[ The affirmation is excited, if still a touch too nervous, but he's finding his stride again, ignoring the pinpricks of heat blossoming at his side with every brush of contact. It's fine, he repeats ad nauseum, this never bothered him before, it's not a problem now--
--not that it's bothering him. If anything, it's delightfully distracting, but he's resolved himself not to let strange, foolish notions of human attachment influence his decisions.
That resolve almost holds, too, until the casual sling of an arm around him, and then his breath is catching again, heartbeat quickening slightly for it. Rather than draw attention to it, he just sinks into the momentary feeling of it. The security offered there.
Somewhere, a memory presses at his thoughts, stirs a craving for comfort that hits low and deep. ]
They're not old. They're antiquities. There's a difference.
[ Said with perhaps more indignation than is necessary, Lavi redirects their path without further preamble, leading them to the quietly glowing shop tucked between the livelier street performers. From the moment he sees it, his thoughts begin to drift, anticipation blanking his concerns and erasing the faint tension in his body that had lingered until now.
The place just smells magical to him. Of dust and aged paper, of ink presses long erased by history..!
Lavi slides away from Kanda as if lured by a siren, loudly announcing his arrival with an excited wave to the shopkeeper and disappearing into the aisles. Unfortunately, the shop is a little too effective at erasing his worries, and it's not more than a minute before he's sitting on the ground, flipping through a worn-leather bound book. ]
no subject
[ The affirmation is excited, if still a touch too nervous, but he's finding his stride again, ignoring the pinpricks of heat blossoming at his side with every brush of contact. It's fine, he repeats ad nauseum, this never bothered him before, it's not a problem now--
--not that it's bothering him. If anything, it's delightfully distracting, but he's resolved himself not to let strange, foolish notions of human attachment influence his decisions.
That resolve almost holds, too, until the casual sling of an arm around him, and then his breath is catching again, heartbeat quickening slightly for it. Rather than draw attention to it, he just sinks into the momentary feeling of it. The security offered there.
Somewhere, a memory presses at his thoughts, stirs a craving for comfort that hits low and deep. ]
They're not old. They're antiquities. There's a difference.
[ Said with perhaps more indignation than is necessary, Lavi redirects their path without further preamble, leading them to the quietly glowing shop tucked between the livelier street performers. From the moment he sees it, his thoughts begin to drift, anticipation blanking his concerns and erasing the faint tension in his body that had lingered until now.
The place just smells magical to him. Of dust and aged paper, of ink presses long erased by history..!
Lavi slides away from Kanda as if lured by a siren, loudly announcing his arrival with an excited wave to the shopkeeper and disappearing into the aisles. Unfortunately, the shop is a little too effective at erasing his worries, and it's not more than a minute before he's sitting on the ground, flipping through a worn-leather bound book. ]