Dreamlike, except that the cool air is crisp in his lungs, the tree-laden landscape has an absurd amount of detail, and he can still taste that animal's blood in his mouth. It must be real, unable to recall dreams with as much clarity.
Even stranger than these sudden new abilities in an unfamiliar world -- when he lifts his eyes to focus forward, the display of Gaelio's back, unprotected, greets him. They're close enough that he can see the shift of his shoulder-blades with each stride. He can pinpoint muscular definition underneath the fitted material of a long jacket. It's difficult to wrap his mind around following this man now, but he would rather follow than be followed at the current juncture.
Gaelio is still more trusting than he ought to be. He never turns to look, to check even once or twice on the dangerous man trailing behind him. There is tension in him, surely. It can be read in him from this distance, but tension wouldn't be enough to save him, if at any point McGillis decided on a whim that working with him on these specific answers is more trouble than it's worth.
A fool, as he readily accepts. A friend, McGillis accepts with more ease than he suspects the other would be able to predict.
Only, it surprises him to hear that there had been doubt, any amount of it, any amount that might've survived past that violent act, in regards to McGillis's own nature.
He struggles to understand that part.
Unable to see the expression while receiving the response that surprises, but in a way, it's fitting. Gaelio will demand to be seen, but will never see. Instead, McGillis watches the shuffle of leaves scattering around the other man's footsteps as he listens to him speak. He can allow his features to lapse into pensive unhappiness, with no need to guard against it. ]
We cannot understand each other; that's the sum of it.
[ A mournful note, in an otherwise ruthless conclusion. ]
I won't allow you to succeed, but if you did, if I failed in that, you would not achieve that sort of satisfaction. Not through words or through any other means. You would be wise to devote your understanding only to that end, to keep your revenge simple.
no subject
Dreamlike, except that the cool air is crisp in his lungs, the tree-laden landscape has an absurd amount of detail, and he can still taste that animal's blood in his mouth. It must be real, unable to recall dreams with as much clarity.
Even stranger than these sudden new abilities in an unfamiliar world -- when he lifts his eyes to focus forward, the display of Gaelio's back, unprotected, greets him. They're close enough that he can see the shift of his shoulder-blades with each stride. He can pinpoint muscular definition underneath the fitted material of a long jacket. It's difficult to wrap his mind around following this man now, but he would rather follow than be followed at the current juncture.
Gaelio is still more trusting than he ought to be. He never turns to look, to check even once or twice on the dangerous man trailing behind him. There is tension in him, surely. It can be read in him from this distance, but tension wouldn't be enough to save him, if at any point McGillis decided on a whim that working with him on these specific answers is more trouble than it's worth.
A fool, as he readily accepts. A friend, McGillis accepts with more ease than he suspects the other would be able to predict.
Only, it surprises him to hear that there had been doubt, any amount of it, any amount that might've survived past that violent act, in regards to McGillis's own nature.
He struggles to understand that part.
Unable to see the expression while receiving the response that surprises, but in a way, it's fitting. Gaelio will demand to be seen, but will never see. Instead, McGillis watches the shuffle of leaves scattering around the other man's footsteps as he listens to him speak. He can allow his features to lapse into pensive unhappiness, with no need to guard against it. ]
We cannot understand each other; that's the sum of it.
[ A mournful note, in an otherwise ruthless conclusion. ]
I won't allow you to succeed, but if you did, if I failed in that, you would not achieve that sort of satisfaction. Not through words or through any other means. You would be wise to devote your understanding only to that end, to keep your revenge simple.