[mouse. as if Rook could be a mouse. no, in reality, man itself is both a hunter and prey more fearsome, more persistent than any beast, one that even the king of the savanna would be foolish to take lightly. it's infuriating how perfect Rook embodies that spirit of persistence and yet is everything else that he is.
Leona oh-so-mercifully releases Rook just enough to take in his own surroundings, though, with a sort of absent look that speaks to the aftershocks of his overwhelm. beastmen are strikingly more dependent on their hearing and sense of smell than humans, and it takes Leona's eyes a moment longer than it should to adjust to the light now that he's not hiding his face.]
Like shit, still, thanks,
[grumbles Leona, apparently not quite so fixated on desire that he seems to find the need to make his attitude even relatively appealing yet. he turns his head back Rook's way again, though, and this time he's stopped for a different reason than the still-very-appealing scent Rook's giving off.
it's Rook, for sure. but his hair is longer, isn't it? it's still Rook, but it isn't the Rook he saw even yesterday, braving the bowels of Styx for his beloved housewarden.
there is an ache Leona wanted to avoid feeling for his younger schoolmates. really, he'd thought— hoped, maybe?— he'd never see a one again. and so to avoid that feeling, he tips his head back Rook's way again, reaching one hand back behind him to brace on the grass, the other catching in Rook's shirt.
deep down, Leona understands that Rook's actions have been taken out of concern, whether or not Leona's comfortable with it. and while Leona is an asshole, while it seems he can be cruel, there is a limit to that cruelty. though he doesn't give a thanks that sounds real, he does give Rook the mercy of knowing;]
...but I can breathe.
[the focuses have reduced enough. the grass, the trees, the pollen— those aren't clamoring for his attention the way the pheromones of other people were. here alone with Rook's, he can soak into out of a desire to give in without feeling like he can't barely move.]
no subject
Leona oh-so-mercifully releases Rook just enough to take in his own surroundings, though, with a sort of absent look that speaks to the aftershocks of his overwhelm. beastmen are strikingly more dependent on their hearing and sense of smell than humans, and it takes Leona's eyes a moment longer than it should to adjust to the light now that he's not hiding his face.]
Like shit, still, thanks,
[grumbles Leona, apparently not quite so fixated on desire that he seems to find the need to make his attitude even relatively appealing yet. he turns his head back Rook's way again, though, and this time he's stopped for a different reason than the still-very-appealing scent Rook's giving off.
it's Rook, for sure. but his hair is longer, isn't it? it's still Rook, but it isn't the Rook he saw even yesterday, braving the bowels of Styx for his beloved housewarden.
there is an ache Leona wanted to avoid feeling for his younger schoolmates. really, he'd thought— hoped, maybe?— he'd never see a one again. and so to avoid that feeling, he tips his head back Rook's way again, reaching one hand back behind him to brace on the grass, the other catching in Rook's shirt.
deep down, Leona understands that Rook's actions have been taken out of concern, whether or not Leona's comfortable with it. and while Leona is an asshole, while it seems he can be cruel, there is a limit to that cruelty. though he doesn't give a thanks that sounds real, he does give Rook the mercy of knowing;]
...but I can breathe.
[the focuses have reduced enough. the grass, the trees, the pollen— those aren't clamoring for his attention the way the pheromones of other people were. here alone with Rook's, he can soak into out of a desire to give in without feeling like he can't barely move.]