The desire to speak drains with the last vestiges of his energy, and he lets himself just get lost in Poe's eyes. Soft and filled entirely with Owain. It's-- hard, the longer he watches Poe, because the more he does the bigger his heart feels, and the bigger his heart feels the more he just wants to-- close a distance. A distance that can only be closed in time.
He doesn't dare move, trying to keep this moment going for as long as he can. The love in that touch, the love in this moment, the love in everything he is. He watches Poe and tears prick at his eyes - happy tears, joyful little surges of emotion that pry themselves from his tear ducts and roll down the bridge of his nose every so often - but he's smiling and he's warm and he's in love.
The smile slips from his face as time drags on. He struggles against sleep, forcing his eyes open whenever they start to shut, leaning back against Poe's hand every time it slows just to keep this going. Eventually, though - the comfort he feels in this tight, cramped cot, the pathetic thing set aside for him as a Pledge that he and Poe have completely claimed as something different, catches up to him.
And when he sleeps,
Owain dreams of the wars they'll be fighting. The ways they might lose each other.
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The desire to speak drains with the last vestiges of his energy, and he lets himself just get lost in Poe's eyes. Soft and filled entirely with Owain. It's-- hard, the longer he watches Poe, because the more he does the bigger his heart feels, and the bigger his heart feels the more he just wants to-- close a distance. A distance that can only be closed in time.
He doesn't dare move, trying to keep this moment going for as long as he can. The love in that touch, the love in this moment, the love in everything he is. He watches Poe and tears prick at his eyes - happy tears, joyful little surges of emotion that pry themselves from his tear ducts and roll down the bridge of his nose every so often - but he's smiling and he's warm and he's in love.
The smile slips from his face as time drags on. He struggles against sleep, forcing his eyes open whenever they start to shut, leaning back against Poe's hand every time it slows just to keep this going. Eventually, though - the comfort he feels in this tight, cramped cot, the pathetic thing set aside for him as a Pledge that he and Poe have completely claimed as something different, catches up to him.
And when he sleeps,
Owain dreams of the wars they'll be fighting. The ways they might lose each other.
The fires they'll forge themselves in.