... and there is just letting the breath he'd been holding out finally in a long, almost wearied exhale and moving to entwine his gloved fingers with hers where she'd reached for his hand. Almost like someone finally weakly acknowledging (hai, hai) his defeat and resignation.
(Haah... this will be the end of him.)
Because with a twist of his wrist and almost elegantly smooth motion he'll bring her hand to his face. That small but important sort of gesture like when he'd first done it in the infirmary, nose touched to knuckles in solemn punctuation of the pledge to fight by her side (and make her happy). Like that second time over tea, hands joined as if in prayer and brought up to almost touch lips as he promised her yes, they could and were together on the same sort of path. Here. In the world at least. As long as it was so. But unlike those times...
...it's a little hard to tell actually. Just because of the tingle of warm-cool white mana that tickles a bit like feathers. Although that could also just be because of breath, warm and unexpected. Or perhaps he really has brought her hand up to just so-barely lift his chin—and touch his lips to her fingertips.
In the most reverent, quiet sort of way.
(It is, after all, forever the single gesture reserved just for Lux. The one you could never get him to admit to or even acknowledge he doesn't do with anyone else simply because of how grouchy he'd get over it.)
And also perhaps something to quickly curtail the moment. As he lets their hands drop a little—just a little—to cock his head to the side then and smile softly.
Softly, and quite mysteriously indeed. ♥ Although there's almost something a little sad—a little old and tired—about it too. ]
Have you written a wish with the lanterns yet, Lux?
2/2
... and there is just letting the breath he'd been holding out finally in a long, almost wearied exhale and moving to entwine his gloved fingers with hers where she'd reached for his hand. Almost like someone finally weakly acknowledging (hai, hai) his defeat and resignation.
(Haah... this will be the end of him.)
Because with a twist of his wrist and almost elegantly smooth motion he'll bring her hand to his face. That small but important sort of gesture like when he'd first done it in the infirmary, nose touched to knuckles in solemn punctuation of the pledge to fight by her side (and make her happy). Like that second time over tea, hands joined as if in prayer and brought up to almost touch lips as he promised her yes, they could and were together on the same sort of path. Here. In the world at least. As long as it was so. But unlike those times...
...it's a little hard to tell actually. Just because of the tingle of warm-cool white mana that tickles a bit like feathers. Although that could also just be because of breath, warm and unexpected. Or perhaps he really has brought her hand up to just so-barely lift his chin—and touch his lips to her fingertips.
In the most reverent, quiet sort of way.
(It is, after all, forever the single gesture reserved just for Lux. The one you could never get him to admit to or even acknowledge he doesn't do with anyone else simply because of how grouchy he'd get over it.)
And also perhaps something to quickly curtail the moment. As he lets their hands drop a little—just a little—to cock his head to the side then and smile softly.
Softly, and quite mysteriously indeed. ♥ Although there's almost something a little sad—a little old and tired—about it too. ]
Have you written a wish with the lanterns yet, Lux?