Tuktu Weir confessions of a sociopath

del scowls at trajan's laughter, even as he recognizes it as something soft and not something intended to bite. he's not really sure what to do with these feelings - something misty like affection and wistfulness, and he's only just met the soldier but he feels the same connection he feels with mato and seabreeze, and maybe that's what tindómë really is, these intricate, fast-formed bonds. delight's never been around to witness the birth of a pack but he's beginning to understand the desire. 

the nickname burns him like every other peaceful affection trajan's offered, but he doesn't mind so much. that is, until - "more like, okay first i'm not a kid, second, handsomely, uh, handsome, and not embarrassed at all," the singing-sunlight insists, reappearing around that large tree with a frown to match the roman's smirk. (all told, he could probably do this forever, walking with trajan and exploring his new home, even if the man insisted on calling him, ugh, cute.)