[it's a long time before Vincent looks up at the other boy, let alone forms a response. he's perusing through the contents of the book with a thorough interest that was likely surprising, given his nature - or perhaps it wasn't in this case. the familiarly named plant seemed to have far more research put into it than anything else.
for the first time in what feels an eternity, he neither knows how to feel nor can he muster up the desire to be angry at his confusion. nothing rankled him more than being placed in a box - especially one that was essentially of his own making, with walls created from truths. but there was such care, almost tenderness, in these notes that he couldn't help feeling something else tugging in his chest.
never in his life had he been seen as clearly as the words describing some foreign blossom. it was something that he always thought he'd react to violently, but strangely enough he found that when it was Kit behind those sharp eyes it felt almost...comforting.
after several years' worth of silence, he finally looks up at the other teen now seated on his bed. there's no possible way to read his expression.]
Seems a little lopsided to me.
[when he wanted something Vincent was always blunt and direct. but in this moment he isn't completely certain that he's interpreting things correctly, and so he's resorted to this cat and mouse game of intention obtuseness and riddles. he needed something small and vague to begin working his way to the point, something that would allow him to back down at the first sign of trouble.]
I'M WITH THEM BUT I DON'T KNOW WHERE THE FUCK YOU ARE
for the first time in what feels an eternity, he neither knows how to feel nor can he muster up the desire to be angry at his confusion. nothing rankled him more than being placed in a box - especially one that was essentially of his own making, with walls created from truths. but there was such care, almost tenderness, in these notes that he couldn't help feeling something else tugging in his chest.
never in his life had he been seen as clearly as the words describing some foreign blossom. it was something that he always thought he'd react to violently, but strangely enough he found that when it was Kit behind those sharp eyes it felt almost...comforting.
after several years' worth of silence, he finally looks up at the other teen now seated on his bed. there's no possible way to read his expression.]
Seems a little lopsided to me.
[when he wanted something Vincent was always blunt and direct. but in this moment he isn't completely certain that he's interpreting things correctly, and so he's resorted to this cat and mouse game of intention obtuseness and riddles. he needed something small and vague to begin working his way to the point, something that would allow him to back down at the first sign of trouble.]