like that, yes, but he supposes it's no different than his eyes. His fangs.
Whatever he looked like before Cazador laid hands on him, Leto wouldn't recognize.]
no subject
Better than all right.
[He sits down on the bed, shoulder-to-shoulder once slow pressure settles in, Ataashi and the little runts having been ushered off into space that better suits them, making it a sort of ebbing-fade compared to the calm inside their shared bubble right now. Pale fingers skirting over pale blue light.] ....scratches and mud included.
[Wistfulness borders on absence; he's not less of himself, just....
Less here.
Less aware of himself, rare a treat as it is.]
Funny, it's been so long since I smelled you again. [Leto— and lyrium. Thedas and Toril, now. Less the imprint of Danarius rather than an anchor, at least to the creature that hadn't been born into screaming over the scent of molten magic. Privileged like that, yes, but he supposes it's no different than his eyes. His fangs.
Whatever he looked like before Cazador laid hands on him, Leto wouldn't recognize.]