@asteracae, nonverbal starters » ( accepting ) : 🤗 Pull my muse into a hug / I JUST THINK IT WOULD BE CUTE!!!!
it is a shock -- like the first time his wings had failed him and he had fallen from the sky. like dunking his head beneath the water the first time, or how it had felt to see lumine among the dim of the nameless god. through the lens of his own awareness, all of it filtered down until he remembers suddenly: an, oh, quiet, in tune with the thrumming of his heart. right, yes. i have a body. there is something else here. it had been more forgivable in the early days, when it was still new. the legs and the muscles and the bones, of course, which always broke far too easily, even then. it is less forgivable now, when every misstep is nearly a fall.
she gives just one tug, and he goes with, unsuspecting, flowing with the movement, and then her arms close over him and all that grace goes out with it. it takes a moment of just his hands bent in the air, fingers curled in on themselves, a shocked expression that only the wall behind her gets to witness ( thankfully ).
when had been the last time anyone had hugged him? had touched him and not left behind some bruise, some cut, some immutable scar? he can’t remember.
reality catches up just about the time it starts to become awkward and she starts to move away, which -- no, he doesn’t that. the wind in mondstadt always has a faintly pleasant smell to it, floral, like the cecilias high up on starfell are drifting down into the valley below, and it clings to her, too. a warm scent.
it had been that comfort he had missed so desperately, and it’s that desperation returning the gesture. arms tucked beneath hers, fingers digging into her back -- not enough to hurt, but just enough to give him away, like he’s saying please, don’t let go. not yet, just a moment longer. he tucks his face against his shoulder and lets the warmth of someone else seep in through the cracks. embarrassingly, he can feel the slight burn of tears against his eyes, faint.
( a strange feeling, foreign to him. he hasn't cried in this body. not when the nightmares had dug their claws in all oily & slick, not when lumine had abandoned him the first time or the second, not even after the duel that had left the taste of lightning on his tongue and he had felt the first fissures of divinity ).
the tears don’t fall, but they solidify in his chest, crystals to catch & refract the light. he lets her go and steps away, his cheeks singed. rubs the back of his hand nervously against his chin. it’s some sort of vulnerability she’s unearthed; hands carving at primordial clay to find something alive and human beneath it all, all terribly red. it takes a moment for him to compose himself. the grand light of the universe, filtered through the way his lashes flutter, the way golden eyes flit nervously around the room.
" it's good to see you, jean. " it is a warbling little smile that he manages, but a smile nonetheless. " i missed you. "