[ Disappointment might color his words but not his expression, ever curious, ever receptive, if the one speaking is the man he's come to trust so implicitly. Pinocchio's blue eyes, so doll-like, fix on him across the negligible space, their blue irises complemented by the aquamarine tableau beyond his room's windows. Here they are, with the puppet's fingers twined through his dark hair and their brows together, and he still feels a distance carving space out between them.
Solitude has been a factor in both of their lives, defining them in different ways. He cannot imagine a "him" without his friend, and the idea he might try to carry on without the support that Pinocchio attempts to offer... makes his clockwork heart quail in a strange way, unfamiliar.
It feels like failure. A bad boy, a poor friend, an insufficient soldier, a blunted tool. His fingertips dig into his scalp a little, clutching him tightly. The sound of Wriothesley's weary chuckle makes his heart ache. ]
How can I be sure, if you don't tell me? [ Even if he told him to pull the moon down from the heavens, he would try. So what, then, can truly be called out of reach? ]
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[ Disappointment might color his words but not his expression, ever curious, ever receptive, if the one speaking is the man he's come to trust so implicitly. Pinocchio's blue eyes, so doll-like, fix on him across the negligible space, their blue irises complemented by the aquamarine tableau beyond his room's windows. Here they are, with the puppet's fingers twined through his dark hair and their brows together, and he still feels a distance carving space out between them.
Solitude has been a factor in both of their lives, defining them in different ways. He cannot imagine a "him" without his friend, and the idea he might try to carry on without the support that Pinocchio attempts to offer... makes his clockwork heart quail in a strange way, unfamiliar.
It feels like failure. A bad boy, a poor friend, an insufficient soldier, a blunted tool. His fingertips dig into his scalp a little, clutching him tightly. The sound of Wriothesley's weary chuckle makes his heart ache. ]
How can I be sure, if you don't tell me? [ Even if he told him to pull the moon down from the heavens, he would try. So what, then, can truly be called out of reach? ]