( it hurts more than he thought it would, honestly. he'd imagined the pain of waking up in a bed alone would've been his greatest heartbreak, but seeing juno here, wounded and sick, and being incapable of helping him feels stifling, feels worse than any prior ache. he longs for him. or maybe he just longs for an easier time, where juno could look at peter and not cross his features with anguish, or when peter could make some sort of tease and see the sharp lines of juno's shoulders silently relax. it's different, now -- complicated is a good word for it. peter's used to being confident and aware, but he feels the tingling of self-doubt curdle his belly, feeling just as sick as juno says.
it'd be easy to say they don't have time for this. there's a whole war going on out there that peter has no intention to fight for, regardless of the safety of worlds and mars, and whatever incentive is supposed to will them into fighting. peter doesn't care about mars. he is not the blindly heroic one out of the two of them. peter cares about juno, and if juno is safe, then that's all that matters. even if he isn't ... it's not really his responsibility anymore, is it?
that's funny. as if juno could be in trouble and peter wouldn't come to his rescue. as if juno could say he feels sick, and peter could just let that be.
his steps forward are a little more measured, more careful, his heels hardly making a sound. he nods his head to the flanking walls of the corridor, offering a hand, should juno need help. )
You should sit. ( he offers a short, mostly fake smile. ) At least this situation is a little bit better than the last time I saw you covered in blood, hm? Now that I've got free range, I can go ... find something to clean you up with. I think I saw basins of water further in. You'll feel better when you're clean.
( pointedly. ignoring the elephant in the room. it's much easier to deny than to talk.
junod seems a little bit taken with dahliad -- a bit smaller, but no less nurturing. flying from peter's shoulder, it rubs its black head on the underside of dahliad's chin, attempting to clean with its feathers.
no subject
it'd be easy to say they don't have time for this. there's a whole war going on out there that peter has no intention to fight for, regardless of the safety of worlds and mars, and whatever incentive is supposed to will them into fighting. peter doesn't care about mars. he is not the blindly heroic one out of the two of them. peter cares about juno, and if juno is safe, then that's all that matters. even if he isn't ... it's not really his responsibility anymore, is it?
that's funny. as if juno could be in trouble and peter wouldn't come to his rescue. as if juno could say he feels sick, and peter could just let that be.
his steps forward are a little more measured, more careful, his heels hardly making a sound. he nods his head to the flanking walls of the corridor, offering a hand, should juno need help. )
You should sit. ( he offers a short, mostly fake smile. ) At least this situation is a little bit better than the last time I saw you covered in blood, hm? Now that I've got free range, I can go ... find something to clean you up with. I think I saw basins of water further in. You'll feel better when you're clean.
( pointedly. ignoring the elephant in the room. it's much easier to deny than to talk.
junod seems a little bit taken with dahliad -- a bit smaller, but no less nurturing. flying from peter's shoulder, it rubs its black head on the underside of dahliad's chin, attempting to clean with its feathers.
it's not that easy, junod. )