[Damen creeps quietly through the tunnel, for a man his size. Only the slightest noise of footsteps announces his position, the soft sound of his breath. He's expecting monsters when he turns the corner and finds the nest, not- reptilian corpses scattered about the swampy stone, the smell of them almost overpowering, along with the even less savory scents of sewage and decay.
He doesn't expect the breath-taking sight before him, of an elegant back and blond head bowed toward the wall in exhaustion, a sword held in familiar, fine-boned hands. Light plays over his back and the golden shine of his hair, the grip on his sword hilt. Damen's heart tightens in his chest, too big and pounding as he drinks it in, because he knows those long limbs, the set of his shoulders. How could it be anyone else when just the sight of him fills Damen with a joy indescribable? Even surrounded by carnage, he is beautiful.
Damen takes another step forward, heavier, not trying to be silent now. His booted foot sloshes in the muck, and he says, his voice gone a little rough with emotion, smile threatening to split his face,]
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He doesn't expect the breath-taking sight before him, of an elegant back and blond head bowed toward the wall in exhaustion, a sword held in familiar, fine-boned hands. Light plays over his back and the golden shine of his hair, the grip on his sword hilt. Damen's heart tightens in his chest, too big and pounding as he drinks it in, because he knows those long limbs, the set of his shoulders. How could it be anyone else when just the sight of him fills Damen with a joy indescribable? Even surrounded by carnage, he is beautiful.
Damen takes another step forward, heavier, not trying to be silent now. His booted foot sloshes in the muck, and he says, his voice gone a little rough with emotion, smile threatening to split his face,]
Laurent. You haven't left any for me.