[ Sen's smile grows warm as Rin talks; it's an unconsciously pleased, unconsciously soft expression, of the sort that gives others to think there is Something Between Rin and Senan. How he looks at them, with an overabundant fondness, the pair of them languid and comfortable.
It doesn't help that he tsks and bends his head to press his cheek to their forehead, ostensibly teasing, though lingering too long in the nearness of it even when the contact ends. ]
What then will be done? I shall endeavor to speak acclaim daily, to sate your lust for praise. What harm is there, if the words are only truths about which this prideful null must be made aware, lest they think themself anything other than resplendent. Anything other than incomparable.
[ His heart aches. Sen is glancing away from them as though gathering his thoughts, but the truth is. The truth is, their smile is a near-molten knife bypassing his outermost anatomy and neatly incising his most vital organs. The truth is, their smile is a brand pressed to his heart, marking him as theirs.
The truth is he wants, badly, to capture their smile in a kiss.
And he won't.
But he will return his attention to them, his smirk firmly placed, and holds up his finger again as though he means to indicate his first compliment; instead, he taps it quickly against the tip of their nose. ]
No trouble at all. No peril. I am in the safe harbor of your friendship and indulgence - indeed, I am ensconced within a kingdom of your own creation, where I am pleased to serve my monarch. As their guardian at the gates, as their courtier, as their fool. Whatever my sovereign bids, I shall endeavor to achieve.
Now. Compliment the Second, owed to your privilege, which is that of a null. The nonbinary, the neither-nor. By birthright, you are unmatched for radiance. By privilege of your self, as you have determined said self to be, and impressed upon the world the importance of such a distinction, you are owed - yes, owed! - praise of your character.
You are, my Rin, who is not my Rin, by far a more courageous soul than I, or any I have ever known. You tread where few others dare to go, across uncertain paths, laying foundations upon which you make your stands. You are resilient where others quail.
You have created a bastion for others, a place for them to turn when the world is cruel to them in ways you have keenly, painfully known. You fight silent battles armed only with words - and those, in far shorter supply than my own.
In the years I have watched you, and been most fortunate to know you, I have seen you grow to manage such battles with pragmatism and g-
[ He falters, his voice catching on a waver, on a strangle of emotion. It was sudden, the overwhelming pride, and stopped him abruptly. His smile hesitates beneath too-rapid blinking (oh, and didn't mean to get so enmeshed, and it's true. He believes every word.) And it returns, gentle, just as his voice returns.
Gentle. ]
With grace, Rin. With grace.
[ Here, he pauses, looking down (not intending to look at their hand on his arm, but looking nevertheless at their hand on his arm.) He sniffs, clears his throat, and adds softly: ]
I could speak unceasing praise of you. To others. To you. To empty air. I would commit myself to do so for a lifetime. It would be my privilege. What good are my words, otherwise? What good would they be, without you? if they were not spoken for the sake of one I so admire? Useless sounds to fill the vast emptiness of a world that never knew, never so much as conceived of the possibility, of Rin.
no subject
It doesn't help that he tsks and bends his head to press his cheek to their forehead, ostensibly teasing, though lingering too long in the nearness of it even when the contact ends. ]
What then will be done? I shall endeavor to speak acclaim daily, to sate your lust for praise. What harm is there, if the words are only truths about which this prideful null must be made aware, lest they think themself anything other than resplendent. Anything other than incomparable.
[ His heart aches. Sen is glancing away from them as though gathering his thoughts, but the truth is. The truth is, their smile is a near-molten knife bypassing his outermost anatomy and neatly incising his most vital organs. The truth is, their smile is a brand pressed to his heart, marking him as theirs.
The truth is he wants, badly, to capture their smile in a kiss.
And he won't.
But he will return his attention to them, his smirk firmly placed, and holds up his finger again as though he means to indicate his first compliment; instead, he taps it quickly against the tip of their nose. ]
No trouble at all. No peril. I am in the safe harbor of your friendship and indulgence - indeed, I am ensconced within a kingdom of your own creation, where I am pleased to serve my monarch. As their guardian at the gates, as their courtier, as their fool. Whatever my sovereign bids, I shall endeavor to achieve.
Now. Compliment the Second, owed to your privilege, which is that of a null. The nonbinary, the neither-nor. By birthright, you are unmatched for radiance. By privilege of your self, as you have determined said self to be, and impressed upon the world the importance of such a distinction, you are owed - yes, owed! - praise of your character.
You are, my Rin, who is not my Rin, by far a more courageous soul than I, or any I have ever known. You tread where few others dare to go, across uncertain paths, laying foundations upon which you make your stands. You are resilient where others quail.
You have created a bastion for others, a place for them to turn when the world is cruel to them in ways you have keenly, painfully known. You fight silent battles armed only with words - and those, in far shorter supply than my own.
In the years I have watched you, and been most fortunate to know you, I have seen you grow to manage such battles with pragmatism and g-
[ He falters, his voice catching on a waver, on a strangle of emotion. It was sudden, the overwhelming pride, and stopped him abruptly. His smile hesitates beneath too-rapid blinking (oh, and didn't mean to get so enmeshed, and it's true. He believes every word.) And it returns, gentle, just as his voice returns.
Gentle. ]
With grace, Rin. With grace.
[ Here, he pauses, looking down (not intending to look at their hand on his arm, but looking nevertheless at their hand on his arm.) He sniffs, clears his throat, and adds softly: ]
I could speak unceasing praise of you. To others. To you. To empty air. I would commit myself to do so for a lifetime. It would be my privilege. What good are my words, otherwise? What good would they be, without you? if they were not spoken for the sake of one I so admire? Useless sounds to fill the vast emptiness of a world that never knew, never so much as conceived of the possibility, of Rin.