[There are so many things, the million and one things he's allowing to slide off his back with the wash of sake and the strange but vibrant darkness of their own making; there's an impressive thundercloud of what he's leaving behind for the night standing behind him, looming in lengthening shadows not unlike the miasma they've stepped out of.
But that's the difference: like a storm or a swamp the miasma is very much a thing of the past, leaving all the shades that he's learned to read too well -- and here where for the first time in forever he can see and hear true even through the drunken fog he's still somewhat new to, he can sneak in a bookmark. It's okay: everything here is somehow new and he has no intention of falling behind.]
... Yeah. I wanted to ask. I wanted to say it together, because-- [it's the rush of so much light and color and everything in between, the kaleidoscope that he's caught glimpses of until now; like drinking a shot of lightning or a firework, searing all the way down and jolting you out of yourself; but there's something more delicate here, so he just lets impulse carry him and places his sake cup down against Hikage's and without any further thought slides his hands over his] --those are the words I want to give you. It'll be easier to make sense of this world and this time with you here, so...
[It's still rushed, like he's forcing everything including his breath through this narrow gap and moment, but there's a rare and perhaps unexpected earnestness to it -- solid, like the warm grip of his hands, not quite a handshake and not quite handholding and maybe something in between.
They've made so many deals large and small, after all (no one knows whether to call them promises, but it's been a while since he's believed in those, too). Their cups click together with the closeness, and Subete pulls his hands back to raise his a little.]
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But that's the difference: like a storm or a swamp the miasma is very much a thing of the past, leaving all the shades that he's learned to read too well -- and here where for the first time in forever he can see and hear true even through the drunken fog he's still somewhat new to, he can sneak in a bookmark. It's okay: everything here is somehow new and he has no intention of falling behind.]
... Yeah. I wanted to ask. I wanted to say it together, because-- [it's the rush of so much light and color and everything in between, the kaleidoscope that he's caught glimpses of until now; like drinking a shot of lightning or a firework, searing all the way down and jolting you out of yourself; but there's something more delicate here, so he just lets impulse carry him and places his sake cup down against Hikage's and without any further thought slides his hands over his] --those are the words I want to give you. It'll be easier to make sense of this world and this time with you here, so...
[It's still rushed, like he's forcing everything including his breath through this narrow gap and moment, but there's a rare and perhaps unexpected earnestness to it -- solid, like the warm grip of his hands, not quite a handshake and not quite handholding and maybe something in between.
They've made so many deals large and small, after all (no one knows whether to call them promises, but it's been a while since he's believed in those, too). Their cups click together with the closeness, and Subete pulls his hands back to raise his a little.]
I'll drink to that.