I don't know. It's possible that I'm a defective model. [ He offers a thin smile, but there's an inkling of belief there, and it doesn't help that he's separated himself from any others of his kind. Navigating this side of himself with no positive guidance had been a grisly, drawn-out process, each full moon worse than the last until he'd developed a strong sense of fear and hatred toward it.
He brings his eyes back at the feel of his fingertips against his chest, and he softens very slightly and shakes his head at the compliment as if Vrenille has said something foolish but endearing. That easy smile is distracting, and he's just the right amount of tired to want to fall into it, but his next question throws him off guard in the worst way. His gaze stays locked, but his suspicions are immediately piqued; despite how he doesn't move away from him, the size of the wall between them has just doubled. ]
Why do you ask? [ It's a complicated answer, his personal history so intertwined with the founder of The Factory that he might as well have a stake in it himself. But he doesn't, because at the end of the day, no matter how close they are, he's still under a binding contract. The only thing his history gets him is a possible pardon from death. It doesn't grant him freedom.
His eyes are steady, challenging, adopting a sharp edge to his gaze. There's no need for this, not really. They could continue to exist in this bubble of comfort and safety, and a large part of him wants to, a rare indulgence in an otherwise taxing existence, but he doesn't like to feel cornered. ] This should not be important to you, so why do you ask?
no subject
He brings his eyes back at the feel of his fingertips against his chest, and he softens very slightly and shakes his head at the compliment as if Vrenille has said something foolish but endearing. That easy smile is distracting, and he's just the right amount of tired to want to fall into it, but his next question throws him off guard in the worst way. His gaze stays locked, but his suspicions are immediately piqued; despite how he doesn't move away from him, the size of the wall between them has just doubled. ]
Why do you ask? [ It's a complicated answer, his personal history so intertwined with the founder of The Factory that he might as well have a stake in it himself. But he doesn't, because at the end of the day, no matter how close they are, he's still under a binding contract. The only thing his history gets him is a possible pardon from death. It doesn't grant him freedom.
His eyes are steady, challenging, adopting a sharp edge to his gaze. There's no need for this, not really. They could continue to exist in this bubble of comfort and safety, and a large part of him wants to, a rare indulgence in an otherwise taxing existence, but he doesn't like to feel cornered. ] This should not be important to you, so why do you ask?