02.Jul.13, 09:17 AM
R’nya’s expression altered, bitter-sweet and sad memories flickering through the shadows of his face, and the bronzerider shifted his gaze from Rhaedalyn’s bright expression to look at the table, and the plated food upon it. He had not had time to finish forming his objections when Rhaedalyn was behind him, and pushing him towards the table. He wanted to play, to lean back against her hands and tease her, but that brought forth memories too. Why couldn’t he shake them, tonight?
Therefore, he obeyed the gentle shoving, stumbling forward and collapsing gracelessly into the chair that had been appointed to him. He picked up the fork, turned his gaze upon the plate of food, and stared at it. A breath later, and he put the fork down, pushing the plate away and shaking his head lightly; the thought of eating made him feel ill. The dessert was given a longing glance. He wanted to eat it, he wanted to make sure Rhaedalyn knew she was worthy of the compliments she had gotten for it earlier that day, but the thought of even stomaching a bite of food – any food – had caused his face to pale sickly in the short time since he’d sat down.
“Sorry.” The word was wrapped in quiet misery, and R’nya folded his arms over the empty table before him, leaning forward to rest his cheek on them, face angled so he could look up at Rhaedalyn. He studied her in the soft glow light, one corner of his lips quirking upwards in fond amusement when she started fidgeting. “Sit with me?” The words were whispered, holding both promise and invitation. He wanted to explain a little more, something beyond the known fact that flights made him odd, but he did not want to spend the entire night outlining his life, either. It would take a while, to find the right words, but if she were prepared to wait, he would try to find them.
Therefore, he obeyed the gentle shoving, stumbling forward and collapsing gracelessly into the chair that had been appointed to him. He picked up the fork, turned his gaze upon the plate of food, and stared at it. A breath later, and he put the fork down, pushing the plate away and shaking his head lightly; the thought of eating made him feel ill. The dessert was given a longing glance. He wanted to eat it, he wanted to make sure Rhaedalyn knew she was worthy of the compliments she had gotten for it earlier that day, but the thought of even stomaching a bite of food – any food – had caused his face to pale sickly in the short time since he’d sat down.
“Sorry.” The word was wrapped in quiet misery, and R’nya folded his arms over the empty table before him, leaning forward to rest his cheek on them, face angled so he could look up at Rhaedalyn. He studied her in the soft glow light, one corner of his lips quirking upwards in fond amusement when she started fidgeting. “Sit with me?” The words were whispered, holding both promise and invitation. He wanted to explain a little more, something beyond the known fact that flights made him odd, but he did not want to spend the entire night outlining his life, either. It would take a while, to find the right words, but if she were prepared to wait, he would try to find them.