[ wouldn't have thought that a prince would be hunted in his own palace, cornered and made voiceless by a man who should have offered him comfort and protection after the death of his father and brother. of course not. laurent ignores aspen's comment, his eyes consumed by white, his fingers still nestled in the softest feathers he's ever touched.
he doesn't remember ever feeling this warm before, not in recent years. in fleeting moments with damen, perhaps, before the twist of the knife in his gut each time to remind him of who he really was. laurent has never been able to relax to this point. he doesn't know what's come over him now. ]
What does it feel like? [ a quiet murmur. genuine curiosity, for someone who doesn't engage in any sort of touch by choice, and certainly nothing like this. ]
no subject
he doesn't remember ever feeling this warm before, not in recent years. in fleeting moments with damen, perhaps, before the twist of the knife in his gut each time to remind him of who he really was. laurent has never been able to relax to this point. he doesn't know what's come over him now. ]
What does it feel like? [ a quiet murmur. genuine curiosity, for someone who doesn't engage in any sort of touch by choice, and certainly nothing like this. ]