A small whimper like sound when Darkleer's grip on his hand tightens and Summoner's eyes squint closed, looking down before slowly raising as he feels his face directed towards the other by a large hand. Lysunder's ears flicker, hearing the other's words and he feels a pulling sensation on his face, near his eyes and nose before both heat up and he closes his lids again. This is so tough, just like the last time when he found himself here with Darkleer. Summoner did well to just not think about that, to block it out as if it didn't happen. Being brought up now bothers him, and being like that again infront of the other bothers him as well. He's not used to letting people see this, this vulnerability. At least now he has a better excuse with it being actual pain put on him with his wings. But still.
Being like this, this wasn't the position of a leader. How could he defend others if he was like this, how could he be there for him when he was curled up on the floor selfishly weeping about his own pain. And not only that but he'd burdening Darkleer with his problems again. Summoner might think that he understands pity better, but he really doesn't. He doesn't get that it means allowing yourself to be like this infront of another, that it's inevitable. He hates this, being like this. Even if how Darkleer's holding him close feels comforting, that he enjoys the larger troll curing around him like a cool security blanket. He wants to just stay here, melt into him, and when Darkleer presses their foreheads together, Summoner can't look at him.
"Rare? If you haven't noticed I have a lot of problems," and holy hell is it a punch to the gut to say that outloud and he's a little shell shocked himself when the words leave him, only to be even more taken aback when he hears Darkleer's next words.
Lysunder clenches his fangs, eyes barely open and looking through orange tinted tears welling up and ready to drip down his face. Finally he manages to look up at the other troll, his free hand hesitantly moving to slides fingers up into his long hair, cupping the side of his head weakly.
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Being like this, this wasn't the position of a leader. How could he defend others if he was like this, how could he be there for him when he was curled up on the floor selfishly weeping about his own pain. And not only that but he'd burdening Darkleer with his problems again. Summoner might think that he understands pity better, but he really doesn't. He doesn't get that it means allowing yourself to be like this infront of another, that it's inevitable. He hates this, being like this. Even if how Darkleer's holding him close feels comforting, that he enjoys the larger troll curing around him like a cool security blanket. He wants to just stay here, melt into him, and when Darkleer presses their foreheads together, Summoner can't look at him.
"Rare? If you haven't noticed I have a lot of problems," and holy hell is it a punch to the gut to say that outloud and he's a little shell shocked himself when the words leave him, only to be even more taken aback when he hears Darkleer's next words.
Lysunder clenches his fangs, eyes barely open and looking through orange tinted tears welling up and ready to drip down his face. Finally he manages to look up at the other troll, his free hand hesitantly moving to slides fingers up into his long hair, cupping the side of his head weakly.
"...Tink.."