no subject

[ dextera takes a deep breath and exhales this one out even slower, like he’s getting ready to march to his death. regardless, he does it, bringing himself first to a sitting position and then just as unhappily drawing himself to his feet. the back of his robes are now stained, but it just serves to match his front—dirtied with swipes of his fingers from all sorts of sources. ]

…

[ inevitably, his eyes dart briefly to his ‘rescuer’s’ animal ears, and then just as quickly away… and then elsewhere, and again back to the forest. he can’t keep his eyes in one spot for long, but it’s clear where he’s really yearning to look around. ]