[ luke pulls himself up, but doesn't so much as shift until that invisible rope tugs him forward. he looks dazed, brows creased slightly, as he wonders what clarisse la rue has up her sleeve. what could be better than lying in the aftermath of a war? luke hadn't had the opportunity to feel reprieve that a storm had ceased, the dark clouds rolling away to reveal a bright, clear sky up above. he'd managed to find himself in a pocket of darkness, until he had awoken, to find the world was still as dreary as the day he had left it, but he had missed the opportunity to see it shift, ever so slightly, because of his actions, both terrible and sacrificial. it's doubt that he clings to, uncertain if he should follow clarisse, where he would've done so, years ago, if it were within the woods of the camp, with him on her heels, and her promise of danger and adventure lingering on her lips. but with the nod of her head toward the en suite, luke crab walks toward the end of the bed, feet crashing to the floor, before he places his hand in hers without hesitation. ]
[ his voice is hoarse. ] What are we doing? [ it's useless to even ask, but luke looks down at her, eyes glazed slightly, and lids half-lidded, as he glances, briefly, to the doorframe. his other hand comes to fiddle with the collar of his shirt, straightening it, as he follows her step for step toward his bathroom. ]
i resisted for a few hours.
[ his voice is hoarse. ] What are we doing? [ it's useless to even ask, but luke looks down at her, eyes glazed slightly, and lids half-lidded, as he glances, briefly, to the doorframe. his other hand comes to fiddle with the collar of his shirt, straightening it, as he follows her step for step toward his bathroom. ]