You may not recall calling me

Noss · 01-19-2011, 08:08 PM

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Excited for the snow storm? I kinda am and am not cuz now I have to rework all my timeline stuffs >.> Oh wells; MAJOR PLOTTAGE! X3

Strel's mannerisms were shifting violently whichever way the large warrior pushed him--or, really, whichever way his emotions felt like going--and Noss almost grinned at the silly scene that Strel was making with that throw pillow. With quite the fright, endearing--that exact word, no manly connotation about it--came to mind, even though the conversation was turning serious. He had half expected Strel to react the way he was, though he had almost hoped that the redhead would hear the last part and not make Noss have to mushily explain himself. He should've learned, though; inebriation often meant misunderstanding.

Despite Strel's initial reaction and the way he tried to make himself look happy, the way he said those words didn't make it sound at all like he meant it. The words stung, no doubt--Does he really think that about me...?--but at the moment, he just needed to make himself clear, at the very least. That was the very minimum. When Strel had told Noss about his rapes...Noss had been angry, to be sure. But the other experiences had made it painfully clear to the gray behemoth of why Strelein acted the way he did. Strel was like Ralla; afraid, angry, and alone in the fight. At the very least that was pretty egotistical to think himself as something so pondered in the tailor's mind, but confronting his younger sister had shown him how easily little fears could grow into monsters that rarely had pretty faces. And then that infuriating white wolf... He would never apologize to him, even if Ralla defended him to the ends of the earth. But...he had to give him credit for trying to defend her. And so she had not been completely alone. In the present case, Noss wanted to support Strel through what his mind was facing just as Strel had kept him in check for far longer than he had imagined during their confrontation back at AniWaya. Had Strel not been there, Noss would've likely jumped Kemo from the get-go and literally mauled him. It was not a nice or polite thought--far, far from it--but it was truth. Someone endangering or getting too close to Ralla would never be forgiven in his mind.

And he felt that same protecting passion for Strel.

As he rubbed the bridge of his nose, trying to find the words to convey what he wanted to say, he had to stop himself a few times from questioning himself again how to the redhead had wormed his way into Noss's inner circle. What's done is done. And now I have to keep up my end of the bargain. Yes; Noss still felt that love for the tailor. Love for their times together and times to come; love for the way that Strel seemed to be able to magically keep him under control at the most crucial of times and for the way that his words sparked such intense banter that Noss did not engage in often but seemed to do so frequently with the redhead. But that required that he make an active effort to keep the tailor from being so upset as often as he had been because of Noss himself. He didn't like to see Strel so out of places...because it made him feel lost, too. He saw the misty sheen cover Strel's eyes and had to keep himself from touching the redhead's cheek again. That would only freak him out; make him angrier. "I am leaving, Strel. But not permanantly. I'll be back; here." This time he emphasized that he was going to return; he didn't want to leave these particular stones unturned. "I'm going to renounce my claim of being chief, Strel. I...I don't want to be there if..." That's where he trailed off, suddenly embarassed again at how words that needed to be spoken often didn't let you speak them easily. He had already said 'I love you'; these words paled in comparison. "you're not..."

He got up then and started to pace, Strel's stinging words beginning to affect him. Often Noss reacted carelessly to the most mundane words thrown at him--vehemently, if insulting--but Noss found himself more troubled and actually hurt rather than offended when Strel used those words as weapons. Every warrior had chinks in their armor, and Noss's chinks were becoming irksome the more he let them be. "Do you really mean that...?" he asked, referring to if Strel really didn't enjoy his company. He had asked that once before, when he had attempted to distance himself, and had gotten a guarded answer that was neither yes or no. So now he asked again, even though the timing was terrible because of Strel's drunken state. He knew there had been a reason why he had wanted to tell Strel when he was sober... At the same time, with a spark of foolish hope, Strel could've meant the words in a way where he would miss Noss; that he, maybe, would miss the ruckus that Noss seemed to cause so often, it seemed. The thinking of a hopeless-romantic indeed.

Warrior walks. "Warrior talks." Warrior thinks.

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