[Felix keeps talking, explaining, theorizing, but it filters in as nothing more than white noise as Dimitri looks down at himself.]
[It had occurred to him, distantly, that nothing had broken lately. Sometimes, he had felt as though he was tiring perhaps easier than he should have, but, well... he had started to chalk that up as simply paying mind to his body again, and realizing all the work and wear he had put it through. He so often feels disconnected from his body, so he...]
[He swallows, thickly, feeling as though he's trying to ingest a rock. Tentatively, fearing this may be some sort of dream, he tightens his grip on the wooden lance he has in his hand.]
[In Faerghus, just the slightest twitch of his hands, a tightening of his fingers to not lose his grip, a too fast or two powerful swing... That would have shattered many a metal weapon. Dimitri knows that all too well.]
[But the wooden lance remains whole.]
[The world suddenly seems dizzying, vast, and Dimitri just keeps staring down at the simple wooden lance that does not break. He doesn't know when he drags his gaze up to look at Felix, only that he does it, and once he sees him, once he sees him...]
[Dimitri drops his lance to the snow, doesn't think twice about it. All he can think about is striding over to Felix, reaching out for him- ]
[He can't remember the last time he was allowed to hug someone, and not worry about killing them. He can't remember ever being allowed to hold Felix like this, tight and close to his chest, his face buried in that beautiful dark hair made wet by the falling snow.]
no subject
[It had occurred to him, distantly, that nothing had broken lately. Sometimes, he had felt as though he was tiring perhaps easier than he should have, but, well... he had started to chalk that up as simply paying mind to his body again, and realizing all the work and wear he had put it through. He so often feels disconnected from his body, so he...]
[He swallows, thickly, feeling as though he's trying to ingest a rock. Tentatively, fearing this may be some sort of dream, he tightens his grip on the wooden lance he has in his hand.]
[In Faerghus, just the slightest twitch of his hands, a tightening of his fingers to not lose his grip, a too fast or two powerful swing... That would have shattered many a metal weapon. Dimitri knows that all too well.]
[But the wooden lance remains whole.]
[The world suddenly seems dizzying, vast, and Dimitri just keeps staring down at the simple wooden lance that does not break. He doesn't know when he drags his gaze up to look at Felix, only that he does it, and once he sees him, once he sees him...]
[Dimitri drops his lance to the snow, doesn't think twice about it. All he can think about is striding over to Felix, reaching out for him- ]
[He can't remember the last time he was allowed to hug someone, and not worry about killing them. He can't remember ever being allowed to hold Felix like this, tight and close to his chest, his face buried in that beautiful dark hair made wet by the falling snow.]