He himself noticed a shift in his tone. The kind of behaviour he tended to show on a daily basis was different, colder and more professional. Of course he worried about no small number of people, but it rarely pushed through this much. Be it the fact that he’d mistaken— no, not mistaken, simply taken— Sting for an individual of great strength of heart or that his jaw was still sending bursts of dull pain through his head, he’d let himself slip on that harsh statement.
And while it had been harsh, it had been caring.
What a waste this would be. A waste of potential. A waste of a perfectly strong heart.
The grasps his fingers held on the other’s clothing would no loosen, not even when those sharp breaths turned audible. Not even when he began to shake. Not even when he was fighting to find the words he’d thought up on his tongue. His grip was tight, and relentless, as was the will to resolve this situation. What a damn child he was.
Only when those cracked leftovers of a usually so confident voice reached him and sunk in, when his head hung onto his shoulder and he also felt something gripping him by his cloak, but in a far more desperate rather than furious manner did his anger begin to vanish. It slowly crept away, left a brief, bitter feeling within him, and soon had him pick up the soft sound of his heartbeat as his mind was cleared of hasty thoughts and heat-of-the-moment contemplations. Again, no pity settled within him rather than worry, purer and calmed than before, the kind that almost made him feel odd because—heh— it almost felt fatherly. Or at least he supposed as much; his experiences with the such were fairly limited, after all.
Plainly put; those words got to him. They were shaking, not only the noise of them but their choice and the pauses between them, it all felt shaken. —-I’ll take care of you… if you’ll let me. His grasp eventually lost its strength, fingers slowly and gently retreating. He needed his help. Not purely being scolded, not purely being lectured, but actual.. help. And he held sympathy for him. Enough to go out of his way to clear this up. Because every brief glance at the other’s face coupled with the thought of leaving him be as he was sent a piercing feeling of guilt through the Councillor.
Slowly, gently, he reached for the Dragon Slayer’s wrists and let his fingers carefully wrap around them while he moved back a little and glanced at his knuckles. Every little movement was made with care, tranquil and soothingly. “—-I’ll help you,” he replied softly, brows furrowing as he took in the bloodied knuckles. “..let’s start with treating your wounds, though.”
「♕」
Even the King of Kings falters, stumbles and falls he falls into the shadows and darkness without a light to guide his way. no matter what he continues onward, toward his goal, toward the unknown with hopes that he can reign and see the light to see the light of his dreams and his potential
The King’s eyes stayed down until those soft gentle words reached his ears and slowly, his auburn eyes lifted up to look into the eyes of the other. Puzzlement crossed his features and he stared at him, not moving nor daring to blink. So many thoughts raced through the Dragon Slayer’s mind. ‘Why is helping me? I’ve done nothing but be an asshole to him and cause trouble for him….’ Part of him felt himself sinking as he felt his pride sinking further and further into the darkness. Bit by bit he felt his pride being choked. Would he ever return to the surface? He had tons of confidence, true–but, right now he felt like he couldn’t breathe and couldn’t reach the surface of the dark pool.
This man before him, was he his savior? His guiding lantern? His rope to pull him up? He wasn’t sure, but part of him, no–hi he knew he could trust him. No words could explain why he could, but there was something, gentle, something serene about him, something…different.
The blond twitched slightly as he took his hand and unflexed his crimson stained fingers and winced as he felt his wounds open up more. The councilman started to tend to his wounds and he grit his teeth. How such a small injury hurt, he had no idea. Or maybe….it was more than that.
“Sh-shit…" he hissed under his breath and averted his eyes once more from him. Shame coursed through his veins, but he could not allow the other to see such a face. Alas, Sting Eucliffe was a terrible liar and it’d be seen through. He had to try though. A silence fell between the two until his lips parted to speak. ”…Why are you–I mean, I know I–Ugh, you don’t have to. I just….“ he sighed again, ”…Thanks, I guess.“
He muttered almost incoherently and spoke once again, ”….But why? I’m just an annoying child, aren’t I? So why agree to help me when you probably got more important council duties than to help a bratty kid like me?“ He shook his head, trying to sort out his thoughts, but it was deemed futile. His head was hurting so much, it was pounding against his skull. he cringed once more and sighed, ignoring the pain. Lips once again parted, ”…heh, I must look so damn pathetic right now?“
No matter who a person is no matter their status, their title, or birth people are people and people need people we all need that hand extended to us that hand to grasp onto and never let go a hand to lift us up to our feet so that we may continue onward through shadows and thick toward the light together ah yes how we struggle and fall but no matter what there is always a light
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