Emberwood Till I'm Swept Up by the Shape of All the Centuries

Flooding. He's flooding. Emotion welled up in his chest has been given its spout and the result is what one might expect. The gentle warble of his own voice which falls on his ears might as well be silence; Dante's mind is far. It has meandered past the bounds of physical realities in the moment, his senses numbed to all but is own inner turmoil. 

He's sure that's why he misses the footsteps that creep up on him. It is only when the accented voice, thick and almost round in its sound, registers on Dante's ears that the young man is suddenly jerked into the present, the realization of just how pathetic he must have sounded subsequently followed by a sharp, hitching breath. His lanky form jolts with its new self-awareness, olive eyes wide and glassy as they fix directly upon the socrnful argent gaze that's found him in the peak of his vulnerability. For a lingering moment Dante remains where he is, feeling not unalike to stranded fawn where he lays alone in the grass, soaked and probably looking thoroughly mad. The stare he's recieving from the ginger figure is unnerving, his eyes flicking away and from theirs and flitting over the clear disdain in their features as he attempts to gather himself, still stuck in his open, unarmed pose.

Just as his maw parts to try to respond to the stranger- he hasn't got a damn word in his mind yet but anything would be better than allowing the silence he's been flustered into to continue on- an unmistakable scent reaches Dante, and finally he's snapped out of his paralysis. The boy's head snaps to the side just before her voice rings out, his body haphazardly fumbling to an unsteady sitting position. His head flicks back and forth in a way he might find comic if he wasn't so fucking embarrassed right now, what with his mouth stuck half-open and his face feeling hotter than bay rocks in midsummer. 

Uhm- he clears his throat, gaze still flitting back and forth uncertainly as he calls back out to his love, Hi, sorry I was just- I'm... The trailing off of his voice is accompanied by Dante rising on wobbly feet to stand, unable to help a sniffle that escapes him. He's torn right now, unsure as to how to navigate the social situation in a way he almost never is- it's rather funny, if he thinks about it. He throws Lumiya a fond look, hoping the quick tilt of his head communicates that she ought to join him where he stands before he turns to finally address the stranger. Wasn't, he tries, but the joke is clouded with leftover emotion and he winces at his own poor attempt to make light of the situation. S'nothing. Just, you know what they say, winds of change or summat, what the fuck is he saying? You're um, he glances around briefly on your lonesome, then? It's not fixed, really, the situation. He's still quite obviously balancing on the edge of an odd post-tearful state, but he'd like to think his attempts to redirect th conversation are valiant as they could be.