"You've always challenged me. I'd say it's part of your charm."
He squeezes Anduin's arms, trying to offer what little reassurance he can. Is this reassuring? He's not... entirely sure, but he hopes it is. Closeness seems to be comforting for him. It isn't something Wrathion himself is... exactly used to, but he can try. For Anduin, he has been trying. Carefully.
He hesitates, then shifts his fingers just enough that Anduin can lace his own through the hand he's covering. Is that better? Is that how this is done?
Anduin lets out a breath that might have been a laugh, in another life, his lips twisting their way into a watery smile.
He still feels... Raw. As if Wrathion has taken some sort of blade and flayed him wide open to leave his heart sitting right out there in the open for the world to see. He's not sure it will fit so easily back into his chest, not without some time, patience, and careful manipulation.
Anduin shifts his hand and tangles his fingers between Wrathion's, gripping his hand tightly in his own as he takes a moment to further gather himself back together.
"Trust a dragon to find appeal in such a trait," Anduin counters, though with an obvious fondness creeps into his voice as he does.
"I know I am a challenging companion myself. I assume there is some enjoyment in it for you."
If Anduin preferred an easier life, after all, he surely has much better options for friends? Wrathion has things in his favour -- he's handsome, intelligent, interesting -- but he's well aware of his own flaws as well. A less patient, less kind person might say that some days they outnumber the advantages.
"Where would the pleasure be in a companion who deferred to my every word or desire?" he asks, before shaking his head. "I do not require another servant, Wrathion. What I need..."
He seems to consider this, what to say and how to phrase it. He does not want to embarrass his friend, and yet.
"What I need is someone who knows how to question me when I need it, while never asking me to become someone that I am not," Anduin says, at last. Wrathion has teased, of course. But he has also sat there with him, in the quiet, when his thoughts had become too heavy. He has cheered him up with games of Jihui. He has poured him drinks and distracted him with meandering conversation. He has -- stood here on this shoreline, and withstood Anduin's roiling emotions and he has not run away yet but instead offered him his hand in support. He has called him soft, of course. But he has never expected him to change, and Anduin appreciates that more than he can say.
Wrathion studies Anduin, the blue of his eyes and the bright gold of his hair. The softness of his smile. This close, it is easy to see the slight redness around his eyes from the earlier upset -- the shadows lack of sleep has given him. The faint imperfections in his skin.
Anduin has grown since he was the shorter-haired prince who hobbled around the Tavern in the Mists, playing games with him and laughing at him. The scant few years have aged him so quickly.
Humans are so delicate.
Anduin may be afraid to lose him, but Wrathion doesn't know how to admit to him the other way around is a near certainty even if no harm comes to either of them.
His fingers flex into Anduin's arms, eyes dropping away for a moment as he thinks then lifting back up -- brow furrowing.
"I would never wish you to be anyone else," he says softly, "than the man who has tried so hard to offer me his friendship, even despite the suffering my family and I both have caused him."
"Wrathion..." Anduin replies, gently, searching his companion's face and wishing he knew exactly what he could do to coax that frown back off of it. He thinks, perhaps, he has already been too emotional in front of him as it is -- he is not certain how much any further gestures might be tolerated. Still.
He reaches with his free hand out across the space between them, pinching his fingers in the front of Wrathion's jacket and tugging it slightly.
"I see before me a black dragon who is more than the summary of the sins of the past. He is clever and brave. Handsome," his lips quirk at this a little, "strong and steadfast to his beliefs. He has made mistakes, some of which cost him dearly. But I believe his heart is true."
Wrathion's eyes drop hesitantly to the hand gripping his jacket, trying to discern meaning from it.
Clever, brave and handsome. These things are all of course true, but... still pleasant to hear. His frown softens a little, and his hands slide away from where they were resting on Anduin's upper arms -- one still laced through Anduin's other hand. He realises belatedly, hesitates then... keeps hold of it, covers the hand so it's gently enveloped between both his own.
His tongue runs over his teeth, and he scrambles for something clever to say.
"Well," he says finally, "as was noted, he had some help along the way."
Anduin glances down at where Wrathion has moved to take his hand in between his own, his fingers curling in between Wrathion's gloved hands. It is a tentative touch given on his companion's part, and he can tell that Wrathion is not entirely certain of himself in it. Yet he is still offering, and for Anduin, that means the world.
He raises his eyes back up to Wrathion, offering him a soft and gentle smile as he does.
"He will always have that help available to him," Anduin says, softly. "Should he require it."
It has been Anduin's point all along, of course. Not that he insists on putting himself in Wrathion's business, as had been implied earlier. Just that -- he is there for him. He always has been, for as long as they both have known each other.
This is reaching the limit of Wrathion's tolerance now.
He smiles, a little uncomfortable, and squeezes at Anduin's hand.
"And his help is always available in turn," he adds. "Now, perhaps we should find something to eat."
Away from the melancholy of the coast, the sight of the mermaids and safely somewhere warm. Also, around people which may help Anduin feel... comforted? By the presence of others? Is that how it works? Wrathion isn't sure, but it seems worth a try.
Head a little cooler than before, Anduin can see the strain in Wrathion's smile. He understands this has probably been a lot for Wrathion to withstand, though withstand it he has, and here he is at the end of it holding Anduin's hand at that. His trust, his support, means more to Anduin than he can say.
"Of course," Anduin says, softly. "Let's go and get ourselves out of this wind. And Wrathion?"
He tightens his fingers on Wrathion's jacket, just to hold him there for a moment longer. Tilting his head back slightly so he might look Wrathion in the eyes, he offers him a soft, warm smile.
The fingers still fastened into the lapels of his outwear are making Wrathion feel...
Something he cannot quite place. A mixture of unease and... something. His heart is beating faster. Can Anduin feel it, with his fingers latched so tightly into the fabric, or is his hand far enough away to avoid that?
He needs to pull himself together. He thinks he might be staring. The silence is going on far too long. He's staring to feel uncomfortably warm.
"You're most welcome," he manages. "Perhaps we might find a warm drink, too. Hermione made me one after the incident in the stairwell."
Back on the topic of food. Food and drink. Food and drink and getting out of the wind. He hesitates, as if reluctant to break the moment, then moves to release Anduin's hand and turns to begin walking back toward the tower.
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He squeezes Anduin's arms, trying to offer what little reassurance he can. Is this reassuring? He's not... entirely sure, but he hopes it is. Closeness seems to be comforting for him. It isn't something Wrathion himself is... exactly used to, but he can try. For Anduin, he has been trying. Carefully.
He hesitates, then shifts his fingers just enough that Anduin can lace his own through the hand he's covering. Is that better? Is that how this is done?
no subject
He still feels... Raw. As if Wrathion has taken some sort of blade and flayed him wide open to leave his heart sitting right out there in the open for the world to see. He's not sure it will fit so easily back into his chest, not without some time, patience, and careful manipulation.
Anduin shifts his hand and tangles his fingers between Wrathion's, gripping his hand tightly in his own as he takes a moment to further gather himself back together.
"Trust a dragon to find appeal in such a trait," Anduin counters, though with an obvious fondness creeps into his voice as he does.
no subject
"I know I am a challenging companion myself. I assume there is some enjoyment in it for you."
If Anduin preferred an easier life, after all, he surely has much better options for friends? Wrathion has things in his favour -- he's handsome, intelligent, interesting -- but he's well aware of his own flaws as well. A less patient, less kind person might say that some days they outnumber the advantages.
It's good Anduin is both kind and patient.
no subject
I assume there is some enjoyment in it for you.
"Where would the pleasure be in a companion who deferred to my every word or desire?" he asks, before shaking his head. "I do not require another servant, Wrathion. What I need..."
He seems to consider this, what to say and how to phrase it. He does not want to embarrass his friend, and yet.
"What I need is someone who knows how to question me when I need it, while never asking me to become someone that I am not," Anduin says, at last. Wrathion has teased, of course. But he has also sat there with him, in the quiet, when his thoughts had become too heavy. He has cheered him up with games of Jihui. He has poured him drinks and distracted him with meandering conversation. He has -- stood here on this shoreline, and withstood Anduin's roiling emotions and he has not run away yet but instead offered him his hand in support. He has called him soft, of course. But he has never expected him to change, and Anduin appreciates that more than he can say.
no subject
Anduin has grown since he was the shorter-haired prince who hobbled around the Tavern in the Mists, playing games with him and laughing at him. The scant few years have aged him so quickly.
Humans are so delicate.
Anduin may be afraid to lose him, but Wrathion doesn't know how to admit to him the other way around is a near certainty even if no harm comes to either of them.
His fingers flex into Anduin's arms, eyes dropping away for a moment as he thinks then lifting back up -- brow furrowing.
"I would never wish you to be anyone else," he says softly, "than the man who has tried so hard to offer me his friendship, even despite the suffering my family and I both have caused him."
no subject
He reaches with his free hand out across the space between them, pinching his fingers in the front of Wrathion's jacket and tugging it slightly.
"I see before me a black dragon who is more than the summary of the sins of the past. He is clever and brave. Handsome," his lips quirk at this a little, "strong and steadfast to his beliefs. He has made mistakes, some of which cost him dearly. But I believe his heart is true."
no subject
Clever, brave and handsome. These things are all of course true, but... still pleasant to hear. His frown softens a little, and his hands slide away from where they were resting on Anduin's upper arms -- one still laced through Anduin's other hand. He realises belatedly, hesitates then... keeps hold of it, covers the hand so it's gently enveloped between both his own.
His tongue runs over his teeth, and he scrambles for something clever to say.
"Well," he says finally, "as was noted, he had some help along the way."
There.
no subject
He raises his eyes back up to Wrathion, offering him a soft and gentle smile as he does.
"He will always have that help available to him," Anduin says, softly. "Should he require it."
It has been Anduin's point all along, of course. Not that he insists on putting himself in Wrathion's business, as had been implied earlier. Just that -- he is there for him. He always has been, for as long as they both have known each other.
no subject
He smiles, a little uncomfortable, and squeezes at Anduin's hand.
"And his help is always available in turn," he adds. "Now, perhaps we should find something to eat."
Away from the melancholy of the coast, the sight of the mermaids and safely somewhere warm. Also, around people which may help Anduin feel... comforted? By the presence of others? Is that how it works? Wrathion isn't sure, but it seems worth a try.
no subject
"Of course," Anduin says, softly. "Let's go and get ourselves out of this wind. And Wrathion?"
He tightens his fingers on Wrathion's jacket, just to hold him there for a moment longer. Tilting his head back slightly so he might look Wrathion in the eyes, he offers him a soft, warm smile.
"Thank you."
no subject
Something he cannot quite place. A mixture of unease and... something. His heart is beating faster. Can Anduin feel it, with his fingers latched so tightly into the fabric, or is his hand far enough away to avoid that?
He needs to pull himself together. He thinks he might be staring. The silence is going on far too long. He's staring to feel uncomfortably warm.
"You're most welcome," he manages. "Perhaps we might find a warm drink, too. Hermione made me one after the incident in the stairwell."
Back on the topic of food. Food and drink. Food and drink and getting out of the wind. He hesitates, as if reluctant to break the moment, then moves to release Anduin's hand and turns to begin walking back toward the tower.