holds both of his hands. kisses. [deathblessing]
the gesture was foreign, but its kindness was not lost to him. it was something that thresh felt wholly unworthy of, though he knew well to hold his tongue around karthus.
what the gentle lich saw in him was a mystery.
his hawkish gaze remained fixated upon their hands, his large, gauntleted hands enveloped karthus’ delicate fingers. how careful he was around the deathsinger, hardly the same MONSTER that others fear. around him, he is less the warden and more of lorne.
he lets out a soft sigh of content— green smoke billows from between that jagged maw of black teeth. he could never be used to those kisses, or karthus’ gestures of affection. carefully, he rubs his thumb over the lich’s hand, his intense gaze flickers upwards, to meet karthus’ eyes.
“ i have missed you, karthus.”