Come up. Here. Careful now. [Disregard only temporary (Leto's already moved and reopened his injuries once, so what harm is there in twice—) when it's for the sake of sliding out from underneath him, pulling open the nightstand drawer. The very same (infamous) drawer where they keep salves, ointments, bandages, binds— and the clink of what scarce few phials of lilac oil remain from his once-abundant stores.
Lean lines. Strong muscle. Corded contours over an athletic, lithe young frame. That's what Leto is reduced to in his lap while sharp claws winnow through his hair.
Opposite hand taking deft turns pulling strips of gauze from the roll and tearing it between his teeth.]
It does help, in a way. [His performative amusement might be pristine, but the longer time ticks on repeating the subtle back and forth of shredding gauze in preparation, the more true it all becomes: overstimulation washing away bit by steady bit.] Probably why my kind favors action above all else. [Like those skirmishes of theirs. Like the fights they found in Kirkwall. Like scuffling instead of grieving. Like—
Ah, like drinking into numbness. Like rutting. Like bleeding till you can't see straight.]
When self-control shatters, anything is better than stillness.
[One exhale through his nose, resting the first salve-soaked bandage against a deep-gouged line.]
no subject
[Wink and also wink.]
Come up. Here. Careful now. [Disregard only temporary (Leto's already moved and reopened his injuries once, so what harm is there in twice—) when it's for the sake of sliding out from underneath him, pulling open the nightstand drawer. The very same (infamous) drawer where they keep salves, ointments, bandages, binds— and the clink of what scarce few phials of lilac oil remain from his once-abundant stores.
Lean lines. Strong muscle. Corded contours over an athletic, lithe young frame. That's what Leto is reduced to in his lap while sharp claws winnow through his hair.
Opposite hand taking deft turns pulling strips of gauze from the roll and tearing it between his teeth.]
It does help, in a way. [His performative amusement might be pristine, but the longer time ticks on repeating the subtle back and forth of shredding gauze in preparation, the more true it all becomes: overstimulation washing away bit by steady bit.] Probably why my kind favors action above all else. [Like those skirmishes of theirs. Like the fights they found in Kirkwall. Like scuffling instead of grieving. Like—
Ah, like drinking into numbness. Like rutting. Like bleeding till you can't see straight.]
When self-control shatters, anything is better than stillness.
[One exhale through his nose, resting the first salve-soaked bandage against a deep-gouged line.]
And anything is better than mangling you....
[Well.]
....more.