❝ Don’t look at me like that. ❞ for axis from mal
The final day of their journey dawned (they were, for Axis' standards, late), and Axis had been insufferable. A low, constant thunder of a presence, he'd spent the last days hours steaming with a particular tension that rolled off him in waves, his greyish skin seeming to tighten over coiled muscle.
"Then stop acting like you have" he spat, annoyed. Well, wasn't that rich out of him? Considering that, likely, if Mal had been chatty, he'd be complaining too?
But why was this growing increasingly difficult? What was this stupid, crawling itch under his skin that this mortal's every breath seemed to aggravate? Why wasn't the quiet bringing the peace he knew?
The trees here were ancient, their bark silver-white and smooth as bone, and their branches formed arched bridges, woven together into a natural tunnel that led deeper into a light that did not seem to come from the sun.
The place, though beautiful, felt dead. There were no leaves. And it wasn't exactly what one would expect when so close to the heart of a powerful tree.
Axis stopped at the mouth of this strange living tunnel, his own irritation momentarily silenced. He didn't need to say it. The look he finally gave Mal was different, most of the prior annoyance stripped away, leaving only a grim intensity.
Heartroot. Or it was supposed to be.