[ perhaps he says, as if that word has any finality to it. Barbatos is already relaxing when the skeptic look passes Morax's face, but he leaves it as it is.
a breath draws in through his nose, and then out his lips. the tension in his shoulders begin to drain, and his body gets a heavy. he would think that this wasn't so bad, if he was stubborn enough to admit it. even Barbatos' hand holds an odd kind of comfort – Morax was not a friendly god, and he inspired loyalty, but consolation.
he would say that Barbatos was soft, but not as an insult, but as a curious term so opposite his own nature. it's the last think that he thinks about before he finds himself dozing, as much as he can, to the sound of the wind rustling the leaves. his body, stiff and tense with war, feels more drained than he remembers it when his muscles unravel.
HONEST I DIDNT EVEN NOTICE
a breath draws in through his nose, and then out his lips. the tension in his shoulders begin to drain, and his body gets a heavy. he would think that this wasn't so bad, if he was stubborn enough to admit it. even Barbatos' hand holds an odd kind of comfort – Morax was not a friendly god, and he inspired loyalty, but consolation.
he would say that Barbatos was soft, but not as an insult, but as a curious term so opposite his own nature. it's the last think that he thinks about before he finds himself dozing, as much as he can, to the sound of the wind rustling the leaves. his body, stiff and tense with war, feels more drained than he remembers it when his muscles unravel.
it's an odd thing to be unused to. ]