（ the air seems emerald green all around them, and cy's fingers tighten in the clench of contact, tugging him a little nearer. ）
It's beautiful.
（ even if there's a sadness there, that this place was unmade. that nothing can go back to how it was. the sorrow and grief that fills him then is not just empathy — it's knowledge that runs soul-deep, what it means and what it costs to destroy a home, or to survive a destroyed one. sasuke was eight, he said, when the world came down around him. eight, and yet still this memory is not timeworn. it's perfect, and whole, and the loneliness of a boy who outlived both the physical place and more importantly, the lives within these walls winds him with a sudden intensity.
he'd meant this to be a happy thing — and it was, and it is. but neither does he make any especial effort to conceal the fact that his lashes are tear-damp, nor that when he turns to sasuke it's with the clear and direct intent of slouching to bury his face against his shoulder. ）
no subject
It's beautiful.
（ even if there's a sadness there, that this place was unmade. that nothing can go back to how it was. the sorrow and grief that fills him then is not just empathy — it's knowledge that runs soul-deep, what it means and what it costs to destroy a home, or to survive a destroyed one. sasuke was eight, he said, when the world came down around him. eight, and yet still this memory is not timeworn. it's perfect, and whole, and the loneliness of a boy who outlived both the physical place and more importantly, the lives within these walls winds him with a sudden intensity.
he'd meant this to be a happy thing — and it was, and it is. but neither does he make any especial effort to conceal the fact that his lashes are tear-damp, nor that when he turns to sasuke it's with the clear and direct intent of slouching to bury his face against his shoulder. ）