About temples it rises, gentle throb of pain like a feather running along the seam of the skull, constant pressure building up within. Within it, entangled threads of thought swirling about him, pulling at him as it seeks broken attention, memories given a sharp edge. All is laid bare upon dark features as night had settled upon the first night, shuddering breath escaping as he looked towards Bucky – his brother, one he trusted and yet – seeking guidance. The want was there, words burning within a throat unable to give voice any as they rose in fragmented sounds, whimpers and sobs breaking through until all he could do was seek warmth and comfort in him.

Never alone, following steps as though he were but a shadow tethered to the Warden, creak of each marking his passing. It is better this way, never allowing solitude to sneak up upon him, curved talons ever reaching, only one moment needed. In a way it had been a pleasant experience though never could the words arise of how his heart pounded, felt as though it might crack through ribs skin pressed against. Nor might he permit the other to see the tears, wet tracks drawn across sunken cheeks when Harland knew well he was caught in the depth of sleep, silent though the small body shook. Odd mix was it, this sense of fear and longing, a want for those left behind but tempered by a worry to their response if he dared allowed himself to face them.

When the possibility of venturing beyond the walls, safety he had come to know well and greatly enjoy, some part of him never seeking to leave it, surprise had twisted soft features, golden eyes widening. Seconds passed, mind working through thoughts that tumbled about with no direction, before he was moving. About the other arms had wound, reaching as high as he might, soft noises of agreement his only answer. Tense had the child been during the wait, moving about Bucky's home with a slight skip within each step, allowing himself a brief moment to hope.

Eyes moved up, touched upon features familiar as those he bore and upon his own lips smile took hold. Excitement had waned until it was worry which had touched him, kept close to Bucky as his gaze had darted about. Everything was different, the structures about moving gently and the soft chatter of those around spoken in dialect odd to him, baring tones and accents he found intriguing but to a degree grated. Moving closer he sought to press against his leg, needing the contact of one he knew in this place, offering a gentle sound in answer.