[Verso knows what he’s asking is likely unfair, especially when Messmer has so much to tend to back in his world. When his future is unknown, shaped by a purpose he needs to seek anew. But it has to be said — he would regret not speaking his intent, his wants, if he didn’t underline them now.
But even so, Messmer is so certain of his inability to grant him anything that Verso’s heart feels temporary rent in two directions: a desire to quell the sorrow that seems to shadow Messmer’s resignation of this fact, and how his own dread disappointment wells up within, hearing only a gentle rejection a second time.
The sensation of his fingertips tracing his jaw, however, makes him close his eyes. His brow pinches, too, the desire to tilt his head into that touch only overcome when Messmer makes a request of him. His gaze shutters back open, looking up at him.]
What is it…?
[If he has more to say on the matter, it can wait until he hears this.]
no subject
But even so, Messmer is so certain of his inability to grant him anything that Verso’s heart feels temporary rent in two directions: a desire to quell the sorrow that seems to shadow Messmer’s resignation of this fact, and how his own dread disappointment wells up within, hearing only a gentle rejection a second time.
The sensation of his fingertips tracing his jaw, however, makes him close his eyes. His brow pinches, too, the desire to tilt his head into that touch only overcome when Messmer makes a request of him. His gaze shutters back open, looking up at him.]
What is it…?
[If he has more to say on the matter, it can wait until he hears this.]