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@tothedevilsshow
THIS BLOG HERE IS A SEMI PRIVATE BLOG. I AM SO SLOW. I DON'T ALWAYS FOLLOW BACK. DNI IF YOU'RE GONNA BE VERY OFFENDED BY SLOWNESS. LMAO I'M 300. I HAVE MUSES FROM VARIOUS FANDOMS. IF YOU WANNA CHECK 'EM OUT. YEAH, THAT'S ABOUT IT, YO. ---- LINKS - RULES & MUSES & OCS
daeron had come to them on their way to the north. he was anticipating the work and trails that the iced north would give them. another targaryen prince was not on the list of those troubles. especially not one that travelled with some more pomp than what he was going for. he did not want to be noticed. he had meant to scold him, tell him that he was not welcome to come with them to the north. and even though egg had been happy to see him he didn't think it was good for a boy to get everything that he wanted.
but there was something heavy about daeron. heavier than usual. it was not his usual self either. there was something more to it. but he did not want to waste the precious time they had to get to the north dealing with these troubles. he didn't want to go to the north in the middle of winter. "listen..." he starts once he's standing in front of him. feeling the weight of the man's eyes already. "you can't come with us. you should be on your way. you wouldn't like the work we do anyways." - @acoterie
the world had changed over again. and his position was different although it felt somehow the same. the years had swept through them both quickly and slowly. he didn't think that he would ever be here, it was an impossible thing to imagine. and yet here he was, here he was serving egg as king, serving as the head of his kingsguard. there were so many troubles with it. people who wanted to get close, too close, dangerously close. he feels a heaviness inside of him. wanting to protect, to know every problem. he couldn't be distracted.
he was not distracted. selma was - a friend? no, he knew the connection ran deeper. but they seemed to dance around each other as if unsure if they knew where to land. maybe this caution is what made him trust her a little more easily. but this caution also makes him question vows where he shouldn't. makes him explain his absence for three weeks. "there's been rumors around the keep. a spy." he says warily, shaking his head. "the king thinks they want him dead." - @acoterie
watching him for a moment she wasn't sure exactly what to do. he always seemed a little lost, didn't he? like he was on the edge or something terrible. it was hard not to feel her heart soften towards him. it was hard to not want to sit there next to him, wanting to feel the warmth of him there. he wasn't as bad today. or was that false hope. sometimes she felt as if she were convincing herself of these things.
she had come here with her father for something that had nothing at all to do with the prince, had it? she knew that she could not allow herself to get distracted. he was after all a prince, married to a lady that she rarely saw. her eyes searched the side of his face, trying to find something that she's not sure what. only that she aches when she looks at him, for the state that he's in? for him? the thought startles her that she has to look away from him.
"it's cold. you should come back inside." @acoterie
"you told me that you'd tell me why we should trust him. i don't want you to think that i'm talking down to you -- it's not like... i trust your judgement." - adolin to renarin
He doesn't know why it is that he feels so offended by what he says. He had thought that his brother would have trusted him, that he would have stayed by his side in spite of whatever had happened and would happen. Adolin had only just arrived and, even though things had been running as smooth as they could, he still cast an uncertain eye on him and Rlain. It wasn't fair and Renarin had made that well known, had even dropped a statement of how Shallan had trusted Rlain and maybe that meant that Renarin's own brother should do the same. Rlain had made the case that it was understandable but Renarin was sure that was only because he seemed used to whatever critical eye looked his way.
"Do you really?" He questioned as he shook his head and then lowered his eyes down to the pile of papers there in front of him. There was so much to do and so many factions simply to keep Urithiru running. "I know that you trust me." He offered finally as he steeled himself and looked up at his brother again, his hands folding as he set aside the pen that he had been using. "I know that this doesn't have anything to do with me. We both know that." Although, sometimes Adolin managed to make him feel like a little kid, he understood that this wasn't the case now. "This is about Rlain, isn't it? You should know that he saved me and that he's done a lot for the people here ever since Navani has been…" he swallowed thickly and then returned his gaze down to the papers. "…that's the first thing you should know about him."
@tothedevilsshow
of course he knew all of this. how many times had renarin let him know all of this. without any added details, it was in itself something that should be trusted. there's some edge of guilt inside of him at the thought. the feeling chokes in him. could he trust him? that was the question that kept coming up the more that he listened to him. in spite of everything could he trust him? he really wanted to trust him, more than anything. he wanted to tell him that he did. he knew how much it would mean to renarin.
"i know that you're not wrong about him." he finally decides on saying it like that. even though he knew that wasn't what his brother wanted to hear from him. he reaches over and sets his hand on his shoulder as if he's trying to assure him of something. but he knows already that he's said the wrong thing to him. he presses his shoulder, his eyes softening a little as he looks down at him. was he trying to protect him? or was he trying to protect the sentiments of the people around here? he swallows harshly. "bring him around. we should get to know each other." he adds as if he could possibly soften the things that he had said earlier.
"the worst thing is i don't even know where to start. every lead seems to turn up a dead end." - adolin to kaladin
There was a dark feeling that rose up in his chest because it was true. There were no leads in front of them seeing as each one that they had investigated had turned up empty. When they had left Urithiru they had been warned that they would have to come back permanently. They needed them and they couldn't waste further resources on a wild hunt that hadn't ever come up fruitful. Dalinar had told them in private that Shallan was gone and that the months that had gone by searching for her were far too many. Both Kaladin and Adolin and railed against the idea of abandoning their search but he hadn't budged. They were needed here, no matter what.
Turning his gaze to Adolin he a gave a small grunt of agreement. There were too many dead ends and he wasn't sure how to sift through them all over again. Did they have the strength to? The boldness to? The faith? It felt like hope had died when the last five leads had blown away from them. "So what do we do?" He questioned with a light furrow of his brows as he turned away from Adolin to look out into the night that surrounded them outside of their meager hut. He reached his hand out to grip Adolin's shoulder and knead back of his neck gently. "Maybe we shouldn't…" he paused and then shook his head. He didn't give up, wasn't that something that was known about him? "…We could backtrack? Or we could…track down one more lead?"
@tothedevilsshow
he's starting to feel more and more hopeless. it helps to have kaladin there, it helps knowing that he hadn't lost him as well. but there's a gaping hole where shallan used to be, in everything that he does it seems to exist there, growing larger and larger as the time passes. he lets out a quiet breath at the feel of his hand. a small comfort in the touch. slowly he lifts his eyes to his face. the weight of loss has taken it's toll on them both, every day renewed. how much longer could they go on this way? would he just have to admit that she was gone?
"one more lead." he says with a small nod of his head. because he can't say that he's going to give up on her. he can't say that this is the end of the line. he wants nothing more than for the three of them to be complete again. it seemed to preoccupy his thoughts constantly. the need for her would never go away. he reaches his hand up and presses it over his hand. "....we can follow that last. and we can see...who knows -" his voice is low, a little bit shaky. a glaze has come to his eyes. but he does his best to not let tears fall. "-- this might be the time we actually find her."
"how long has it been? i can't figure but what happened. everything must've been different for you - i'm sorry. i've been trying to figure out a million different things i'd say to you in this moment and now i can't get anything right." - adolin to shallan
She didn't know how to look at him now and not feel that heart centered ache that rose up in her whenever she met his eyes. Did he notice it? Was there a chance for something to come together between them and mend what had splintered along the way? She wasn't sure how long it had been since they had been together, at least not here in the Physical Realm. What she did know was that the amount of time in Shadesmar didn't seem as long as it had out here. Out here it was a whole real world and Shallan felt burdened by the idea, by the feeling, by the knowing that when she had been trapped there she had lost everything that she had once had and with it suddenly made every ounce of her happiness spin away from her.
"You don't have to say anything." She told him as she turned away from him to instead look towards the small bed where their son laid. She had taken pleasure in the thought that their son looked like him but now it seemed a thorn in her side. Her powers were faulty of late and her thought to continue at least some of her sketches had begun to fail her ever since she had found a way out of Shadesmar. It had been too long, a whole lifetime perhaps, while she remained stagnant in the past that no longer belonged to her. She finally turned her eyes back to him. "I'm actually pretty sure that there isn't much to say at all anyways, right? Aside from you telling me how things have been for you out here?"
@tothedevilsshow
there was just so much to say, wasn't there? about what had happened while she was gone. some of it was good news, the rebuilding of the world, the newly found peace although on shaky ground it was something that they worked on and towards, something that he was starting to believe in in spite of his reluctance. and yet there was also the bad, what had happened to kaladin, his father, - he feels a twist inside of him. something tightly wound that he can't seem to shake off. he hesitates on where he should start.
mostly he wants to be glad she's back. how many times had he wanted to take her in his arms, shower her with kisses. but he's kept his distance. even from the boy, his son. he had a son. and yet some years had passed. how much time had he missed? how much could he never get back? and what did he tell her of his home? of the marriage? how long had he mourned her before he had agreed finally to do it? he lowers his eyes, trying to find the right worlds to say to her. "do you know? about kal?" it's the first words that come out. it feels like a terrible way to start. but it's there in the quiet tension of the room.
"it's been an entire night, the men are starting to look at me like i can't get a handle on things. won't you at least let me inside?" - dutiful to elliania
She heard his voice through the tents thick material and she nearly ignored it. She knew that it was snowing outside but they had a rather nice fire built and she was certain that no one had let Dutiful out of Buckkeep without all of the necessities that would keep him alive. But he wasn't chattering his teeth and he wasn't claiming that the game wasn't good. No, he was talking about the respect that he was receiving from his men. She supposed that this made sense. While the typical routines and traditions of the Six Duchies still made little sense ot her, she could understand respect.
Begrudgingly, she rose from the thick blankets, pulled a fur one about her shoulders and tugged open the tent opening. Her eyes were blank as she stared at him, her hands clutching the furs about her shoulders. "Come in then." She offered but without any sort of invitation or pleasantries. "And don't make too much noise. I'm tired and I ride at first light."
@tothedevilsshow
finally she allowed him in. and he could not help the grateful breath he lets out once the flap falls shut behind him. it is decidedly warmer now. but he refrains from rubbing his hands together or even wrapping his arms around himself. he stands straight, with his head up. a hint of a smile on his face as he regards her. was she getting some sick enjoyment out of this? she seemed to think that testing him in all areas was the best thing to do. he feels the weight of trying to please her and all the others out there constantly. a tug of war. some of the other dukes might wonder which of them held the real power. let them see him be admitted, sleep here, and if he were up before her he could divert the whole disaster entirely.
"i understand your need to move quickly." he says, making his way further into the tent. she has a small fire there to warm the area. and he stands by it, his back to her for what felt like an eternity. he turns to look at her over his shoulder. "the king cannot be seen to be undermined."
"it feels easier to not have to sleep alone at night. but do you feel it, too? like i have to feel guilty about it....sometimes i wish that it wasn't like that. is that horrible?"
The words that she speaks into the dark rings against the guilt that felt like a coil there in his belly. He doesn't turn to look at her, he simply continued to watch the hearth to lick shadows across the wall. The smoke smelled calming, some herbs must have been sprinkled across the logs since the scent of them rose in the air with calmness. That was so like her. Somehow that felt too much like an intimate detail that he felt like he shouldn't be thinking that. There is a familiar thread of guilt connecting them where he'd rather there be something else entirely. Two people completely alone here, two people that were respectively shadow and outsider. It was a terrible weight to carry on their shoulders and it carried over here, in her rooms, where he felt even more ghost than anything. Was that fair? He supposed that it was not fair, not truly, but he did have to wonder. How much of that night did she know? How much of that night did she cling to when she clung to him? Certainly sometimes memories poured into her mind and she would prefer those to anything that had brought them together now? Thickly he swallowed and finally turned to look at her, his hand coming out to rest warmly on her belly. Her skin is light here in the dimness of her rooms and it contrasts against his own. She clearly was not of Buck and she clearly was not of his family. Outsider. So that solidified him as a shadow. Was that what she felt now when she felt his touch? "Having to sleep alone at night is terrible." he said and he knew that they both spoke from experience. That was how this had happened. Comfort. Isolation. Loneliness. Hurt. Abandonment. She had been left for stone and victory, he had been left for a memory, he had been left to a future that was meant to spread out wide before him and, yet, instead it had locked around him tightly. As tightly as it always had. His hand rose from her belly and his fingers created a path up towards her neck until he was twirling her mussed hair around his fingers. "I don't think that anything you could say could be horrible." He almost breathed the deferential title but that seemed oddly placed here. "Don't even think that. Not of yourself. Not ever." @tothedevilsshow
his touch calms her. soft, in spite of the torrent of emotion that seemed to tug at her it was soft. it seemed to ease the tense set of her shoulders. she draws in a breath and lets it out shakily. her eyes move over his face. so real and alive there before her, alive after everything. she wondered, not bitterly but why some people made it out while others did not. she wondered a great deal about what she was doing here in this room, in this bed, with him. did that mean that she regretted any of this? did the truthful answer to that make her a horrible person? fitz's answer seems to respond to that thought as well. she wants to thank him for it. but she can't seem to. the thought of that only brings a sheen of tears to her eyes and she has to look away. to the dim light, casting shadows on the wall. pale ones. and they feel unnerving, don't they? like an audience to what they did. and yet she knows that they have committed no crime in finding comfort in each other.
she reaches up then to settle her hand around his wrist. pressing the side of her face against the warmth of his calloused palm. she doesn't want to cry. but when she blinks her tears fall freely. "fitz...." she says his name softly, in just a whisper as she looks at him. wondering what words she might say to him next. knowing none that could ease the tight knot that's in her chest when she looks at him. she swallows harshly, a thickness in her throat as she looks at him for a long moment. she doesn't know what to say. she hates the long stretch of silence after his name. her eyes hold his. "..then do you wish it, too?" her voice is so soft, barely even a whisper in the quiet of the room. a heavy question. she slowly lets go of his hand. she presses her fingers to his mouth then so that he won't answer it. "you don't have to answer that."
"out of everyone i thought that maybe you had decided it was foolish to lie to me. the worst part is that i don't think you ever thought to tell me." - dutiful
This was not what he had expected when he had agreed to do this. He had thought that they would just return to the beach to see what they could find, mark the Skill Pillar there, and investigate how - and why - the beach, or whatever was on it, knew about Elliania and Dutiful. It seemed quite a strange and oddly specific thing to have turned up on the beach. Not to mention the path of wooden feathers that Fitz had found on that same beach. It had left him feeling vaguely imposed on, as though someone had invaded him after he had fled that voice that had comforted him away from the Skill stream that had nearly trapped him inside of it. He hadn't wanted to return but he didn't trust Chade to go there on his own and Thick was hardly of sound mind enough to rummage about on the beach with Dutiful. Fitz could only ever really trust himself and so he had agreed, landing on the beach was easy enough but coming out of the haze was something else entirely. Yet none of this, the plan, the beach, the treasures - none of that was compared to the surprise that filled him when he heard Dutiful's words. A thick feeling crawled through his throat and he closed his eyes. Who had told him? Who could have told him? He did not think that Kettricken would have dashed over the image of Verity in his mind. He did not think that Chade would have disrupted the bloodline by imparting that information onto him. Fitz also didn't think that his own mind Walls were lowered enough ever that something like that would have seeped out from him. He slowly turned to face Dutiful with a drawn expression. He didn't know what to tell him, he wasn't sure what to say. He just stared for the longest time, trying desperately not to find the lines of himself in Dutiful's face. A slow breath shakily parted from him and he looked away. "It wasn't my truth to give." He answered simply because even though it had been done with his body, as was most of his life, that secret did not belong to him. "No one lied to you, Dutiful. We simply…knew that it was better for you not to know." He hesitated briefly and lowered his pack to the ground. They weren't far from the beach. "A King-In-Waiting must always look towards the king before him for inspiration. That couldn't be taken away from you." @tothedevilsshow
confusion passes over him, furrowing his brows as e regards him. he shouldn't have brought it up yet. there was still much to be learned on this island. still much that did not make any sense, things that unnerved him the more and more he thought about it. even if it felt almost welcoming to come here, almost safe. he was disorientated and undone. but mostly he wanted answers, a bitterness forming inside of him that there was no doubt yet another secret harboring there between fitz and his mother. his answer had not been aligned with the question he was meaning to ask. unless he meant - no, but he didn't think that his mother would have ever done such a thing. she was always one for truth and honesty. she had taught him those ways.
"what would my father's legacy have to do with you and my mother..." his voice sounds almost sneering. there's a heaviness in him as he looks at him. he doesn't know which word to push out. everything feels as if it's teetering on the edge of something. he takes a step forward as if that would help with the unsteady feeling. "...sneaking around." he says it as if it's something dirty. and it almost feels that way, doesn't it? it almost feels like he's been betrayed by the both of them.
He doesn't know why this moment hurts more than it should. It feels a little broken up inside of him and he wants to look into Carl's eyes to see that maybe this was giving him something. Maybe some semblance of the old world. Did he even remember any of that? It's a wonder that maybe he would. Just the big things, probably. He could imagine that the world as it was now probably overshadowed everything else. And Lori? Did he remember her as the mother that she had been?
There were a dozen things that Rick remembered just in this moment here. He could remember the way that Carl used to run his hand through the wind outside his window, he could remember how Lori used to hum the radio hits to Carl when he was fussy at night. There were moments that he caught sight of during the most silent of nights. The ones where Carl smiled for the first time or when he looked at him with those blue eyes of his and asked him if he wanted to go to a park.
All of those memories refused to give him a feeling of peace. Instead all of it filled him with an ache that he couldn't get over. It reminded him of the world as it had been, the one that had died when he had woken up from that coma. Did Carl even realize how tightly he held onto those memories? Those bits and pieces that had existed far too long ago?
Carl was a man now. He was almost as tall as him and he treated Judith like she was so much younger than him. He was growing cold, he could see it in the color of his eyes. There were no questions there. There were simply staleness lingering in his eyes whenever he faced the world and Rick was sure that there wasn't a single thing that he could do to change that. He knew for sure that Carl wouldn't even remember when he hadn't been the morsel of a boy that looked at the world with curious innocence.
"Judy probably hates most mushy things but what's the difference between peas and mashed potatoes?" He questioned with a small smirk. "I think that we're going to have to find something else around here to give her then if you're so opposed to peas and all that."
he knows that this is what his dad wants. an easy conversation. something that has nothing to do with the world around them. something that isn't heavy or laden with how they'll survive. he knows that the darkness that eats at them slowly isn't one that his dad wants to linger in. and he knows why. it's not for himself, it's not just for judy. he knows that his dad wants to save him. something about that makes him feel sad. like he's doing something wrong. like he can't get something right.
he wouldn't say that out loud though. there are too many things that get attached to that thought. something that he wouldn't be able to shake. he knows that his dad would only feel guilty if he dragged all this up. he past making his dad feel bad about things. he doesn't blame. he wonders if he knows that. not for mom, not for the prison, not for any of it. he knows that it wasn't in his dad's hands.
mostly because he's not little anymore. he's too old now to think that his dad is in control of everything. he's too old now to think that his dad is the master of every single thing that happens. there's so much that happens that his dad can't control. realizing that had hurt. but now that he's older he knows better. he knows that that's not a load any single person can carry.
so, his dad is flawed, not superman. his dad is a man like anyone else. there's no more childish disappointment in that either. it's just a fact. something that he's sure every kid growing up has to deal with. and now that they sit here together there's a vicious part of him that says he has to protect him. he has to keep him safe. because really his dad is someone who is filled with so much hope. carl isn't sure if he's still hopeful. he just knows he wants them all to survive, to make it to the end. whatever that ending was.
he lets out a small laugh and shakes his head. he looks away from him, off towards judy then. "if we can find something. but i think for the moment we'll have to get used to peas. well, until what we planted outside grows."
He looked around and then down at her there clinging to his side. He liked the press of her, the reality that she was there with him. He liked knowing that she was with him and that whatever fate had befell her wasn't the one that stuck. She didn't deserve that, not even if he were to linger where they had been. But this place? It didn't seem like a place where they could remain.
"It doesn't seem peaceful." It really didn't. it seemed chaotic and unusual and messy. He took down a hard swallow and then reached his arm out to slip it around her shoulders, bringing her closer. Maybe they could stick as close together as they could, losing one another here seemed like something he'd rather die than do. "I'm sure that we'll figure it out." he paused and then he looked down at her. "You'll figure it out."
she turns to look at him then. taking in a breath as she watches him in the dark. her heart's filled with such a tender feeling that she can't seem to swallow down. she takes a step towards him. the cold ground beneath her feet, she's still burning and she can feel everything. especially him. him over everything. she doesn't want to think of anything else. she simply wants to be in this moment. but she knows, doesn't she? she knows that they have a whole world to consider.
she reaches her hand out and settles it on his chest. her eyes move over his face. a very slight smile comes to her face just then. slight. but lighting up her eyes. "we will." she corrects him. she does not think she could have done this without him. she wouldn't be here without him. he was her whole reason for pressing forward, for accepting what she was to the new world now. he had to see how important he was to her.
There's a deep feeling of regret inside of him as he hears Anakin and the persistent way he responds. He knows full well that he should have done something, anything to save Anakin from this state. Or maybe the others, like Mace, were right when they said that he had been too old. Anakin was already angry the moment that they had met him. How was Obi Wan to shift the way that he met the world? It filled him with regret however because he wanted to give Anakin the peace that he had experienced within the Order.
"You cannot let this rile you up." He stated as he reached his hand out to settle it calmly on Anakin's shoulder. His eyes softened as he looked at him. "I know it is a war and so does Master Yoda but, Anakin, you cannot let that overtake everything that you've learned since you were a boy. Those are the important lessons that we all must learn."
everything that he had learned since he was a boy? it was not what obi-wan wanted him to think of that came to his mind then. instead his mind is awash with darkness. with terrible things that he can't seem to untangle from himself. he tried hard. he really did try. he had tried so long to be the one that the jedi needed. the chosen one. the on that they needed to balance everything. a good jedi. and yet all he could think of was his mother, the loss, the pain, and most of all the rage.
"i was never taught the lessons of war." he says simply. as if that would explain everything. would obi-wan understand that? would master yoda? he didn't think so. they were good jedi, they followed the rules, never toeing any line. but he could never be as they were. he knew that. in spite of all his trying he was filled with an anger that never seemed to go away. "i was always told to forget. but i can't forget, obi-wan. i don't want to forget."
It's a question that's wild in her eyes. Does he really mean it? Will he really give her whatever it was that she wanted? She wanted to unearth parts of him that exist in the dark, she wanted to see layers that make him into the man that he was. A smile came to her lips, an inquisitive look filling her violet eyes as she looked between his.
"I think that you are playing me." She stated after a moment of studiousness. "I think that you probably won't show me much of anything. You're Paul Atreides. You exist with the world on your shoulders, with power so great your hands must be overflowing with it. And what does that have to do with me? With showing me what lives inside of the man?"
what a weight comes with her words. as if she means to try to tear into him. he swallows harshly as he looks at her. he feels something tug at him, hook itself inside of him. slowly he lifts his eyes to hers. holding her eyes, feeling a little bit light headed. he there was something far too knowing in her eyes. he tries tor each for her but he doesn't. he looks down at his hands. covered in blood, are they not? would she say she saw that, too?
he meets her eyes again. a small breath leaves his lips. "do you mean to disassemble me then? take me apart piece by piece? i'm afraid that things you find there might not be what you hoped." but how does he know what she hoped for? he did try his best to read through people, didn't he? and yet with her he felt himself growing patience in actuality. he felt a crack along his exterior. not as well built as he had thought that it would be.
Need. She likes the sound of that. Much like she enjoys the thought that she could give him something. He had always been bigger than his former life, bigger than Henry, bigger than her. But she wasn't going to tell him not to need her. She needed him just as much, possibly. Does he know that?
She smiled as she steps towards him, reaching her hand out to brush her fingers back through his hair. She had missed him so much, had wanted to be at his side now that he was in another life. She did wonder though how much he had for her. "When do you want to leave?"
she had agreed. that seemed to matter more than anything. he had long since cut all his ties to henry. he was not that boy. he never would be again. he was michael gray, he was part of the peaky blinders. he was far above his old life now. but why did he cling to selma so tightly? her quiet and tender love? what made it so important to him?
he lets a breath as he tugs her down onto his lap. he doesn't let himself sink into the feeling. he rests his head back against the couch. his wound is still throbbing in pain. "i have to leave as soon as possible." he says with a small nod of his head.
"I have." He answered almost conspiratorially, something private between them. He wanted to share this with his son. He wanted to look into Ivar's eyes and know that they could experience this together. "It will be enough for us both. We are great warriors and the Allfather will know this. You trust that, don't you?"
this was what he had always wanted. to have his father's pride and favor. to feel his gaze on him in this manner, knowing that after everything he had proven himself. he had done what his father had told him to do. he had done that and so much more. "oh, yes, i'm sure it'll be wonderful to be recognized by the allfather." he says before a small smile comes to his face then. "but you are the great ragnar lothbrok and i am ivar the boneless. why shouldn't we aspire for more?"
Was it anything interesting? He didn't think that it was. Feelings were something that he could hardly unearth of late. It felt heavy and thick and he could barely shake it. He stared ahead of himself for an elongated moment, uncertainty filling him. Even nerves rushing right inside of him. He almost didn't want to look her in the eyes. What did she think of him?
"I didn't have anything specific." he answered with a small shrug of his shoulders. "I mean...I don't think it's very interesting." he laughed a little but it sounded a little bit dry as he held her eyes. She was somehow the most interesting person he had ever met in his entire life. "I just like...to hear your voice." That was a strange thing to say. She would probably think he was crazy.
she can't help but let out a small laugh at what he says. giving a small shake of her head. no one's ever said anything like that to her before. she feels a little unsure suddenly as she looks at him. nervous even. what was she meant to say to that? did he go around saying things like that all the time? she lowers her eyes to the drink in her hand. she doesn't say anything for a moment.
"well, then i guess it doesn't help if i don't say anything, does it?" she says, lifting her eyes to his face now. a slight smile on her's when she meets his eyes. she's not even sure what to say suddenly. a feeling that rarely ever falls on her. she reaches her hand out so that she can touch but he doesn't. she thinks that might make the whole thing even more awkward.
