[ It's not until Dokja starts drinking that Eustace finally returns his attention back to the bag in front of him, though he can't stop himself from glancing over every few seconds even as he pulls a change of clothes out.
Watching Dokja recover from his own rebirth hadn't prepared him for how exhausted he would feel now, and even tugging on a shirt feels like a monumental effort despite how lightweight the fabric is. The only saving grace is that he's far too focused on Dokja to care about the ache deep in his own muscles. Aches and pains haven't killed him before and they certainly aren't going to now. Who cares about that when one of the most important people in his life looks ready to curl into a ball and erase himself from existence?
Even if they hadn't shared the same Aspect, it would be impossible to miss the misery that rolls off the other man in waves, a burden so heavy it seems to physically weigh him down. How much of it had been a result of the Oracle as a whole and how much of it had been a result of his death in particular? It's not a pleasant question to think about either way.
He's halfway through pulling on pants when Dokja finally pipes up with the world's smallest apology. His hands still at the unexpectedness of it all, the squint to his eyes growing deeper as his brows knit together. ]
...For?
[ He literally can't imagine what Dokja could possibly need to apologize for. ]
no subject
Watching Dokja recover from his own rebirth hadn't prepared him for how exhausted he would feel now, and even tugging on a shirt feels like a monumental effort despite how lightweight the fabric is. The only saving grace is that he's far too focused on Dokja to care about the ache deep in his own muscles. Aches and pains haven't killed him before and they certainly aren't going to now. Who cares about that when one of the most important people in his life looks ready to curl into a ball and erase himself from existence?
Even if they hadn't shared the same Aspect, it would be impossible to miss the misery that rolls off the other man in waves, a burden so heavy it seems to physically weigh him down. How much of it had been a result of the Oracle as a whole and how much of it had been a result of his death in particular? It's not a pleasant question to think about either way.
He's halfway through pulling on pants when Dokja finally pipes up with the world's smallest apology. His hands still at the unexpectedness of it all, the squint to his eyes growing deeper as his brows knit together. ]
...For?
[ He literally can't imagine what Dokja could possibly need to apologize for. ]