Tuktu Weir confessions of a sociopath

damn he laughed anyway. delight bristles slightly, the start of a sulk gathering at the pulled-down edges of his mouth. "i am," he insists, a touch childishly, "and it's not meant to be literal anyway." the wisp remains put out even when trajan relaxes. how is something kidding if it's also a bit true? his earlier opinion of the male's nobility is marred for good.

 but they're to be pack mates and he supposes it doesn't do him any good to stay here and sulk. "i'm joining, yeah," he says to answer, expression still somewhat pouting. he wants to offer a come-back to the wound against his ego, but trajan does have frost-fur, damn it. he settles for shaking his head slightly and padding forward to join the larger male, steeling his shoulders. "so are we by - where it'll be, then?" last the singing-sunlight spoke to mato, he and his girl-friend were still looking for the perfect spot -- a little thrill runs through him at the idea that they might have found somewhere. it certainly makes the whole thing feel more real.