responding to x
@mortumm
"And thy pause is telling,” he answers.
He feels no regret in what he hath said. Roland is borne of the very Truth which keeps in the clay of the earth, the crackling of the fire, and the sway of the wind in the trees. There is no room for a lie in that breeze, no pretty deterrent to save face. Roland lounges in the rickety, wool-scratchy sofa pressed against a thin wall in their shared room, spread out along its cushions with both arms threaded as a pillow ‘neath his head. He looks at Zevran openly.
“I do not expect a declaration of thy heart’s song,” he says, to complete his thought, and he shrugs his shoulders. ““Twould be selfish to ask of thee, I know this. But I felt, and feel, that I should hath voiced my truest opinion of thee. I am very fond of you, Zevran.” He smiles, wide enough to crease his face. “My heart is large.”
