Distant

Noss · 12-19-2010, 12:39 PM

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Oh god, I might actually cry from the angst ;-;

When Strel wanted to move out from under Noss, he let him, sitting instead on the backs of his legs, looking hard at him. Disturbingly short answers were all that he was receiving from the man he had just confessed to, and thereafter from the confession, the anger had cooled to worry. Because after letting down that barrier of 'what ifs' and 'hows', Strel had officially become a part of Noss's inner circle. Noss would accept if Strel didn't ever want to see him again--he would still consider and treat Strel as a part of that inner circle--but he wouldn't go without a fight. "You're lying," he murmured, not daring to touch the man again unless he made to leave. Noss just looked at the back of his head and tried to figure out what was going on in there; what it would take. With all other wordly distractions gone for the moment, what Noss normally wouldn't have seen or noticed about emotions become so much clearer, and he felt that there was hope in the argument that they were having.

"Fine, we don't know what's happened in each other's lives up until one month ago. But I do know the Strel that I've spent one month with." He said Strel's name to make it absolute, if not only to harden his own resolve. He had and was committing to the man, forgetting all earlier plans of even attempting to leave things like they were. But then there was that obstacle that Strel didn't think the same way as Noss in that aspect; maybe Strel felt like they needed to know each other's pasts to make it real. "And I want to know more. I won't reject you," he said evenly, without a hint of deceit. They might argue or fight over some issues, but when it came down to it, Noss always saw Strelein as he was. He couldn't care less what Strel was like before he met him--well, he cared, but it wasn't as if it was going to change his mind--but he was afraid to ask if Strel wouldn't reject him if he knew all the things he'd done. Yes, afraid. The tailor was in such a paradox emotional state that he didn't know what was going to set him off, and Noss wondered if maybe...Strel was afraid too.

He moved slowly closer to Strel--still on his knees, still not touching--as if he were trying not to startle a herd of elk. For long moments he thought in silence, before a silly idea popped into his head. "When I was a pup, I ruined a hunt, thinking I could take them all down myself. My father drilled me in battle stances for days without stopping. I was in my first territory war when I was two, and I killed two wolves." The victory of battle he was proud of, not the deaths. He went on, listing those parts of his past to Strel in a dim hope that they would count towards what Strel needed. "But those things aren't 'me', are they?" He didn't know if that sounded right, and at that moment he wished hard that he had the eloquence of words that his mother and sister had... That Strel had, even if the words were so often twisted into humorous airs. In a way, he was fighting an uphill battle without a weapon to his name, and it made the prize all that much more important.

Warrior walks. "Warrior talks." Warrior thinks.

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