Or: a seasonal-themed open post. Want to frolic in the spring flowers? Go to a warm, summery beach? Play in the autumn leaves? Have a snowball fight in the middle of winter? Lo and behold, here is the place to do it.
Too bad I cut my hair more frequently. Could've really looked the part. [ Except that was from another time, one before he was reintroduced to society as a person and not a dog. That would be going back quite a few steps, and bringing him to memories he's not fond of reliving if he can help it. But here, in the present, things are... good, for once. His voice carries amusement, still. Especially when he teases Alex. ] You're the only one that's human, and I'm not sure you fully qualify. An ability to do magic means something more.
[ Which would be unfortunate, if someone found out. Punished by his family's own laws. How ironic - the family falls, and still punishes those who have magic in their blood, possibly its own blood.
Normally, Shea tries not to focus on what his senses tell him about Alex. But right now, in the middle of winter, it's like a small patch of warmth, like the lost prince is sun-baked and straight from summer. Emotions are difficult to describe, but he knows how to identify them. And this is a strange kind of happiness.
Quiet as he soaks it in, he carefully lowers his head again, angling it to rest his cheek against the down-soft hair at the back of Alex's head. If he doesn't say anything, maybe he won't have to move, nose tucked down and face hidden. ]
Nah, think I'll pass. [ Maybe he's not book smart, maybe his education has been limited and he doesn't know a lot about numbers and science, but he knows his instincts and trusts them. He knows magic and lore because it's in his blood. And he knows that leaving Alex will be the hardest thing he's ever done, in the end. ] Have a beard again by midday anyways.
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[ Which would be unfortunate, if someone found out. Punished by his family's own laws. How ironic - the family falls, and still punishes those who have magic in their blood, possibly its own blood.
Normally, Shea tries not to focus on what his senses tell him about Alex. But right now, in the middle of winter, it's like a small patch of warmth, like the lost prince is sun-baked and straight from summer. Emotions are difficult to describe, but he knows how to identify them. And this is a strange kind of happiness.
Quiet as he soaks it in, he carefully lowers his head again, angling it to rest his cheek against the down-soft hair at the back of Alex's head. If he doesn't say anything, maybe he won't have to move, nose tucked down and face hidden. ]
Nah, think I'll pass. [ Maybe he's not book smart, maybe his education has been limited and he doesn't know a lot about numbers and science, but he knows his instincts and trusts them. He knows magic and lore because it's in his blood. And he knows that leaving Alex will be the hardest thing he's ever done, in the end. ] Have a beard again by midday anyways.