[ Living. Living when he had no right to. Bariyan closes his eyes against Martin's touch, just briefly, a slow flinch. He can't help but think that Martin's presence continues to be a sign that he is dead, or should be; a ghost, a specter, a wraith. But Martin speaks with warmth, and he speaks of life.
Bariyan doesn't understand.
When Koltira offers his hand, it takes Bariyan a long moment before he moves, reaching to take it between both of his own. The weight of Koltira's hand is heavy and solid, and...
He may not know or trust these people, he needs them. Because they were here. Because they were kind. Because he is selfish, and guilty, and afraid-- terrified of being left alone. Left, in a strange place that he knows not at all, with little idea of how he arrived and even less of how to leave.
Bariyan raises his head, his eyes, looks to both Martin and Koltira. ]
I would like that. [ His voice is heavy with melancholy. ] Though I'm sorry. For imposing myself.
no subject
Bariyan doesn't understand.
When Koltira offers his hand, it takes Bariyan a long moment before he moves, reaching to take it between both of his own. The weight of Koltira's hand is heavy and solid, and...
He may not know or trust these people, he needs them. Because they were here. Because they were kind. Because he is selfish, and guilty, and afraid-- terrified of being left alone. Left, in a strange place that he knows not at all, with little idea of how he arrived and even less of how to leave.
Bariyan raises his head, his eyes, looks to both Martin and Koltira. ]
I would like that. [ His voice is heavy with melancholy. ] Though I'm sorry. For imposing myself.