There's a tug, Esteban holding steady on his side, feeling the thread stretch and stretch between himself and Tidus, breathing deeply-- and then the blond jolts forwards like a sprung rubber band-- golden threads stretched across the void, some near, some far-- and Esteban has to physically plant his feet on the ground to keep the entire lurch of his thoughts from having him jolt forwards as well.
Thanks for the warning, Tidus!
There's a blink-- colours and kaleidoscopes and amidst them Inigo-- Inigo!-- and the relief is just as bad as the alarm, and there isn't a second before the both of them collide and Esteban has to scramble-- again-- with the need to protect them, shield them, and the incredible itch to wrap his wings and arms and limbs around him-them-both to keep the rocks from jabbing at them.
Dead Guardians in a ditch, this is confusing. Tidus he reminds himself trying hard to focus on the glass, the sheltered sunlight in his hands, but there is tension unweaving as well, two promises that he's held onto all this time and he's managed, he's managed and it's not a fix, it's not over yet, but it's a step, and Esteban is so glad he's here, so glad he can help them both. He wants-needs to offer comfort, but they're still so far, and it's frustrating that he can't reach across the distance, can't hold them both close, not yet, but he tries to settle his thoughts again.
(Tidus might want to tell him off if he doesn't like hugs. Esteban is clearly the touchy-feely type, and not catching on that the blond might not be.)
Tidus. Warm sunlight and the scent of the sea; salt and grass and light-warmed sand. Playing and movement and eagerness and a smile, brilliant and shared, and a helping hand. Tidus. Warning him and cheering him with stories of purple creatures and water worlds and helping him-- trying to help him find the rope that he needs. Hoping to get to play games with him, hoping to show him the fire dancing he keeps on putting off.
They've got him back. Esteban helped fix this. It's going to be okay.
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Thanks for the warning, Tidus!
There's a blink-- colours and kaleidoscopes and amidst them Inigo-- Inigo!-- and the relief is just as bad as the alarm, and there isn't a second before the both of them collide and Esteban has to scramble-- again-- with the need to protect them, shield them, and the incredible itch to wrap his wings and arms and limbs around him-them-both to keep the rocks from jabbing at them.
Dead Guardians in a ditch, this is confusing. Tidus he reminds himself trying hard to focus on the glass, the sheltered sunlight in his hands, but there is tension unweaving as well, two promises that he's held onto all this time and he's managed, he's managed and it's not a fix, it's not over yet, but it's a step, and Esteban is so glad he's here, so glad he can help them both. He wants-needs to offer comfort, but they're still so far, and it's frustrating that he can't reach across the distance, can't hold them both close, not yet, but he tries to settle his thoughts again.
(Tidus might want to tell him off if he doesn't like hugs. Esteban is clearly the touchy-feely type, and not catching on that the blond might not be.)
Tidus. Warm sunlight and the scent of the sea; salt and grass and light-warmed sand. Playing and movement and eagerness and a smile, brilliant and shared, and a helping hand. Tidus. Warning him and cheering him with stories of purple creatures and water worlds and helping him-- trying to help him find the rope that he needs. Hoping to get to play games with him, hoping to show him the fire dancing he keeps on putting off.
They've got him back. Esteban helped fix this. It's going to be okay.