[ There's a moment where he leans into it. Feels the calluses on her palm. That closeness. She could kill him easily like this, but won't. Then she leans in closer and —
Ephemera takes a sharp breath, shuddering all over. No one touches his scars. He doesn't let them, he doesn't do that. He cannot. And it hurts, suddenly. The proximity. The fact that he let it happen in the first place, that he let himself become the sort of person who would lean into a touch, who would reach out and embrace another person. He thinks of his sisters, dead in their armor. Blood on the ground, iron in the air. Thinks of CT, who handed out one final mission before he went off to the desert and died alone, no brother to watch his back. Ephemera knows he failed CT, that he cannot possibly make up the debt.
But he can avenge his brothers, his sisters. He can do that much. There's nothing else left, nothing else —
He pulls back. Puts his hands on Angela's shoulders and keeps them there, his head bowed. The words don't come and he's shivering still, shaking all over. He really ought to jerk away. Establish distance, break the moment, do something.
You are the only friend I have.
He breathes out. Squeezes her shoulder with his left hand. Not hard. Just enough to feel, to know that he's still in the moment with her. And then he lifts his head up, and takes a step back. One, then another. ]
Why...?
[ His signs are rough, his head full of knots. He shakes his head. Wonders if he should have kissed her back. If he should have shoved her away the moment she got close. And it nags at him, those questions, because he doesn't know. He doesn't know and he wants to reach out and touch her hand again, pull her close, and he cannot.
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Ephemera takes a sharp breath, shuddering all over. No one touches his scars. He doesn't let them, he doesn't do that. He cannot. And it hurts, suddenly. The proximity. The fact that he let it happen in the first place, that he let himself become the sort of person who would lean into a touch, who would reach out and embrace another person. He thinks of his sisters, dead in their armor. Blood on the ground, iron in the air. Thinks of CT, who handed out one final mission before he went off to the desert and died alone, no brother to watch his back. Ephemera knows he failed CT, that he cannot possibly make up the debt.
But he can avenge his brothers, his sisters. He can do that much. There's nothing else left, nothing else —
He pulls back. Puts his hands on Angela's shoulders and keeps them there, his head bowed. The words don't come and he's shivering still, shaking all over. He really ought to jerk away. Establish distance, break the moment, do something.
You are the only friend I have.
He breathes out. Squeezes her shoulder with his left hand. Not hard. Just enough to feel, to know that he's still in the moment with her. And then he lifts his head up, and takes a step back. One, then another. ]
Why...?
[ His signs are rough, his head full of knots. He shakes his head. Wonders if he should have kissed her back. If he should have shoved her away the moment she got close. And it nags at him, those questions, because he doesn't know. He doesn't know and he wants to reach out and touch her hand again, pull her close, and he cannot.
He cannot. ]