[ luke rolls to his side, his free arm coming to rest beneath his cheek on the pillow. he's not quite sure what to do now, what with his anger and his confusion having dissipated just by clarisse's touch. he feels weirdly exposed, as if his entire body is his achilles heel, but he doesn't make a move to cover himself up — not yet. he thinks he can trust her within this moment. clarisse has the ability to split the toughest man open with a simple blunt nail. she hasn't done so with him yet, but he thinks she has, in some way, for luke no longer feels the loathing bubble beneath his chest when he thinks of how quiet his life has become. ]
[ it's odd to think that clarisse la rue, the girl with a chip on her shoulder when it comes to him, had seen him fit to see her at her most vulnerable. or, perhaps, at her strongest. she's always been an attractive girl; the anger had always made her eyes brighter, her mouth firmer, and her stance intimidating as hera herself. but he finds himself thinking of her as beautiful after seeing her for who she truly is. and what that is — he's not quite sure. besides the usual label of warrior that goes along with clarisse, he finds that her soft edges can still cut, but perhaps her blades aren't there to simply slice a man open to make him bleed to death. ]
So. [ luke laughs. he moves again, uncomfortable with how restless he is with anxiety. he flattens himself onto his stomach, but keeps his head tilted in her direction. the hand in hers is no longer slack, his thumb coming to brush over the back of her hand absently. ] This is kind of weird. [ his gaze travels away from her face, slipping beneath her neck to settle on her collarbone. she's red in patches all over her skin; he feels a little guilty for it, marking her, but he thinks she'll wear it as a badge of honour, something about slaying the great beast of luke castellan. ]
[ or maybe just slaying luke castellan. ]
I wasn't expecting this when you punched me earlier.
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[ it's odd to think that clarisse la rue, the girl with a chip on her shoulder when it comes to him, had seen him fit to see her at her most vulnerable. or, perhaps, at her strongest. she's always been an attractive girl; the anger had always made her eyes brighter, her mouth firmer, and her stance intimidating as hera herself. but he finds himself thinking of her as beautiful after seeing her for who she truly is. and what that is — he's not quite sure. besides the usual label of warrior that goes along with clarisse, he finds that her soft edges can still cut, but perhaps her blades aren't there to simply slice a man open to make him bleed to death. ]
So. [ luke laughs. he moves again, uncomfortable with how restless he is with anxiety. he flattens himself onto his stomach, but keeps his head tilted in her direction. the hand in hers is no longer slack, his thumb coming to brush over the back of her hand absently. ] This is kind of weird. [ his gaze travels away from her face, slipping beneath her neck to settle on her collarbone. she's red in patches all over her skin; he feels a little guilty for it, marking her, but he thinks she'll wear it as a badge of honour, something about slaying the great beast of luke castellan. ]
[ or maybe just slaying luke castellan. ]
I wasn't expecting this when you punched me earlier.