Kyanite (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
screamingdickpuncher) wrote2014-01-29 10:14 am
screamingdickpuncher) wrote2014-01-29 10:14 am
(no subject)
"A child of Ares and a child of Aphrodite... What an unreliable sounding pair. I guess that's why they didn't look very thrilled to see us off!" For the comment he made, Rolan's tone sounded laughingly light, and he shot Alviss a grin that pulled at the split in his lower lip. Alviss itched to tell him to stop smiling long enough for it to heal properly, but he figured it would be a useless attempt, with the look on his face as bright as it was.
"I'm plenty reliable," he corrected him instead, which Rolan answered with a short laugh and a "yes, yes." Alviss shoved his thumbs in his pockets, as if he thought a more aggressive posture might scare off some of the uncomfortable nostalgia. "What's more worrying is that we've been sent as a 'pair' in the first place."
That wasn't entirely true. Rolan was also worrying.
But from the knowing smile Rolan gave him, that was clear without saying.
"Well, they can't argue with a prophecy," said Rolan, soft and casual and utterly pleased with the whole turn of events; Alviss clenched his teeth. Barely a week before, (and the week before that, too, and before that, and on and on a countless number of times during all the years they'd spent at camp,) Alviss had gone up to Rolan to talk--about the bruises that were always on Rolan's face, about letting Alviss help him--and Rolan had brushed him off, as always, with a polite and passive smile.
"I'm plenty reliable," he corrected him instead, which Rolan answered with a short laugh and a "yes, yes." Alviss shoved his thumbs in his pockets, as if he thought a more aggressive posture might scare off some of the uncomfortable nostalgia. "What's more worrying is that we've been sent as a 'pair' in the first place."
That wasn't entirely true. Rolan was also worrying.
But from the knowing smile Rolan gave him, that was clear without saying.
"Well, they can't argue with a prophecy," said Rolan, soft and casual and utterly pleased with the whole turn of events; Alviss clenched his teeth. Barely a week before, (and the week before that, too, and before that, and on and on a countless number of times during all the years they'd spent at camp,) Alviss had gone up to Rolan to talk--about the bruises that were always on Rolan's face, about letting Alviss help him--and Rolan had brushed him off, as always, with a polite and passive smile.