dunemantic | (Reply)

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[ The for the time being sits badly in Essek's stomach. He's not sure that he will ever need to know what Caleb's done in his life that's he's so afraid of, and at this present time he hopes Caleb never does ask the same of him. Still, he knows well enough how fickle time is, and how impossible absolutes are in terms of the future. For the time being is a concession that, perhaps, he is willing to make.

But then his hands are in Caleb's, and then Caleb's lips graze against his knuckles, and he is hyperfocused on the heat. He's never met a transmutation who burns as hot as Caleb does, whose body takes his capabilities so literally. It's in his hair, his eyes, the ruddy tone of his skin, every freckle and every fingerprint. Caleb's heat is the poetry his own cold bones lack.

He can't help smiling. He can't identify what this feeling actually is. It resembles the sparkling satisfaction of academic and magical achievement, but it's different. It warms from the inside, like tea and honey. He's relieved is what he is, and happy, which is foreign. ]

I'm not a, ah, particularly good dancer so that you might want to reconsider.

[ It's a joke, a playful ribbing. He gently pulls his hands away from Caleb's, only to replace them on Caleb's cheeks, thumbs bracing his ears and fingers resting on the base of his skull. He glances down at Caleb's lips, and he just knows they're as warm as the rest of him. There is absolutely no going back from the leap he wants to take. ]

Caleb, I--

[ How does he even...]