You don't need to convince me, I believe you, [said with a crooked little grin that brightens his eyes even in the poor lighting, because he's clearly trying not to laugh at such an earnest declaration. it hadn't occurred to him to doubt that Huaisang's work would be beautiful, because he's seen the beauty that he can create with a brush in hand and inks at his disposal. ...ink that has now left little smudges of colour on Huaisang's cheekbones and above the soft curve of his eyebrow.
it takes him another moment to realize that he's staring--gazing--and sheepishly drops his eyes back to the floor, before chancing another glance up again. El and Eda, if he'd always been like this, no wonder the Fool had been so wounded by his short-sightedness, no wonder... well. what was it Nighteyes was always telling him about gnawing at the past's bones? besides 'stop it,' of course. hasn't Fitz earned the right to let those old wounds heal? perhaps this is the first step of many he'll take down that path, if he can just steady his nerves enough to say what he wants to say.
he adjusts his posture where he sits and clears his throat, scratches at his beard briefly, and begins with a succinct and very clever-sounding,] Huaisang, there's something I've been meaning to--[no, that's not the right way to go about it. he stops himself, grimacing, and tries again with an ineffectual little gesture with one hand. (so much for not fidgeting.)] That is to say, I've been thinking, [he begins, slowly.]
Clearly not, [comes Nighteyes' drowsily unhelpful contribution, an eddy of affectionate and acerbic warmth through both their minds, as he stretches to make himself more comfortable on the floor. Fitz shoots him a flat look of displeasure, face flush with embarrassment, because thanks for that.]
Nighteyes..! [well that's taken the wind out of his sails a bit. Fitz glances self-consciously Huaisang's way again, then aside, and then pushes a hand through his already messy hair as an outlet for the nervous energy his first interrupted attempt at a confession has left him to manage.]
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You don't need to convince me, I believe you, [said with a crooked little grin that brightens his eyes even in the poor lighting, because he's clearly trying not to laugh at such an earnest declaration. it hadn't occurred to him to doubt that Huaisang's work would be beautiful, because he's seen the beauty that he can create with a brush in hand and inks at his disposal. ...ink that has now left little smudges of colour on Huaisang's cheekbones and above the soft curve of his eyebrow.
it takes him another moment to realize that he's staring--gazing--and sheepishly drops his eyes back to the floor, before chancing another glance up again. El and Eda, if he'd always been like this, no wonder the Fool had been so wounded by his short-sightedness, no wonder... well. what was it Nighteyes was always telling him about gnawing at the past's bones? besides 'stop it,' of course. hasn't Fitz earned the right to let those old wounds heal? perhaps this is the first step of many he'll take down that path, if he can just steady his nerves enough to say what he wants to say.
he adjusts his posture where he sits and clears his throat, scratches at his beard briefly, and begins with a succinct and very clever-sounding,] Huaisang, there's something I've been meaning to--[no, that's not the right way to go about it. he stops himself, grimacing, and tries again with an ineffectual little gesture with one hand. (so much for not fidgeting.)] That is to say, I've been thinking, [he begins, slowly.]
Clearly not, [comes Nighteyes' drowsily unhelpful contribution, an eddy of affectionate and acerbic warmth through both their minds, as he stretches to make himself more comfortable on the floor. Fitz shoots him a flat look of displeasure, face flush with embarrassment, because thanks for that.]
Nighteyes..! [well that's taken the wind out of his sails a bit. Fitz glances self-consciously Huaisang's way again, then aside, and then pushes a hand through his already messy hair as an outlet for the nervous energy his first interrupted attempt at a confession has left him to manage.]