I THINK IT'S TIME THAT
YOU CRAWL BACK HOME SON
YOU CRAWL BACK HOME SON
The idea of a peaceful life has always been foreign to him, and yet… it seemed as if they had settled into something at least reminiscent of such a thing in Delumine. He spends his days tucked away in corners of the library, teaching himself how to read amongst the leather-bound volumes, or sprawled out in the patches of sunlight next to the desk Sam had claimed as his own; it is quiet, and exactly the opposite of what he had ever pictured for himself when he had thought about his future as a young man.
Truthfully, he had never thought he would survive this long, much less be able to sink into what felt like retirement.
The problem becomes, of course, the simple fact that he has never been particularly adept at idling around all day, of living without a purpose in his life. Even starving out in the desert, there had been some sense of motivation, a need to search out food and water to survive; here, his needs are met easily, and he finds himself unchallenged.
(Or, perhaps, facing down his greatest challenge; the very remaking of his being, the restructuring of every trauma that has crafted him into the person he is. He is trying, at least, even if learning to be gentle and to not immediately react with a snarl and a snap of teeth feels as though it goes against fiber of his body.
It feels vulnerable.
He’s not sure yet whether or not it will be bearable in the long term. For Sam, it might be.)
Either way, he had been quick to agree to an adventure, to agree to anything that would set them free from the library -- expansive though it may be, it still felt confining compared to the wide-open desert and the winding paths of the canyons.
“Sure you are,” He grumbles good-naturedly, and his eye gleams just a little too much before he nips at his lover’s heels, snorting out a soft laugh.
“Admit it, Sam, you’re lost.”
Truthfully, he had never thought he would survive this long, much less be able to sink into what felt like retirement.
The problem becomes, of course, the simple fact that he has never been particularly adept at idling around all day, of living without a purpose in his life. Even starving out in the desert, there had been some sense of motivation, a need to search out food and water to survive; here, his needs are met easily, and he finds himself unchallenged.
(Or, perhaps, facing down his greatest challenge; the very remaking of his being, the restructuring of every trauma that has crafted him into the person he is. He is trying, at least, even if learning to be gentle and to not immediately react with a snarl and a snap of teeth feels as though it goes against fiber of his body.
It feels vulnerable.
He’s not sure yet whether or not it will be bearable in the long term. For Sam, it might be.)
Either way, he had been quick to agree to an adventure, to agree to anything that would set them free from the library -- expansive though it may be, it still felt confining compared to the wide-open desert and the winding paths of the canyons.
“Sure you are,” He grumbles good-naturedly, and his eye gleams just a little too much before he nips at his lover’s heels, snorting out a soft laugh.
“Admit it, Sam, you’re lost.”
@Jetsam
