At the very least, her presence here would provide some sense of direction. [ — for phainon, not yet prepared to take up that mantle of hers, especially with the prospect of her being gone once he is required to. ] But it's a blessing, if nothing else, that she isn't currently plucked from her standing as the one who continues to oversee Okhema.
[ unfortunate for them, the whole of amphoreus, that patho-gen saw it fit to whisk strife away instead, but now with the vaguely confirmed discrepancy of some of their memories no longer aligned with what phainon perceives to be current, he isn't sure what to make of this foreign world.
for now, it's just his fingers against mydeimos' neck with a thumb, gentle, against a pulse just under the curve of his jawline — no pressure, not much of a grasp around the base of it. and maybe mydeimos is aware that phainon wouldn't dare, could never think to put his hands on him in a way that would dishonor the underlying friendship they actually have. just a playful warmth, asking to be swatted away — because phainon is aware he's crossing one too many lines with this. ]
As for what's been on my mind — [ if mydeimos decides to allow phainon's hand to remain where it's been settled, a touch now barely there, he'll find that it'll return to where it was once placed: upon his chest, mostly where a certain professor's hand rested upon their own prior to an expected finale. ] I suppose you can say that...
[ — but there's plenty he wants to talk about: the very concept of memories that his professor imparted, what the 'next life', that new world promised to amphoreus, actually entails for them as chrysos heirs, how their spars, stupid challenges, the bickering, everything else in between — they'll likely never have that again. not with the others, not even with each other. it's easier to spill the truth with mydeimos' eyes closed, part of phainon reveling, in silence, at the brand new sight of this, like discovering an unexplored facet. but, he conveys part of the truth instead: ]
no subject
[ unfortunate for them, the whole of amphoreus, that patho-gen saw it fit to whisk strife away instead, but now with the vaguely confirmed discrepancy of some of their memories no longer aligned with what phainon perceives to be current, he isn't sure what to make of this foreign world.
for now, it's just his fingers against mydeimos' neck with a thumb, gentle, against a pulse just under the curve of his jawline — no pressure, not much of a grasp around the base of it. and maybe mydeimos is aware that phainon wouldn't dare, could never think to put his hands on him in a way that would dishonor the underlying friendship they actually have. just a playful warmth, asking to be swatted away — because phainon is aware he's crossing one too many lines with this. ]
As for what's been on my mind — [ if mydeimos decides to allow phainon's hand to remain where it's been settled, a touch now barely there, he'll find that it'll return to where it was once placed: upon his chest, mostly where a certain professor's hand rested upon their own prior to an expected finale. ] I suppose you can say that...
[ — but there's plenty he wants to talk about: the very concept of memories that his professor imparted, what the 'next life', that new world promised to amphoreus, actually entails for them as chrysos heirs, how their spars, stupid challenges, the bickering, everything else in between — they'll likely never have that again. not with the others, not even with each other. it's easier to spill the truth with mydeimos' eyes closed, part of phainon reveling, in silence, at the brand new sight of this, like discovering an unexplored facet. but, he conveys part of the truth instead: ]
— my teacher is no longer of this world.