#tunnel vision // exilegend

[gaygxnslinger]

@exilegend found a starter!

Watching Osiris for the last few months has been heart-wrenching, his Phoenix falling into a prison within his own mind, wings clipped and spiralling downward into abyssal unknowns, only to reemerge and meet with distrust alongside, for those who thought they knew him well, unfamiliarity.

Saint does his best to reassure. There is, however, only so much he can do, he knows Osiris will find his footing once again as he always does, but Saint-14 is a man who finds his main purpose is to give. When it is not enough, he will readily give more, and when that -- or his fists -- is not the solution? It bothers him.

His many years spent with Osiris have taught him that belief, time and patience will help to further, if not all, many goals that brute force cannot. Regardless, it pains him to spend that time watching Osiris suffer.

When his Beloved finally returns from Neptune, he is a beacon of light.

Saint moves to meet him and ever so gently reaches to grasp Osiris’ hands. He runs his thumbs in soft, little circles over the backs of them, and although the Exo is still unused to the lack of Solar heat that used to radiate from his lover, he thinks the warmth that fills him satiates.

“My Love,” he rumbles, “it is so wonderful to see you again. You will tell me of all you have learned about this Strand, yes? Over a cup of tea perhaps?”

[gaygxnslinger]

Saint sees through his words -- when one has lived with a man for so long, it's hard not to learn the finer details and meanings behind words and action -- but he chooses not to point it out. Instead, he chuckles, something far more gentle than the boisterous laugh he is known for.

"Perhaps. You can show me later on, then." Even if Osiris does not blatantly tell of the toll everything has been taking, Saint appreciates that his lover is able to now allow himself to stop and breathe.

He lets go of one of Osiris' hands, but leads him to the living room by the other. Everything is tidy, as it normally is, though one glance around the room at shelves and cabinets full of knickknacks shows that it is absolutely still lived in. A framed picture of the two of them rests front and centre on the mantleplace.

"Go, sit!" Saint ushers, hurrying off then calling from the kitchen, "I will be with you soon!"

Osiris is left with a few moments to himself before Saint returns, presumably having set the kettle to boil. He sits himself down next to the other man. "In the meantime, you can tell me of Neomuna?"

SAINT.

@exilegend found a starter! Watching Osiris for the last few months has been heart-wrenching, his Phoenix falling into a prison within his own mind, wings clipped and spiraling downward into abyssal unknowns, only to reemerge and meet with distrust alongside, for those who thought they knew him well, unfamiliarity. Saint does his best to reassure. There is, however, only so much he can do, he knows Osiris will find his footing once again as he always does, but Saint-14 is a man who finds his main purpose is to give. When it is not enough, he will readily give more, and when that – or his fists – is not the solution? It bothers him. His many years spent with Osiris have taught him that belief, time and patience will help to further, if not all, many goals that brute force cannot. Regardless, it pains him to spend that time watching Osiris suffer. When his Beloved finally returns from Neptune, he is a beacon of light. Saint moves to meet him and ever so gently reaches to grasp Osiris’ hands. He runs his thumbs in soft, little circles over the backs of them, and although the Exo is still unused to the lack of Solar heat that used to radiate from his lover, he thinks the warmth that fills him satiates. “My Love,” he rumbles, “it is so wonderful to see you again. You will tell me of all you have learned about this Strand, yes? Over a cup of tea perhaps?”

tension like a string — it’s followed him ever since he salvaged his jumpship from the wreckage of the warship he and the guardian took down. ever since he crawled in and made to journey home. it’s followed him even before then. the witness. the traveler. the tension shapes into a headache as he drags his feet as he walks streets younger than he. when, at last, he is home, he feels that tension snap by the warmth that greets him. yes, he thinks, this is enough. he offers a tired smile in return when saint grabs his hand. to say that he is exhausted would be an understatement. growing used to his body’s needs, which include sleep, has been… a challenge, to say the very least. “ saint. ”  he says, simple as that, because that is all he really needs to say to convey everything he feels for him. saint is patient with him, something he wishes he could return as boundlessly as he has. but that is one of the reasons he fell for him, is it not? he’s just as stubborn, if not more, than osiris is. he squeezes saint’s hand and nods, appreciating the comfort he has and always will distill in him. even with a mind as racing as his, saint is able to bring him back to earth. ever the grounding presence. “ tea sounds good, ”  he muses,  “ though… perhaps i should allow myself to recuperate before i dive into the intricacies of the thinning of reality and conjoining of conscious thought to the material world. ” he doesn’t want to admit outright his exhaustion.