It was hard to hold back his laugh when the other nearly crashed into him, voice loud enough to rattle Neven’s already-fraying nerves. Surely, this one knew to be quiet when someone woke confused? His nostrils flared with a snort, ears twitching as he fought to remain composed.
It nearly worked—but his smile curved higher, and his chest shook with the laughter he kept bottled beneath his ribs. He waited a beat before turning his head, still lounging, tail thudding lazily against the grass.
The smile remained, but it softened at the edges as his dark eyes wandered. He looked without shame, like the other was an art piece gifted to him, meant to be appraised. The other was… oddly beautiful. Not in the way he’s used to—no polished grace, no royal charms—but in the kind of way wildflowers grow when no one’s watching.
Leaning in closer to inspect, he noticed now the crackle in their throat, heard the rasp stitched into every word, the strain of each breath.
It nearly worked—but his smile curved higher, and his chest shook with the laughter he kept bottled beneath his ribs. He waited a beat before turning his head, still lounging, tail thudding lazily against the grass.
The smile remained, but it softened at the edges as his dark eyes wandered. He looked without shame, like the other was an art piece gifted to him, meant to be appraised. The other was… oddly beautiful. Not in the way he’s used to—no polished grace, no royal charms—but in the kind of way wildflowers grow when no one’s watching.
Sir?he nearly choked, his head shaking with a short laugh.
I’m certainly no sir—but ah!His gaze fell, surprise flitting across his freckled face. Blooms he did not recognize did in fact lay crushed beneath him. With the drama of a stage-trained noble, he shifted slowly like he was rising from a chaise lounge rather than a bed of dirt. His obsidian shoulders stretched, lean limbs unfolding from beneath him with a long suffering sigh. There was no urgency, only a languid grace—indulgent, like the world could wait for him.
Perhaps you are right…?he prompted with a raised brow, waiting for a name of any sort—a name he could learn, one to memorize. His gaze flickered up briefly meeting eyes the color of sunlight through chestnut bark, warm and wide with nerves. His own remained a darker thing—shadowed as they were, and tinged with curious delight—before drifting down again to the crushed purple blooms beneath him.
Fear not. It would seem not all chose to be crushed.
Leaning in closer to inspect, he noticed now the crackle in their throat, heard the rasp stitched into every word, the strain of each breath.
You quite alright?he pressed, looking the stranger up and down now with a furrowed brow.
You’re sure pretty, but if you sneeze on me…Neven’s nose wrinkled, and he took a large step back, lifting a paw to press at his chest as if he feared for his life.
I don’t think I’ll make it.
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