His expression falls ever more when it's clear Mituna's not watching him. He thought he'd been getting better at this all, but maybe not. Definitely not. Mituna starts to cry and his guts fall out with any remainder of the smile. In it's place is horror and pity. His pusher just up and shatters at the apology.
"BROTHER, NO," He says, quick. "You ain't got a damn thing what all to be saying that for, motherfucker, not a damn motherfucking thing."
His arms wraps around his moirail to bring him close, hand cradling the back of his head, and he tries, this time, to shush him properly. The way Mituna can do for him. Just a soft whistling through too-big teeth. The way the shore would sound sometimes on the quiet nights. It's imperfect, but he tries. He presses a kiss to his horns and to the top of his head every so often in between.
Oh Messiahs, he pities this troll so much his stomach flips with it like a fucker on a grief trapeze.
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"BROTHER, NO," He says, quick. "You ain't got a damn thing what all to be saying that for, motherfucker, not a damn motherfucking thing."
His arms wraps around his moirail to bring him close, hand cradling the back of his head, and he tries, this time, to shush him properly. The way Mituna can do for him. Just a soft whistling through too-big teeth. The way the shore would sound sometimes on the quiet nights. It's imperfect, but he tries. He presses a kiss to his horns and to the top of his head every so often in between.
Oh Messiahs, he pities this troll so much his stomach flips with it like a fucker on a grief trapeze.