From time to time, it emerges. Peaks out from the cracks and crevices of the facades they play, but Roland knows it immediately when he sees it. The moment Inigo takes his hand and rests it upon his leg, the flowers catching his attention as the only colorful thing in this entire dome, Roland takes a hold of it before the recognition escapes him. It's the unmistakable sight of the kind boy who he had met so long ago, who had helped him when he was stitching himself back together, who thought of Roland more than Roland thought of himself.
He's here again, by his side, and it melts him thoroughly and utterly. If his limbs grow lighter, almost limper by comparison, it's only because he wants Inigo to know without words that he's more than okay with this. That even as he understands now, the real reason why Inigo asked for a break, he's more than willing to grant both of them such a reprieve.
Roland takes in a deep breath, his chest rising visibly at the motion, before he exhales just as audibly, eyes coming to a close for a second before he looks down at where they're joined by the flowers weaved into links around his hand. And what beautiful flowers too. His free hand attempts to touch the soft petals but he draws back at the last second, too frightened to disturb Inigo and accidentally bruise them at the same time.
So instead, Roland rests his palm against his own lap and watches. Listens to the words Inigo tells him, smiling warmly as more chains are created like flora crawling up a vine.
"She's a well of wisdom." Roland says kindly. His head leans to the side too, planting his temple against the crown of Inigo's hair. "And what would you make of this place then, if that were true? Hm? What would you say if you looked back on this mission after we board back the train?"
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From time to time, it emerges. Peaks out from the cracks and crevices of the facades they play, but Roland knows it immediately when he sees it. The moment Inigo takes his hand and rests it upon his leg, the flowers catching his attention as the only colorful thing in this entire dome, Roland takes a hold of it before the recognition escapes him. It's the unmistakable sight of the kind boy who he had met so long ago, who had helped him when he was stitching himself back together, who thought of Roland more than Roland thought of himself.
He's here again, by his side, and it melts him thoroughly and utterly. If his limbs grow lighter, almost limper by comparison, it's only because he wants Inigo to know without words that he's more than okay with this. That even as he understands now, the real reason why Inigo asked for a break, he's more than willing to grant both of them such a reprieve.
Roland takes in a deep breath, his chest rising visibly at the motion, before he exhales just as audibly, eyes coming to a close for a second before he looks down at where they're joined by the flowers weaved into links around his hand. And what beautiful flowers too. His free hand attempts to touch the soft petals but he draws back at the last second, too frightened to disturb Inigo and accidentally bruise them at the same time.
So instead, Roland rests his palm against his own lap and watches. Listens to the words Inigo tells him, smiling warmly as more chains are created like flora crawling up a vine.
"She's a well of wisdom." Roland says kindly. His head leans to the side too, planting his temple against the crown of Inigo's hair. "And what would you make of this place then, if that were true? Hm? What would you say if you looked back on this mission after we board back the train?"