[ He rests his forehead to Lyney's, eyes half-lidded. Heart in his throat. It's been so long since he was this close to someone--even longer since he was truly at a loss for what to do next, longer since he feared what someone might say or do to him. Everything else, there's been an answer to; the prophecy, his time as an inmate, the incident that sent him to Meropide in the first place. For once, Wriothesley sees no immediate path forward--just feels Lyney close to him, hands near his scars, the faint scrape of his stubble at Lyney's smooth unblemished cheeks. They breathe. Suspended in silence.
A current runs between them. Warm and electric and so much more fragile than anything that came before. He doesn't want it to break yet, doesn't want to let go now that he's finally holding on--and so after the drawn-out moment of their silence, he angles forward to kiss him again. Slow. Gentler now.
The closest thing to an answer--the only thing that seems certain in a time so fraught with question, abstract as it may be--comes to him as their lips touch once more. He has to protect Lyney. Has to find a secret space and build a structure anew, this time, on his own. A shelter to save a soul. ]
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A current runs between them. Warm and electric and so much more fragile than anything that came before. He doesn't want it to break yet, doesn't want to let go now that he's finally holding on--and so after the drawn-out moment of their silence, he angles forward to kiss him again. Slow. Gentler now.
The closest thing to an answer--the only thing that seems certain in a time so fraught with question, abstract as it may be--comes to him as their lips touch once more. He has to protect Lyney. Has to find a secret space and build a structure anew, this time, on his own. A shelter to save a soul. ]