In a quick motion, he hides himself behind the broad trunk of a palm tree, pressing his back against it as his head tips backward. Bark grazes the crown of his head as he stares intently up at the fronds overhead, peers through the slats in the leaves until he’s practically glaring at the sky. Calm, calm. His heart is pounding a mile a minute.
Why?
Well.
Just behind him, encircled by palm trees, is a large pond. A modest waterfall disturbs its surface and it’s not uncommon for some to come here to drink or bathe, but he just thought—he’d never seen—
What are you getting bent out of shape for?! he demands of himself mentally, glowering upward. He takes a deep breath and dares to cock his head, peering through some of his hair, around the trunk. There’s a figure wading into the water slowly, carefully, as though it’s cooler than they were expecting.
Lial, of course. There’s no other human on this island. Besides, Luceme is all-too-aware of him now, can recognise that slightly messy dark hair anywhere. He chews a corner of his mouth and wonders if he just ought to greet him. It’s not like it’s strange for them to encounter each other here—they’re both men. It’s not a big deal.
It shouldn’t be.
However, that arrests him in place. Luceme has never seen Lial without his clothes before, never, so he’s never gotten to see it. Covering almost the entirety of his left leg, up over his hip and stopping just above, is what looks to be one enormous scar. The skin is darkened, a much darker brown than Luceme’s ever seen and, when he watches… Lial seems to move that leg almost gingerly.
As he watches, Lial occasionally drops one of his hands down to place on the dark, scarred flesh, curling behind his knee as though to help it move over stones at the bottom of the pond. Luceme frantically wracks his brain: has he ever moved like that before? He hadn’t paid enough attention. He’d have to watch from now on. Would he?
He doesn’t know what to make of it.
The first thing that comes to mind is where did you get that? because it’s not like the occasional nicks or scratches that leave pale scars that fade over time. No. That looks to be much less an accident.
However, Luceme has no idea where it might have come from.
It’s not like he really knows that much about where Lial came from. He palms some of his hair off of his forehead with a troubled frown, wrapping it around his fingers and giving it a tug, as though to punish himself. He knows it’s a city. He knows it’s larger than the island. He knows that there aren’t that many kind people…
In that case… a person? Can he assume that?
Luceme peeks again. Lial is stretching himself, unguarded, making his way slowly to the waterfall, until he can stick his head underneath its cascade. He almost disappears entirely, slight as he is. And he is slight, too slight, not filled out in the ways that someone should, with arms and legs too slim, a too-narrow waist, ribs faintly visible. Luceme raises his hand to his mouth, working his knuckles just under his lower lip, trying to pick Lial out from the spray.
I guess I’d have to ask him about it.
He knows that that is a difficult task in itself. How many times has he asked questions just for Lial to shrug them off with an easy smile or to change the subject around on him. At the time he hadn’t cared as much, but he finds that changing as the days go on. It can’t be helped. After all, Lial just wormed himself right into Luceme’s life, so Luceme should know these things.
They’re… friends, right? Right.
It’s not the same kind of friendship that he has with Balm. After all, Balm practically sleeps all of his days away and just patiently listens to whatever Luceme says with an untroubled smile. That guy wouldn’t know trouble if it came and kicked him right in his root feet. Hmmmph.
Lial, though. Lial.
Luceme pushes off of the tree carefully, mindful of the bushes nearby. He doesn’t know why he feels like he has to slip away from here without saying anything, but he does. Somehow, he feels as though he just helped himself to a secret that hadn’t been freely given.
It leaves a bad taste in his mouth.
Lial’s more important than that, he thinks as he scrubs the back of his hand against his mouth and stares down at the ground, picking his way carefully over earth and avoiding spots that will make unneeded noise.
→ lial • luceme
In a quick motion, he hides himself behind the broad trunk of a palm tree, pressing his back against it as his head tips backward. Bark grazes the crown of his head as he stares intently up at the fronds overhead, peers through the slats in the leaves until he’s practically glaring at the sky. Calm, calm. His heart is pounding a mile a minute.
Why?
Well.
Just behind him, encircled by palm trees, is a large pond. A modest waterfall disturbs its surface and it’s not uncommon for some to come here to drink or bathe, but he just thought—he’d never seen—
What are you getting bent out of shape for?! he demands of himself mentally, glowering upward. He takes a deep breath and dares to cock his head, peering through some of his hair, around the trunk. There’s a figure wading into the water slowly, carefully, as though it’s cooler than they were expecting.
Lial, of course. There’s no other human on this island. Besides, Luceme is all-too-aware of him now, can recognise that slightly messy dark hair anywhere. He chews a corner of his mouth and wonders if he just ought to greet him. It’s not like it’s strange for them to encounter each other here—they’re both men. It’s not a big deal.
It shouldn’t be.
However, that arrests him in place. Luceme has never seen Lial without his clothes before, never, so he’s never gotten to see it. Covering almost the entirety of his left leg, up over his hip and stopping just above, is what looks to be one enormous scar. The skin is darkened, a much darker brown than Luceme’s ever seen and, when he watches… Lial seems to move that leg almost gingerly.
As he watches, Lial occasionally drops one of his hands down to place on the dark, scarred flesh, curling behind his knee as though to help it move over stones at the bottom of the pond. Luceme frantically wracks his brain: has he ever moved like that before? He hadn’t paid enough attention. He’d have to watch from now on. Would he?
He doesn’t know what to make of it.
The first thing that comes to mind is where did you get that? because it’s not like the occasional nicks or scratches that leave pale scars that fade over time. No. That looks to be much less an accident.
However, Luceme has no idea where it might have come from.
It’s not like he really knows that much about where Lial came from. He palms some of his hair off of his forehead with a troubled frown, wrapping it around his fingers and giving it a tug, as though to punish himself. He knows it’s a city. He knows it’s larger than the island. He knows that there aren’t that many kind people…
In that case… a person? Can he assume that?
Luceme peeks again. Lial is stretching himself, unguarded, making his way slowly to the waterfall, until he can stick his head underneath its cascade. He almost disappears entirely, slight as he is. And he is slight, too slight, not filled out in the ways that someone should, with arms and legs too slim, a too-narrow waist, ribs faintly visible. Luceme raises his hand to his mouth, working his knuckles just under his lower lip, trying to pick Lial out from the spray.
I guess I’d have to ask him about it.
He knows that that is a difficult task in itself. How many times has he asked questions just for Lial to shrug them off with an easy smile or to change the subject around on him. At the time he hadn’t cared as much, but he finds that changing as the days go on. It can’t be helped. After all, Lial just wormed himself right into Luceme’s life, so Luceme should know these things.
They’re… friends, right? Right.
It’s not the same kind of friendship that he has with Balm. After all, Balm practically sleeps all of his days away and just patiently listens to whatever Luceme says with an untroubled smile. That guy wouldn’t know trouble if it came and kicked him right in his root feet. Hmmmph.
Lial, though. Lial.
Luceme pushes off of the tree carefully, mindful of the bushes nearby. He doesn’t know why he feels like he has to slip away from here without saying anything, but he does. Somehow, he feels as though he just helped himself to a secret that hadn’t been freely given.
It leaves a bad taste in his mouth.
Lial’s more important than that, he thinks as he scrubs the back of his hand against his mouth and stares down at the ground, picking his way carefully over earth and avoiding spots that will make unneeded noise.
Lial’s special.