intimacy + 18,80,125, plus one of your choice!
By habit, Alric doesn’t let his hair grow long, save for out of forgetfulness. If the bangs are long enough to get into his eyes, he cuts it or ties it back, but now he remembers the lazy afternoon of convalescence in the Repose, two friends enjoying each others’ company. Her toying with the braid of hair he’d let remain after she’d complimented it, him too far adrift in the laudanum-induced haze of painkillers to be self-conscious of it. He never cuts it too short anymore, always mindful of leaving enough for her to play with.
80 looking in each other’s eyes
Eye contact isn’t one of Alric’s strongest suits. He never wanted to be seen, recoiled from the tacit acknowledgement that he was interacting with someone more than was strictly necessary. He doesn’t remember the first time he looked her in the eyes -- a passing glimpse, he’s sure, a momentary glint of brilliant ice as she turns her head, perhaps a glance stolen when she tilts her head in laughter, but that hardly counts. There’s a level of vulnerability he’s not eager to concede, when it comes to meeting someone’s gaze, a sensation of allowing the observer to take his measure and apprehension towards the conclusion they might draw, but he remembers staring up at her face, silhouetted against the night sky and lined with worry, how there was no room or time for anything but unvarnished honesty between them, and quiet confessions made in those twilight hours. She knows him, she knows his mind; it’s safe to let her see him, mask after mask peeled aside. It’s a singular privilege.
111 learning something new together
It is rare that their interests and expertise coincide, and often they take things in turn, one the teacher and one the student. But there is a joy in learning together, in unearthing new knowledge and deciphering it together, a lifetime of practical experience working in tandem with a compendium of miscellaneous memorized esoteries. Their minds travel in different trajectories, one with unerring linearity, the other with meandering circuitousness -- but the moments where they intersect are pleasures to be savored.
125 talking about each other’s bodies
Giving and receiving compliments on physical aesthetic is an art in which he is ill-practiced. He fumbles through a mental thesaurus oftentimes, wringing his hands with the worry the words he uses are ill-chosen, too often repeated, trite or poorly conveyed. But there’s a nonverbal component to it he’s gradually begun to decipher, a shared language of touch between them -- the resting of fingertips, feather-light, a fondness and faint concern; the brush of foreknuckle over skin, tenderness, appreciation, affirmation; the soft rake of nail on scalp as fingers glide through hair, affection, possessiveness, want. It’s not a conscious system of language, moreso a series of impressions guided by the instinct that familiarity breeds, and he learns more of it, slowly and steadily each passing day spent in her company.
blakekathryn
stormborns
kianamaiart
2087
germansingergirl
