#JUST TRYING DESPERATELY TO ENCOMPASS HOW MUCH I LOVE THIS DARLINGSEST OF EXPLORERS MY FAVOURITE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[mythvoiced]

@theimpalpable​ | “ that’s bad. ” (Félix to Samuel :D honestly, probably Félix being a mess IUWHEDIUH) two word starters

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“Ye... Yeah, that’s bad!”

Samuel isn’t one to raise his voice. Which is a big fat lie, because he does often enough for the previous statement to sound even ridiculous to his own ears, if it wasn’t for his lack of willingness to admit the decibel he could sometimes reach.

Truth simply is that when he feels like he’s losing the ongoing battle against his anxiety, when he feels his very veins are about to crawl out of his skin and choke him where he stands, when he feels just a smidgen overwhelmed with just how insanely wrong so many things can go at once, he has a tendency to break his voice into half a shout.

Not that it would gather more attention that the situation at hand, but it’s an interesting assessment to make, how someone who begs to be considered calm and peaceful is anything but on his best days, and miles away from it when you meet him on his worst days and his anxiety quickly turns from a little odd to revealing a bite he’d rather suffocate on more often than not.

But also... His desk is kind of on fire.

In a way, makes for a pretty picture.

Reflects on Samuel’s glasses and encompasses Félix in the kind of colours Samuel had always assumed explores to walk in most of the time, you know, the reflection of a burning torch as the flames it creates break their lights and shadow dances on the walls of cavern he’s making his way through, first of humankind to have walked the secret path in centuries, lit up in orange as the only source of light in his hand deems him worthy of being coated in its primary colours.

It’d be a good sight to immortalise for a scene or two, good words to keep in mind and re-use for a fitting scene, a good scenario if only it wasn’t for the fact that his desk is on fire.

Samuel’s hands have long gotten lost in his hair, tugging at the short strands while simultaneously remaining stuck there, rendering him about as useful to the situation as Félix’ commentary.

Why had he even let him into his house.

Why is coffee creamer so stupidly flammable.

Why can’t he never just drink his coffee in peace.