( the lion flicks a stone ear, tilting its head to the side. soon after it mimics the sound that Anya made, as if testing it out; then giving up and issuing its standard roar with a toss of its head, starting to circle around them both. not to watch them; on the contrary. the lion is watching just about everything else, settling down after three rotations, laying down on the ground watching the knights and the dragon.
Yuri doesn't object to her leaning against him. if anything, he's glad for the contact, glad for someone who already knows so much of the worst of him, who's stayed anyway. it's been one of those thoughts he's turned over in his head, along with so many others. he'd thought he'd had an answer, weeks ago, to a confession he'd been blindsided by. he's fairly sure Anya has both excellent taste and horrid taste: he knows his own worth, but it's not measured in interpersonal relationships. he's not ready to slow down his drive, and he's not sure how to adjust it to allow anyone in, consistently; to reach out when he's tired, to listen to someone else when all he wants to do is withdraw and hammer out whatever's going on in his head.
he thought he'd had an answer. he'd learned something about depth and his own shadows when trapped in the caverns and their sporadic stretches of darkness, chased and chasing after a creature out of myth and legend. he'd learned something about fragility and the worth in living in a moment, fearless, after coming so close to death in water and gnashing teeth and rope that dragged him under, safety and danger in one. he'd learned about festering bitterness and an aversion to change, being inflexible and scared of what? change happens. people succeed and fail in everything, every day. they were no more guaranteed to be around the people they loved for more than the moment they lived than they were guaranteed to reality, as today has been proven. a video game level of button smashing and monster slaying, with no healing potions, no checkpoints for saving, only luck and something like skill and the grace of a universe that doesn't give a shit in the first place, because caring doesn't matter on a cosmic level.
it's a lot simpler in his head than all that; because about all that matters is they've made it here, the city's been restored to whatever messed up save-point it'd never really been at, there's a giant dragon looming over knights over there, a stone lion laying own to their right, and he doesn't know what else. )
Two of them. Pretty cool, right? ( though he keeps her close, not trying to look down at her face so much as tuck his face against the side of her head and just focus on breathing. after a few beats of his heart, he sighs out, laughing under his breath. he's only patient when he needs to be. right now he's relieved, happy, joyous, and feeling the exhaustion come creeping back in, purring like a particularly sadistic cat.
so it's jarring, but he's often jarring. not smooth, because he isn't smooth except when he doesn't try at all. ) Nastenka. What happens if you kiss a frog and he never turns into a prince?
no subject
Yuri doesn't object to her leaning against him. if anything, he's glad for the contact, glad for someone who already knows so much of the worst of him, who's stayed anyway. it's been one of those thoughts he's turned over in his head, along with so many others. he'd thought he'd had an answer, weeks ago, to a confession he'd been blindsided by. he's fairly sure Anya has both excellent taste and horrid taste: he knows his own worth, but it's not measured in interpersonal relationships. he's not ready to slow down his drive, and he's not sure how to adjust it to allow anyone in, consistently; to reach out when he's tired, to listen to someone else when all he wants to do is withdraw and hammer out whatever's going on in his head.
he thought he'd had an answer. he'd learned something about depth and his own shadows when trapped in the caverns and their sporadic stretches of darkness, chased and chasing after a creature out of myth and legend. he'd learned something about fragility and the worth in living in a moment, fearless, after coming so close to death in water and gnashing teeth and rope that dragged him under, safety and danger in one. he'd learned about festering bitterness and an aversion to change, being inflexible and scared of what? change happens. people succeed and fail in everything, every day. they were no more guaranteed to be around the people they loved for more than the moment they lived than they were guaranteed to reality, as today has been proven. a video game level of button smashing and monster slaying, with no healing potions, no checkpoints for saving, only luck and something like skill and the grace of a universe that doesn't give a shit in the first place, because caring doesn't matter on a cosmic level.
it's a lot simpler in his head than all that; because about all that matters is they've made it here, the city's been restored to whatever messed up save-point it'd never really been at, there's a giant dragon looming over knights over there, a stone lion laying own to their right, and he doesn't know what else. )
Two of them. Pretty cool, right? ( though he keeps her close, not trying to look down at her face so much as tuck his face against the side of her head and just focus on breathing. after a few beats of his heart, he sighs out, laughing under his breath. he's only patient when he needs to be. right now he's relieved, happy, joyous, and feeling the exhaustion come creeping back in, purring like a particularly sadistic cat.
so it's jarring, but he's often jarring. not smooth, because he isn't smooth except when he doesn't try at all. ) Nastenka. What happens if you kiss a frog and he never turns into a prince?