Scand shook his head in amused embarrassment at Shahar's reassurance. He was unused to being treated like a Drykas. For the past four years years, he had been nothing but a curse, a dark cloud in the royal blue of the Skycrowns. It was something that, even though he still understood it to be the case, the truth, with Shahar he could forget it for a time. Of course, with Shahar he wasn't treated quite the same as he might have been before, after all the only words that passed between them were intimated by their hands an respective postures. Still, Scand found he enjoyed the quiet. It allowed him to think and ponder over what Shahar said in a much different fashion that it might have been, though he lagged behind in his responses more often than not do to those introspections. Taking a few ticks to better formulate his reply to Shahar's questions, Scand opted to take the line of inquiry in a different way. While he possessed the seemingly native trait of stubbornness that came with being a Drykas, over the past years, Scand had become far more focused on the needs and desires of others, in conversations especially. It helped to assuage some of the negative stigma that he was faced with, though it hardly absolved him.
"Shahar," Scand spoke it as the man across the table from him had done, soft and almost whispered. It was name that he wore well, and Scand's lips turned up in a thoughtful smile as he considered whether it was the man's first name, or if it had been one he had discovered later in his life. Realizing he was staring again, Scand let his attention slide off of Shahar's face, finding interest in the table for a few ticks while he signed his explanation. Strength of body. Power of soul. He brought his eyes back to Shahar, keeping from direct contact with the other man's gaze as he did so. For whatever reason, it seemed Shahar found it uncomfortable, and Scand hardly wanted to subject his guest to that. And pain of heart. He paused, mulling over how to convey his thoughts in a way that would make sense, a challenge for him even had he not been exclusively signing everything that he could.
You have strength, power, pain. Scand used a more suggestive posture, implying that his words were how he perceived Shahar rather than immutable facts. You have weakness too. Here, Scand pulled his shoulders inward, an attempt to mimic Shahar's natural introversion, though he augmented it with like this. Scand chewed on his lower lip, eyes level with Shahar's chin as he thought. Why weakness? He tilted his head, curiosity playing within the spark of his pale-green gaze, eyes flitting over Shahar's continued... Well, he wasn't really quite sure what it was, which made it that much more interesting. Shahar was interesting, that much he'd decided since he'd arrived. Beyond that, however, Scand didn't understand him. There was much he didn't understand, in truth, but Shahar seemed open enough to his questions, entertained even.
While he had initially tried to start conversation for the sake of keeping his guest occupied until his sisters arrived so that he could fulfill the true point of his visit, Scand found he was quite invested in their muted dialogue. Not bad, weakness. He offered a little grin, embodying a teasing incline of his head. It lasted for few beats before his lips settled back into their natural line as he finished. If strong, show weakness, not strength. Confused. In his experience, those who were strong were not necessarily proud of it, but they did not hide it. His father was strong, and weakness was something difficult for him to abide. Shahar was different, and Scand wanted to know why.
"Shahar," Scand spoke it as the man across the table from him had done, soft and almost whispered. It was name that he wore well, and Scand's lips turned up in a thoughtful smile as he considered whether it was the man's first name, or if it had been one he had discovered later in his life. Realizing he was staring again, Scand let his attention slide off of Shahar's face, finding interest in the table for a few ticks while he signed his explanation. Strength of body. Power of soul. He brought his eyes back to Shahar, keeping from direct contact with the other man's gaze as he did so. For whatever reason, it seemed Shahar found it uncomfortable, and Scand hardly wanted to subject his guest to that. And pain of heart. He paused, mulling over how to convey his thoughts in a way that would make sense, a challenge for him even had he not been exclusively signing everything that he could.
You have strength, power, pain. Scand used a more suggestive posture, implying that his words were how he perceived Shahar rather than immutable facts. You have weakness too. Here, Scand pulled his shoulders inward, an attempt to mimic Shahar's natural introversion, though he augmented it with like this. Scand chewed on his lower lip, eyes level with Shahar's chin as he thought. Why weakness? He tilted his head, curiosity playing within the spark of his pale-green gaze, eyes flitting over Shahar's continued... Well, he wasn't really quite sure what it was, which made it that much more interesting. Shahar was interesting, that much he'd decided since he'd arrived. Beyond that, however, Scand didn't understand him. There was much he didn't understand, in truth, but Shahar seemed open enough to his questions, entertained even.
While he had initially tried to start conversation for the sake of keeping his guest occupied until his sisters arrived so that he could fulfill the true point of his visit, Scand found he was quite invested in their muted dialogue. Not bad, weakness. He offered a little grin, embodying a teasing incline of his head. It lasted for few beats before his lips settled back into their natural line as he finished. If strong, show weakness, not strength. Confused. In his experience, those who were strong were not necessarily proud of it, but they did not hide it. His father was strong, and weakness was something difficult for him to abide. Shahar was different, and Scand wanted to know why.
Pavi | Common
