what makes you hate

solid, familiar. protecting. there is little in the way of comforts as of late, the two of them expelled from home and so far off the road that it feels like they’ll never make their way back -- through the heartache, through the sleepless, watchful nights, he had been there. and still they pressed on. they persisted int he face of adversity before they could rest, and when they did? they had moments like these. tender, gentle things that no one could steal from them. 

his hands find his wrists, he holds him there as he smiles with those small kisses that get a rise from the base of his tail and out towards the rest of him, blocked from the wild thrashing he’s prone to by that pillar of holy might behind him. 

“ hadriel ” he says, his voice unable to hide his smile behind the warning. he leans his head to the side, pushes back against him with a small thunk from the side of his head, all while his heart thunders and races in his chest. it always did. this long together, and you’d think you get used to it. 

the affection is never rebuffed. his tail wraps around his leg protectively. he leans into his head and neck with his own, keeping his hands firmly in place around him. a fire, a lover, a hot meal. sometimes, this homeless thing wasn’t too bad. 

Stolen from @greyhunted​

          “ we go by adventurers, ” dema says almost before he can get that last word out.  she’s taken a liking to the title of something else besides worthless thief and heartless assassin since her work with a group began.

          but it’s enough to get a more action-driven reaction out of her.  body twists on the stairs, right leg being brought to rest where palms can sit atop knee.  head tilts, and the smallest bit of her face can be seen - what with the dimness of lantern hanging beside inn door.

          “ we’re just passin’ through, i do believe. ”

“ ... then you are ”

         its more for himself at this point, he leans back against the railing with another, slow draw from his pipe. the tail snakes out to the side, and flicks -- he keeps his eyes on her in the dim light, his pupils... shifting. flickering? his brow knits in concentration. 

          she keeps telling herself that perhaps he’ll move on, but another part of her enjoys the company to rid the air of that eerie silence that lingered beforehand.  dema reaches to a pouch at her left side, digs fingertips in to pull out a berry before raising it to her mouth.  a small serpentine head snatches it from the shadows in a hurry, and retreats again within the blink of an eye.

          “ i would’a been fine.  probably would’a just… let you lay there, but i would’a been okay. ” her own words cause the quietest scoff of laughter, but it dies away just as fast as it appeared.  “ figured everybody should be asleep by now, but i guess i’m not the only one who doesn’t really got a set curfew. ”

“ i ain’t sayin’ i’d’ve tripped ”

yeah, he can do this person thing well enough. screw the angel, at least in this sense -- he can manage on his own, and here he was worried about setting off on his own for this guy. but now he’s got a sidelong glance, now he’s taking a parsing glance through the dark. 

the itch for progress gets stronger.

          gaze was averted back to the ground in front of her prior to his continuation, but still remains half-turned in his direction, expecting his form to appear beside her at any minute.  but it doesn’t, and there’s an obvious wave of relief that overcomes her as the tenseness in her shoulders slowly settles and falls.

          “ too bad then, huh ? ” spoken under her breath to hopefully muffle what’s mostly being said.  dema internally pushes herself at the snide comment directed to her own mentality.  “ better t’ not get stepped on, then, i guess. ”

“ or a fast track to it. there are people with worse eyesight ”

he takes a moment to stare at her back, specifically the back of her hood -- a part of him swears up and down that he’d seen something move, but for the sake of privacy, he keeps his thoughts to himself, lest his mouth get him in trouble again. gods know he’s paid that price before. 

        caught off guard ; sitting on the stairs outside the inn, hoping no one would’ve been awake this time of night but her fears are confirmed when a voice meets her ears.  eyes snap to the source, along with a dozen pairs more, and dema’s hurriedly trying to shoosh the snakes into their hiding spot beneath fabric.

         “ i dunno– i mean, i– ” idle panic in her voice, escalating slowly but only to rush her more.  “ don’t get what you mean.  if you’re talkin’ about the insomnia, then you can have it if you want it. ”

there is a muffled laugh, a product of unease and absent-minded observation as the man takes careful, silent steps down the stairs behind her -- save for the click, click noise of the toes of his boots. he’s pulling off morn leather gloves, shoving them somewhere under the fabric gathered about his shoulders.