[ a friendly reminder. but! there’s something else that’s quick to get his attention. tongue flicking and lip wetting escalates rather quickly with leaves, petals and dirt in the cooking fray. his brain is telling him look at this smell no wait look at this one, no wait—, unable to divide his attention as readily as he would’ve liked (no, thank god he doesn’t have chameleon eyes).
he’s quick, at least. quick and eager to put himself into the task once asked, lips parted a little further to speak once washing is done and peeling is to be had. knives, bless. he gets the sharpest one from the drawer.
but the drop in mood, rather, it’s return, makes eren stop mid peel, potato skin into a rather quick spiral with hands that have grown used to the task for years. he can’t expect mikleo to pretend he’s okay, when he’s not, of course not— but he won’t leave him alone. he won’t force him to repeat himself, or voice the clench in his chest or the weariness that loads onto his bones.
he can share what he had to offer instead: a constant wave of what he had the day they decided to bond that laps at the darker cloud of feeling. mikleo told him this, and he extends it as his own. a shimmer in a shadow: you’re not alone. ]
Sit a little. [ he’ll readily take over if he’s guided into what he had to do, nearly finished with his share (a master potato peeler), and dragging the closest chair over for the seraph. ] Just tell me where everything is and where it goes. [ a pause, more lip licking. ] —Consider it training for staying here.
[ he needs to know how to work these contraptions on his own and at least know how to not starve. he’s willing to learn. ]
no subject
[ a friendly reminder. but! there’s something else that’s quick to get his attention. tongue flicking and lip wetting escalates rather quickly with leaves, petals and dirt in the cooking fray. his brain is telling him look at this smell no wait look at this one, no wait—, unable to divide his attention as readily as he would’ve liked (no, thank god he doesn’t have chameleon eyes).
he’s quick, at least. quick and eager to put himself into the task once asked, lips parted a little further to speak once washing is done and peeling is to be had. knives, bless. he gets the sharpest one from the drawer.
but the drop in mood, rather, it’s return, makes eren stop mid peel, potato skin into a rather quick spiral with hands that have grown used to the task for years. he can’t expect mikleo to pretend he’s okay, when he’s not, of course not— but he won’t leave him alone. he won’t force him to repeat himself, or voice the clench in his chest or the weariness that loads onto his bones.
he can share what he had to offer instead: a constant wave of what he had the day they decided to bond that laps at the darker cloud of feeling. mikleo told him this, and he extends it as his own. a shimmer in a shadow: you’re not alone. ]
Sit a little. [ he’ll readily take over if he’s guided into what he had to do, nearly finished with his share (a master potato peeler), and dragging the closest chair over for the seraph. ] Just tell me where everything is and where it goes. [ a pause, more lip licking. ] —Consider it training for staying here.
[ he needs to know how to work these contraptions on his own and at least know how to not starve. he’s willing to learn. ]