Stone Circle only bring the rain

Gaze of burning reds and ambers flicked around to meet the eyes of the other - one a honey-champagne, the other a ghostly, misted pale blue; the socket was covered in a fleshy scar (his face and body displayed many), marks of whichever troubles Alarian had faced in his past. The scout did not let his stare linger. 

"I'm sorry."

Mawk's chest throbbed with sorrow, and a guilt tread soft steps across his heart - it was not the younger man's fault, and he could see no reason for an apology to be cast his way. He did not say as much, though, simply offered a half smile, cracked at the edges like a half broken glass. "I don't think so... but I appreciate it regardless." His voice was rough with the scratched throat of one who had been swarmed by emotion, covered in self-loathing as sharp as acapuncture needles prodding into his spine. He was supposed to be the strong one, the helper, the guider, and as a man of five years he had always wanted to be such; why was he not? A failure. 

"I apologise for this being the first time we really meet... my name is Mawk." The man whispered softly, his thoughts tipping toward his passed love, as they always did. I miss you, Illecebra.