[Mikleo's eyes widen at that, gazing back at Sorey in surprise for a few lingering moments. His eyes drift across Sorey's features, as if memorizing, re-memorizing the details while they're so close. The marks and imperfections of his skin caused by exploration and life-threatening battles, or little nicks and scars that aren't visible from a distance, or the splotches of different colours that decorate his face from hours in and out of the sun. His eyes are bright and happy, with a lingering sadness Mikleo knows is mirrored in his own all too often lately. It's a face he's looked at hundreds, thousands of times in his lifetime, one he has yet to ever grow tired of seeing.
Sorey's occasionally gone on about how beautiful seraphim are, but to Mikleo, humans can be much more of a fascinating canvas, their life experiences carved into their bodies and carried for all the world to see. Sorey's face is a map whose details tell a hundred stories, and Mikleo knows how fortunate he is to have been a part of so many of them. Sort of makes him wonder why Zaveid chose to get his tattoos, and how, and what kind of stories they tell. If those imperfections played a part in Sorey's near-decision in the fire trial, to scar his own face rather than ruin Lailah's beauty.
He doesn't know how to say any of this, but if Sorey's okay with what he sees, then... then, well. He's okay, too. He's always been okay with this, it's only that he lacked the courage to admit it.]
...Don't make it weird, [is what he finally mumbles, however, leaning in to bury his face against the crook of Sorey's neck, his forehead pressed to the fabric of the Shepherd's collar. The feathers tickle his nose, and it's such a familiar sensation it makes his chest hurt.]
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Sorey's occasionally gone on about how beautiful seraphim are, but to Mikleo, humans can be much more of a fascinating canvas, their life experiences carved into their bodies and carried for all the world to see. Sorey's face is a map whose details tell a hundred stories, and Mikleo knows how fortunate he is to have been a part of so many of them. Sort of makes him wonder why Zaveid chose to get his tattoos, and how, and what kind of stories they tell. If those imperfections played a part in Sorey's near-decision in the fire trial, to scar his own face rather than ruin Lailah's beauty.
He doesn't know how to say any of this, but if Sorey's okay with what he sees, then... then, well. He's okay, too. He's always been okay with this, it's only that he lacked the courage to admit it.]
...Don't make it weird, [is what he finally mumbles, however, leaning in to bury his face against the crook of Sorey's neck, his forehead pressed to the fabric of the Shepherd's collar. The feathers tickle his nose, and it's such a familiar sensation it makes his chest hurt.]