๏ผ but it's mild protest, and after adding another log to the fire he relents, and comes to sit a short distance away from him. he draws one leg up, a posture that seems almost the default for him when opportunity arrives. ๏ผ
It isn't mutually exclusive with being an asshole. So I've heard.
[The moment Itachi returns, a bit of the ache inside of him relents and he huffs out his own soft laugh under his breath that chases away even more of the lingering sorrow. Trust Itachi to choose now of all times to be hilarious.]
You're not always polite, you just use nice enough words that people don't know when you're actually being an ass to them. [It's impressive, honestly.]
After that the silence that falls over them is comfortable instead of the heavy one from before, and Wei Wuxian exhales into it, exhaustion pulling at his limbs. He won't be sleeping anytime soon, but maybe he'll manage a handful of hours as it gets closer to morning. After a moment, he reaches into his bag and pulls out some talisman drafting notes.
Just because he can't use them here doesn't mean he can't work on them.] Why don't I take first watch? I'm not sleeping for a while either way.
๏ผ he gives wei wuxian a sidelong glance. it's more an assessment than anything, but whatever he sees there is apparently enough that he makes a soft hm of agreement.
and then folds his arms across his chest, adjusting his posture so that his chin dips down against his chest, feet crossed at the ankle. it's not quite the perfect picture of repose, but it's meant to be restful nonetheless. could he stand, and go get the bedroll, and recline in some manner of comfort? yes, but he's rarely been comfortable in the whole of his life. little point in starting now.
he doesn't sleep, exactly, but he does rest. the sound of wei wuxian's pen scratching across the page as he scribbles notes down becomes an almost soothing white noise, the familiarity of it striking a rhythm alongside the steady beat of his heart. ๏ผ
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๏ผ but it's mild protest, and after adding another log to the fire he relents, and comes to sit a short distance away from him. he draws one leg up, a posture that seems almost the default for him when opportunity arrives. ๏ผ
It isn't mutually exclusive with being an asshole. So I've heard.
no subject
You're not always polite, you just use nice enough words that people don't know when you're actually being an ass to them. [It's impressive, honestly.]
no subject
I'm a man of many talents.
๏ผ he's got layers. like an onion. superpower: making people cry. ๏ผ
no subject
After that the silence that falls over them is comfortable instead of the heavy one from before, and Wei Wuxian exhales into it, exhaustion pulling at his limbs. He won't be sleeping anytime soon, but maybe he'll manage a handful of hours as it gets closer to morning. After a moment, he reaches into his bag and pulls out some talisman drafting notes.
Just because he can't use them here doesn't mean he can't work on them.] Why don't I take first watch? I'm not sleeping for a while either way.
no subject
and then folds his arms across his chest, adjusting his posture so that his chin dips down against his chest, feet crossed at the ankle. it's not quite the perfect picture of repose, but it's meant to be restful nonetheless. could he stand, and go get the bedroll, and recline in some manner of comfort? yes, but he's rarely been comfortable in the whole of his life. little point in starting now.
he doesn't sleep, exactly, but he does rest. the sound of wei wuxian's pen scratching across the page as he scribbles notes down becomes an almost soothing white noise, the familiarity of it striking a rhythm alongside the steady beat of his heart. ๏ผ