when the door to their shared living quarters is open, ethos only has a moment to catch a glimpse of himself in the nearby mirror before his attention naturally falls to the other assimar — already in the room with him.
what he managed discern of himself gives him an idea of what himmel sees, now that he's looking at ethos:
arms bare without the adorning shawl, hair disheveled from being tussled in the grass and deep crimson stains on the skin of his neck not covered by a turtleneck. that last detail might seem concerning, were it not for a clear outline of lips, in the same hue, on bare shoulder.
it is decidedly not a usual sight.
ethos doesn't turn his back to the paladin, flashing a soft smile in greeting as he pulls the door closed along with his entry. the subject of discussion is complex in and of itself and he needs to be aware of himmel; to navigate.
“ sorry, time has escaped me. ” it is an admission of his precipitancy. “ i met the writer who broke in that night. ” the reason.
“ willem. ” and this, this is for himmel. (who can trust him.)
ethos wonders if the other's focus on the man in the act would make him overlook the subtle changes to his surrounding description. where 'guy' becomes 'writer', where his name is said not as intel but an invocation of memory.
when he goes to approach, he lets the pleasant comfort in the aftermath of sensations, their relaxing effect, guide how he moves. no strain, no weight, no danger. he's safe.
and ethos knows why this matters. willem seemed to, also.
measured steps carry the implication that the host intends to keep walking, should his suggestion be considered:
“ i'd like to prepare a bath. let's talk there? ” he slows when he's in front of the other aasimar, to allow time for himmel to make his decision. “ it's quite a tale. ”
@trauerfeier | ৎ୨
