better than fiction // sephiroth

[sephiroth]

SEPHIROTH

MALE — ROSEBLOODS — PHARAOH — HOVER FOR TAGS

[div style="background-color: #292727; color: white; font-family: arial; font-size: 12px; letter-spacing: 1px; text-align: justify; overflow: auto; width: 500px; height: 340px; padding: 10px;"]Sephiroth's brow furrowed slightly at the news of departure, though his expression quickly softened at the reasoning.  He supposed it was understandable.  The lion was about to speak, to respond, but Bai Shi continued on.  About emotions.  About confession.  About love aimed at him.

Sephiroth would pause for a decent amount of time, feeling his chest tighten and his eyes flicker up to met the dragon's.  He dare not speak, his mouth open slightly despite the fact.  He mentally searched for words, for Mother, but found himself alone in his mind.  Just when he needed guidance, he couldn't find any.  All he had was his own emotion and mind to work with.

The silvery lion's posture was very obviously relaxed in the presence of Bai Shi, and his voice was softer around them as well.  Sephiroth enjoyed the serpent's company more then possibly anybody in the group, and he felt strange warmth in his stomach whenever he settled his gaze on them and spoke to them gently.  The solo rescue mission he had embarked on to rescue the Vizier and his reaction to physical contact from them was enough proof of the lion's emotions towards Bai Shi.  Vocalizing them though....he wasn't sure how to.

In lieu of words, Sephiroth would take a few steps foreword and gently press his forehead against the golden scales of the dragon as his luminous eyes fluttered closed, his mannerisms made in a ginger fashion as if he wasn't sure of what he was doing, or if he was afraid of a negative reaction.  He exhaled deeply, calmly, centering.  As if to assure himself, keeping himself from being overwhelmed with emotion.  He couldn't stop that positive and misty feeling through his body however, warm and pleasant in his chest.

"...Where will you be going?"  Sephiroth's voice was a soft murmur, suddenly sounding much smaller then his usual confident and proud tone.  He remained in his vulnerable position, pressing his soft pale head against Bai's body.  He quite liked it, the closeness of the physical contact.  Would that be enough express his own love, his own mixed drink of emotions he tried to find words for but couldn't quite grasp?  He hoped, he desperately hoped, otherwise he wasn't sure how he could deal with any negative repercussions of wording his own emotions wrong, the intense guilt of unintentionally hurting one of the few he cared for.

#psychosocial.