[ The full lower lip released from between his teeth - reddened and damp - quivers now, though his mouth feels parched when the pads of his fingers brush smooth, warm skin over the line of a firm bone. A touch simple, yet it warms him within - the touch itself and that it is Celegorm himself encouraging this -, it comes with a sense of shame though, for he knows, he knows what many would say.
Is it trust? Or is it instinctive terror beyond logic and reason? Where he does as told in fear that disobedience will come with more pain? Here now, there is no one to save him and it is him and him alone who put himself in this situation. Or perhaps it's a little bit of both; for the one who had first pushed him to the edge of ruin, wrathful and cruel in a way that Legolas had not known all his life until now, is the same one who has saved him, and further yet gave him what he needed so very desperately to find some direction in his life again.
Fleeting thoughts, and his fingers are not a limp weight over Celegorm's hand, but blindly Legolas strokes the line of the jaw, the cheek, brushing a corner of a mouth. ]
Against the better judgement, as many would tell me.
[ Dry, desperate humour, to find the courage to lift his gaze. Hesitating, flickering there and back, as if climbing slowly, growing bolder each time, wavering. It hits him then just how tall Celegorm is, for on his own eye level Legolas is still staring just at the bottom of his throat, flushed darkly.
Finally though, head tipped back just a little, he meets the eyes so intent on watching him, fighting claw and tooth for his composure to remain as it is. Ah, but it makes him flush in turn to have all this attention on him, the scorching intensity fixated on him and him alone. ]
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Is it trust? Or is it instinctive terror beyond logic and reason? Where he does as told in fear that disobedience will come with more pain? Here now, there is no one to save him and it is him and him alone who put himself in this situation. Or perhaps it's a little bit of both; for the one who had first pushed him to the edge of ruin, wrathful and cruel in a way that Legolas had not known all his life until now, is the same one who has saved him, and further yet gave him what he needed so very desperately to find some direction in his life again.
Fleeting thoughts, and his fingers are not a limp weight over Celegorm's hand, but blindly Legolas strokes the line of the jaw, the cheek, brushing a corner of a mouth. ]
Against the better judgement, as many would tell me.
[ Dry, desperate humour, to find the courage to lift his gaze. Hesitating, flickering there and back, as if climbing slowly, growing bolder each time, wavering. It hits him then just how tall Celegorm is, for on his own eye level Legolas is still staring just at the bottom of his throat, flushed darkly.
Finally though, head tipped back just a little, he meets the eyes so intent on watching him, fighting claw and tooth for his composure to remain as it is. Ah, but it makes him flush in turn to have all this attention on him, the scorching intensity fixated on him and him alone. ]
You tell me too, is it wise?
[ To trust you, Celegorm. ]