(The scent he memorizes is something he thinks he'll never forget even were they to be forced apart though some part of his heart tightens within his chest at the idea. The warmth of it, the forest and ocean he takes in without a wish to ever let go of such imagery before he feels her hand making it's way toward his neck first before settling against his cheek. He leans gently into it; quiet as ever with him relaxing as she speaks up upon deciding that she did deserve the right to see it.
Though his eye is scarred and blind, he hides it for the sake of others not feeling uncomfortable even if it wasn't that bad off. Not anymore than it could be.
He's quiet. But he nods, the intensity of mutual feelings seems there as unaware as they both are about the line they are so delicately on.) ....you may, Caoimhe. (He'll show her his eye then, like the clouded sky that it can be compared to in a difference to his own remaining sky blue one that looks deep into her own. They aren't their roles here. Not a single bit in how they find themselves no longer paying attention to reality nor to the fact they're locked away in such a small space that they cannot say they'd be found in so easily.
The eye beneath the thumb she presses slightly against is closed; but for a moment flutters partly against it from beneath the thick leather of it. With scars exposed and rough skin before her eyes, he waits, once the eyepatch is removed he slowly opens the eye beneath it. Murky and blind. The lid of it scarred down to his cheek though just enough that the eyepatch itself had covered it. Both eyes now were upon hers, clouded sky and blue sky itself without him daring pull away.
He stayed.
If they lean any closer, nearer, could he control himself? Would he be able to if she wants that? He isn't going to overstep such boundaries no matter how much his heart drums louder, faster, wanting and craving. He assumes that for now were they to cross the line that he'd want it to be mutual; he wants her comfortable too, as he begins now to think he should go about this with enough care knowing his inexperience in such things that isn't from books he once read in his youth.)
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Though his eye is scarred and blind, he hides it for the sake of others not feeling uncomfortable even if it wasn't that bad off. Not anymore than it could be.
He's quiet. But he nods, the intensity of mutual feelings seems there as unaware as they both are about the line they are so delicately on.) ....you may, Caoimhe. (He'll show her his eye then, like the clouded sky that it can be compared to in a difference to his own remaining sky blue one that looks deep into her own. They aren't their roles here. Not a single bit in how they find themselves no longer paying attention to reality nor to the fact they're locked away in such a small space that they cannot say they'd be found in so easily.
The eye beneath the thumb she presses slightly against is closed; but for a moment flutters partly against it from beneath the thick leather of it. With scars exposed and rough skin before her eyes, he waits, once the eyepatch is removed he slowly opens the eye beneath it. Murky and blind. The lid of it scarred down to his cheek though just enough that the eyepatch itself had covered it. Both eyes now were upon hers, clouded sky and blue sky itself without him daring pull away.
He stayed.
If they lean any closer, nearer, could he control himself? Would he be able to if she wants that? He isn't going to overstep such boundaries no matter how much his heart drums louder, faster, wanting and craving. He assumes that for now were they to cross the line that he'd want it to be mutual; he wants her comfortable too, as he begins now to think he should go about this with enough care knowing his inexperience in such things that isn't from books he once read in his youth.)
....how does it look then, if I may ask?