[ She turns, and he works the cord into place; metal bracing defter finger. A bang slips free, and his hand brushes neck. Warmth, skin for skin, and Cedric draws back. Slight. Apologetic. ]
Y'look, [ A breath in. Heady on tea and summer jasmine, and the leaf tangled stubborn into curl. She looks exactly how she always does. She looks, ] Beautiful.
[ It's the wrong time to say it. Always the wrong time, but worse now: Half-armored, a forceful thing, and behind him all the evidence of war. Of a frightful purpose. Gela doesn't often pass the yard, didn't fight; has never spied his sword bloody. His palms.
Unsafe.
But his hand is empty. But his face, throat are bared. But there's that notch in her ear; the scars that his eyes have traced time and again in silent question, and just now he is so tired of smallness. What's the point of a shield, if it only shelters you?
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Y'look, [ A breath in. Heady on tea and summer jasmine, and the leaf tangled stubborn into curl. She looks exactly how she always does. She looks, ] Beautiful.
[ It's the wrong time to say it. Always the wrong time, but worse now: Half-armored, a forceful thing, and behind him all the evidence of war. Of a frightful purpose. Gela doesn't often pass the yard, didn't fight; has never spied his sword bloody. His palms.
Unsafe.
But his hand is empty. But his face, throat are bared. But there's that notch in her ear; the scars that his eyes have traced time and again in silent question, and just now he is so tired of smallness. What's the point of a shield, if it only shelters you?
He reaches for the leaf. Soft, ]
Is that alright?