#sitariisms

the child sniffles and stands, brushing off his pants and rubs at his eyes to brush away his tears. he shoots a glance at his mentor and tilts his head before gives a short sob and totters over to Bookman, clinging to him and burying his face in the soft fabric of his clothes.

he doesn’t say anything, simply nods and leans back so he can rub at his face. his hands are dirty from the ground, but he doesn’t care much. there isn’t much room for Emyd to care. he looks up at him before reaching up and opening and closing his palms and making a small whimpering noise.

“ up, papa, up…! ”

     a gently moving hand comes to rest upon the top of the child’s head, his eyes down on the boy, currently neck-deep in his own thoughts of his apprentice. he easily breaks from the silent aspect of such musings however && a soft sigh is given once the infant demands being held. 

     papa. 

     only needing to crouch slightly, he bends at his knees, again touching the top of Emyd’s head before he opens his arms. he has become quite used to carrying the child, as he often wanted to be held. for a very brief moment, the man ponders what it will be like when he no longer has to do such things for the little one.

“ mm. . ” 

caught staring off again. how many times does that make this? how many times does it make it without being caught? he’s not sure. running from problems instead of facing them head-on seemed to be his strategy often, nowadays at least. 

he feels pretty shitty, now that Demyx has seen, has figured it out, has made a statement on it. at first, the redhead simply grins, kissing the Nocturne’s nose in response. 

@sitariisms