[ It's an unfamiliar feeling—being led, following in the footsteps of someone else. Yet, he moves in perfect lockstep, almost mesmerised by it. The location, the setup, the meticulous planning and preparation—it's all so foreign to experience from the other side, these things he's used to taking upon himself, either for himself or for other people. Now, watching someone else take the reins, he feels a strange mix of awe and disorientation, like a part of him is untethered, somehow.
It isn't unpleasant, per se… but if he had to give a name to the feeling that arises,
he doesn't think he wants to. Rather, he thinks he doesn't need to.
But does he like it here, specifically? The thought lingers just as Sampo's head tips onto his shoulder. Instinct takes over, and he adjusts without thinking, tucking Sampo closer with his arms wrapping around his waist. There's a quiet hum, soft and thoughtful, as if he's genuinely mulling over the question. But he doesn't need to, not really. The answer is already there, settled in the last bit of distance between them. ]
If I say I don't, are you going to take me to more places?
[ … a slip of a hand underneath the other's cloak, but it isn't so much purposeful as it is to close that last bit of distance between them for whatever a piece of cloth would amount to. If that same hand touches skin, it isn't his fault? But Sampo probably feels and hears the smile from above him, the former in Elysium's head rested against his and the latter in the form of a mischievous sigh. ]
Should've heeded my warning about travellers, Sampo. We're greedy, greedy people, so if you give me the option, I'm going to say just that, until we've exhausted the world and then some. [ hehe. ] But if you're asking about another form of 'it,' [ as undefined as the quiet thrum of his heart, this companionship—until the end of the world, or perhaps the end of some world—however long it, or they, may last, ] you could say that.
no subject
It isn't unpleasant, per se… but if he had to give a name to the feeling that arises,
he doesn't think he wants to. Rather, he thinks he doesn't need to.
But does he like it here, specifically? The thought lingers just as Sampo's head tips onto his shoulder. Instinct takes over, and he adjusts without thinking, tucking Sampo closer with his arms wrapping around his waist. There's a quiet hum, soft and thoughtful, as if he's genuinely mulling over the question. But he doesn't need to, not really. The answer is already there, settled in the last bit of distance between them. ]
If I say I don't, are you going to take me to more places?
[ … a slip of a hand underneath the other's cloak, but it isn't so much purposeful as it is to close that last bit of distance between them for whatever a piece of cloth would amount to. If that same hand touches skin, it isn't his fault? But Sampo probably feels and hears the smile from above him, the former in Elysium's head rested against his and the latter in the form of a mischievous sigh. ]
Should've heeded my warning about travellers, Sampo. We're greedy, greedy people, so if you give me the option, I'm going to say just that, until we've exhausted the world and then some. [ hehe. ] But if you're asking about another form of 'it,' [ as undefined as the quiet thrum of his heart, this companionship—until the end of the world, or perhaps the end of some world—however long it, or they, may last, ] you could say that.
[ Is this what Sampo wanted to hear? ]
How often do you do this, hm?