03-04-2022, 02:51 PM
Arc nods his head grimly when Allaire says she likes his name. He clears his throat, well aware that she could not see his responses, but feeling too frozen by company to offer any verbal confirmation. All the muscles in his face and neck tense, trying desperately to contain the panic of knowing she isn't brushing him off.
The sorrow that changes Allaire's face completely clears Arcturos' mind. He straightens his entire body and blinks rapidly in surprise. The thestral has seen all manner of instinctive reactions to what he is, but never one so sympathetic. Disgust, pity, even anger. He's made a game of it, finding his plight terribly funny or else he'd go mad, but there has yet to be a score for sorrow. Arc makes a notch in his mind; but more than anything, he feels a new kind of ache in his heart. One he cannot name yet, but he knows will linger with him forever.
Can I touch you?
Arcturos says absolutely nothing for an uncomfortable few seconds. He is initially miffed - perhaps more baffled than anything - and thinks such a question an offensive thing to ask. Saint often only ever found him with touch, and such instances were either cold or cruel or both. It does eventually strike him, though, that perhaps physical touch is the only way for one to fully get to know him. He swallows, hesitating precariously on a response, before finally answering with a quiet, "Yes."
Slowly, each step almost agonizing, Arcturos comes close enough to Allaire that he might reach out his nose to hers.
"I'm right in front of you."
Then he very lightly presses the side of his nose to her cheek. He draws back with a sharp inhale, feeling more desperate to be seen than any other moment in his life.
@Allaire
The sorrow that changes Allaire's face completely clears Arcturos' mind. He straightens his entire body and blinks rapidly in surprise. The thestral has seen all manner of instinctive reactions to what he is, but never one so sympathetic. Disgust, pity, even anger. He's made a game of it, finding his plight terribly funny or else he'd go mad, but there has yet to be a score for sorrow. Arc makes a notch in his mind; but more than anything, he feels a new kind of ache in his heart. One he cannot name yet, but he knows will linger with him forever.
Can I touch you?
Arcturos says absolutely nothing for an uncomfortable few seconds. He is initially miffed - perhaps more baffled than anything - and thinks such a question an offensive thing to ask. Saint often only ever found him with touch, and such instances were either cold or cruel or both. It does eventually strike him, though, that perhaps physical touch is the only way for one to fully get to know him. He swallows, hesitating precariously on a response, before finally answering with a quiet, "Yes."
Slowly, each step almost agonizing, Arcturos comes close enough to Allaire that he might reach out his nose to hers.
"I'm right in front of you."
Then he very lightly presses the side of his nose to her cheek. He draws back with a sharp inhale, feeling more desperate to be seen than any other moment in his life.
@Allaire