10-20-2019, 02:34 AM
His own heart continues to beat rapidly, thumping heavily in its chamber, even well after he'd pulled away from her. Such a small touch of a feather to her skin was enough to do this to him, and it intrigues as well as scares him just a little. Makes him wonder what a real touch would do, would feel like, skin to skin. The thought has his breath catching for just a second as he tries to contain himself. Eyes locked with hers, earth and sky, he nearly steps forward once more to give in to the temptation, except her words halt him. He hadn't meant to say it out loud, but especially now that she disputes his statement, he can't bring himself to regret it one bit. Badden's lips edge up into something of a smirk, and he gives a slight shake of his broad head, emphasized by his bone-white horn. "You can try to convince me, Casimira, but I think you'll find I'm quite hard-headed." He could swear her speech is meant to push him away, but he is still drawn to her. Something in her gaze, maybe, or something deeper. He has no real conception of what is going on between them, only that it grows increasingly more difficult to ignore.
He inhales deeply; the scent of spring and warmth carried on the breeze mixed with her own mysterious mix of smells. Breathing out on a sigh, he studies her. She really believes what she'd said in her quiet admission, the weight of it thick in her voice. Maybe it should make him want to turn away from her, but all he can think about is trying to lift that heavy weight off of her. He has no obligation, no real reason, other than this draw to her he couldn't even begin to explain. Like magnets pulling together, stronger the closer they are to one another. Badden gives a step, then one more, testing the field. "We've all done things, I suspect." For just a moment, he allows the memory of his own faults to flicker over his face. It'd been so long, he barely remembers how they looked- his mother and sister. He doubts he will ever see them again, and that is all his fault. "Does that have to mean you can never be happy again?" At only a few months old, he'd been found by another purple man, brought to his group that became his new family. They raised him as their own, and he loves them for it. For the bonds forged, for the lessons learned. But it never quite replaced that which he'd lost, that which he'd been deprived of, and he'd missed out on that true sense of belonging. Silly, perhaps, but it was how he felt.
She smiles as she asks him who taught him to be kind, and his gaze latches on to that look on her face, the most genuine so far. Something inside him responds to it, and he absently takes another small step toward her, smiling softly in return. He's glad to give her kindness, more than he's given to anyone he can remember, even if he doesn't understand why. "Hm, the ones who raised me, I suppose. If I have to pick one..." His tongue peeks out to dab his lips with moisture as he recounts, pretending to mull it over for some semblance of suspense. "I'd have to say the man who I count as close to a father as I've had. He taught me best how to be a man, how a woman should be treated..." Heat rises as his blood rushes through his veins. He remembers catching glimpses of soft touches, whispered words of comfort. Things he'd always turned away from, but knew it was kindness Reilly was giving to Lacey in his repeated attempts to take away her pain and troubles. He never gave up on her. "How to laugh even when it seems impossible." His eyes refocus on her, soft smile in place. They were perhaps two or three feet apart by now, and he was itching to touch her but for the thought that she might not want him to.
He inhales deeply; the scent of spring and warmth carried on the breeze mixed with her own mysterious mix of smells. Breathing out on a sigh, he studies her. She really believes what she'd said in her quiet admission, the weight of it thick in her voice. Maybe it should make him want to turn away from her, but all he can think about is trying to lift that heavy weight off of her. He has no obligation, no real reason, other than this draw to her he couldn't even begin to explain. Like magnets pulling together, stronger the closer they are to one another. Badden gives a step, then one more, testing the field. "We've all done things, I suspect." For just a moment, he allows the memory of his own faults to flicker over his face. It'd been so long, he barely remembers how they looked- his mother and sister. He doubts he will ever see them again, and that is all his fault. "Does that have to mean you can never be happy again?" At only a few months old, he'd been found by another purple man, brought to his group that became his new family. They raised him as their own, and he loves them for it. For the bonds forged, for the lessons learned. But it never quite replaced that which he'd lost, that which he'd been deprived of, and he'd missed out on that true sense of belonging. Silly, perhaps, but it was how he felt.
She smiles as she asks him who taught him to be kind, and his gaze latches on to that look on her face, the most genuine so far. Something inside him responds to it, and he absently takes another small step toward her, smiling softly in return. He's glad to give her kindness, more than he's given to anyone he can remember, even if he doesn't understand why. "Hm, the ones who raised me, I suppose. If I have to pick one..." His tongue peeks out to dab his lips with moisture as he recounts, pretending to mull it over for some semblance of suspense. "I'd have to say the man who I count as close to a father as I've had. He taught me best how to be a man, how a woman should be treated..." Heat rises as his blood rushes through his veins. He remembers catching glimpses of soft touches, whispered words of comfort. Things he'd always turned away from, but knew it was kindness Reilly was giving to Lacey in his repeated attempts to take away her pain and troubles. He never gave up on her. "How to laugh even when it seems impossible." His eyes refocus on her, soft smile in place. They were perhaps two or three feet apart by now, and he was itching to touch her but for the thought that she might not want him to.
BADDEN
