[The moment the sobs start coming out, he regrets it, a look of alarm flitting over his face.
And yet. Regret is the absolute violin-string of pity. It's keening so hard and so fast in him right now. Just eh sheer heights of that feeling are amazing.
And you can't share in that. You can't, with how pent in you are. You can't even bring yourself to scream. There's just something so heart-wrenchingly pathetic about all of it.
He's a descendant of the high subjuggulators. he shouldn't be submitted to this sort of thing. Beyond it. Diametrically, at once, he feels unworthy of it, and admiring of the lowly vessel inspiring it. (While some dim, whimsical voice tries to speak in the back of his mind, tries to say something important...loosens his hands...)
Gamzee leans forward and kisses Tavros. Lightly. So lightly it's just a ghost of the stick of paint on skin before he draws back, releasing his hand, and smoothing at Tavros's hair. The pity on his face is absolutely undisguised by now, sorrowful.
To think you're that enslaved. It makes him so angry. His voice is rough, and hoarse, the shout cracking in a few places, his breathing heavy.]
[And he holds your face in his hands, pressing your foreheads together, before he squeezes his eyes shut. The honks deepen for a moment, staccato out,his shoulders shaking. It takes a while before the motions are even distinguishable as sobs. Not long after the honks rise into another roar.]
[No sooner does he finish this roar, than he darts another kiss. No warning. Indigo tears on the painted white of his face. Another brief flash.]
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timeasmymeasure
Ahahaa. Both of us. What are the chances. Three hours for me, none for you. WE NEED TO STOP BEING KK
Date: 2011-11-25 06:38 am (UTC)And yet.
Regret is the absolute violin-string of pity.
It's keening so hard and so fast in him right now.
Just eh sheer heights of that feeling are amazing.
And you can't share in that. You can't, with how pent in you are. You can't even bring yourself to scream. There's just something so heart-wrenchingly pathetic about all of it.
He's a descendant of the high subjuggulators. he shouldn't be submitted to this sort of thing. Beyond it. Diametrically, at once, he feels unworthy of it, and admiring of the lowly vessel inspiring it. (While some dim, whimsical voice tries to speak in the back of his mind, tries to say something important...loosens his hands...)
Gamzee leans forward and kisses Tavros.
Lightly. So lightly it's just a ghost of the stick of paint on skin before he draws back, releasing his hand, and smoothing at Tavros's hair. The pity on his face is absolutely undisguised by now, sorrowful.
To think you're that enslaved. It makes him so angry. His voice is rough, and hoarse, the shout cracking in a few places, his breathing heavy.]
[And he holds your face in his hands, pressing your foreheads together, before he squeezes his eyes shut. The honks deepen for a moment, staccato out,his shoulders shaking. It takes a while before the motions are even distinguishable as sobs. Not long after the honks rise into another roar.]
[No sooner does he finish this roar, than he darts another kiss. No warning. Indigo tears on the painted white of his face. Another brief flash.]