[ Something has changed. He can see it the moment His Majesty freezes as if time has been stolen from them, swept out to sea, set adrift where the whole of everything stops. He does not move, yet Sleipnir can see it there in the man's shoulders; it holds fast in his muscle and sinew. Something is wrong. Sleipnir's eyes crawl over his body combing every sublime inch of it. He can see no obvious evidence of the wrongness at play; nothing marring that which he holds dear. Something has been taken and Sleipnir knows not what it could be.
Only a few hours, perhaps a day, have passed since he stood by his liege lord's side. They had been awaiting Mythos at the top of the tower as the rain fell upon them in a most harmonious rhythm. Their role in this never ending dance had almost been fulfilled. Mythos had been coming unto them, finally, and so it was there they awaited in great anticipation. Watching, waiting, wanting. Hungering. Craving. Yearning-
None of this is held now deep among the bones of His Majesty's soul. Far from the reaction Sleipnir had been expecting, he too is halted where he stands and left to devour all he can glean from the man's form.
Once his liege turns and captures him so completely within his gaze Sleipnir feels a chasm open up between them and the ground caving away. But no, maybe it did not just rear it's gaping maw, perhaps it has been there for a while, crumbling, slowly growing ever more wide awaiting the day it could consume him, consume them both-
As vast as it may be Sleipnir wills it dead and gone; there are far more important things at play within these striking eyes. Suffering. More suffering impossibly here and now; pain carved on the walls of Barnabas Tharmr's soul. More pain, more strife, and something new, something born of the same mother as confusion... What could have happened in these small hours to have wrought this upon his all, his everything?
These things claw marks upon Sleipnir's heart, yet it is when Barnabas speaks he feels a fission cut across it. He knows not the emotion that runs through his liege's voice, cannot decipher it for how raw it feels. God. It has been so long since he has heard any utterance sounding so vivid from him, despite how low and quiet it may be. He has missed-
The distance is cut betwixt them before Sleipnir could give way to the gravitational pull and run to him. Barnabas saves him, and then does one better in bringing his hand up to touch him, palm to cheek.
Sleipnir tenderly presses into the hand letting himself be cradled by his gentle firmness. That feeling spreads throughout Sleipnir's entire being leaving him feeling warmly enwrapped by everything he holds dear. His eyes had slowly closed in the motion, but now he opens them to join Barnabas' once more. ]
Always, Your Majesty.
[ He may not know what has caused this disturbance within Barnabas, but he seeks to reassure him all the same. Sleipnir joins one hand softly with Barnabas' hold upon him; all the while raising his other up to press into, and move across the planes of, the other's chest. ]
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Only a few hours, perhaps a day, have passed since he stood by his liege lord's side. They had been awaiting Mythos at the top of the tower as the rain fell upon them in a most harmonious rhythm. Their role in this never ending dance had almost been fulfilled. Mythos had been coming unto them, finally, and so it was there they awaited in great anticipation. Watching, waiting, wanting. Hungering. Craving.
Yearning-None of this is held now deep among the bones of His Majesty's soul. Far from the reaction Sleipnir had been expecting, he too is halted where he stands and left to devour all he can glean from the man's form.
Once his liege turns and captures him so completely within his gaze Sleipnir feels a chasm open up between them and the ground caving away. But no, maybe it did not just rear it's gaping maw, perhaps it has been there for a while, crumbling, slowly growing ever more wide awaiting the day it could consume him,
consume them both-As vast as it may be Sleipnir wills it dead and gone; there are far more important things at play within these striking eyes. Suffering. More suffering impossibly here and now; pain carved on the walls of Barnabas Tharmr's soul. More pain, more strife, and something new, something born of the same mother as confusion... What could have happened in these small hours to have wrought this upon his all, his everything?
These things claw marks upon Sleipnir's heart, yet it is when Barnabas speaks he feels a fission cut across it. He knows not the emotion that runs through his liege's voice, cannot decipher it for how raw it feels. God. It has been so long since he has heard any utterance sounding so vivid from him, despite how low and quiet it may be.
He has missed-The distance is cut betwixt them before Sleipnir could give way to the gravitational pull and run to him. Barnabas saves him, and then does one better in bringing his hand up to touch him, palm to cheek.
Sleipnir tenderly presses into the hand letting himself be cradled by his gentle firmness. That feeling spreads throughout Sleipnir's entire being leaving him feeling warmly enwrapped by everything he holds dear. His eyes had slowly closed in the motion, but now he opens them to join Barnabas' once more. ]
Always, Your Majesty.
[ He may not know what has caused this disturbance within Barnabas, but he seeks to reassure him all the same. Sleipnir joins one hand softly with Barnabas' hold upon him; all the while raising his other up to press into, and move across the planes of, the other's chest. ]