[A lack of liquor had given way to a regrettable moment of clarity. It wasn't when they'd both spilled each other's blood in the forest, nor when he'd tangled his body with Solomon's monstrous form. Not even the ritual in Wyver had driven his mind to such maniacal places as the future.
Walking in the moonlight, at the crest of a hill, Takasugi had realized his solitude. Hyper-aware, like when one tries to fully comprehend what it means to have a reflection, he'd made a fleeting wish for a certain someone's presence.
In the throes of missing the bastard, Takasugi had composed a poem. A simple piece he almost regrets, but for the warmth it's brought him. The tingling feeling from his scalp melts over the rest of his body, gentleness easy to soak up when it's labeled as indulgence.]
Tedious, huh...? [This intimacy is tedious - Takasugi feels heavier for letting it sedate him so easily. He's frowning, now, but Solomon won't see that, with the samurai nestled so close.] That's the problem with you.
[For an embodiment of the trite, Solomon is an effective reprieve from meaninglessness.
Somehow.
That's a poem for another day - and for no one's eyes.]
no subject
Walking in the moonlight, at the crest of a hill, Takasugi had realized his solitude. Hyper-aware, like when one tries to fully comprehend what it means to have a reflection, he'd made a fleeting wish for a certain someone's presence.
In the throes of missing the bastard, Takasugi had composed a poem. A simple piece he almost regrets, but for the warmth it's brought him. The tingling feeling from his scalp melts over the rest of his body, gentleness easy to soak up when it's labeled as indulgence.]
Tedious, huh...? [This intimacy is tedious - Takasugi feels heavier for letting it sedate him so easily. He's frowning, now, but Solomon won't see that, with the samurai nestled so close.] That's the problem with you.
[For an embodiment of the trite, Solomon is an effective reprieve from meaninglessness.
Somehow.
That's a poem for another day - and for no one's eyes.]