[from the moment they'd painted his body, matt has had nothing but the pull to guide him. when her fingers thread through his, he still isn't sure what happens next — but he does know that they're soft. warm. it's a warmth that seems to seep into his skin, beyond what simple body heat would ordinarily do; in the moment, it feels right.
enough so, at least, that a small smile tugs at one of the corners of his mouth.]
Yeah. [voice quiet, raspy, he nods.] I feel it.
[he gives her hand a gentle squeeze, and that warmth, against the night air, feels like even more of a relief. even so, that pull is hardly settled; it's as if something is whispering at the back of his mind that he knows what his purpose is, and that he shouldn't fight it.
(it feels good, certainty, after his world has collapsed, just like midland circle.)
still, before he takes one more step, he finds the wherewithal to ask,]
no subject
enough so, at least, that a small smile tugs at one of the corners of his mouth.]
Yeah. [voice quiet, raspy, he nods.] I feel it.
[he gives her hand a gentle squeeze, and that warmth, against the night air, feels like even more of a relief. even so, that pull is hardly settled; it's as if something is whispering at the back of his mind that he knows what his purpose is, and that he shouldn't fight it.
(it feels good, certainty, after his world has collapsed, just like midland circle.)
still, before he takes one more step, he finds the wherewithal to ask,]
Is this okay, Greer?
[because she should have that say, regardless.]