[This is not the first time when Silco had called him beautiful, directly or not. It had been that acceptance born from fearless curiosity towards the abnormalities of Richard's body that had caught his interest. There had been no judgement or disdain from the older man when Richard had revealed his body to him for the first time.
However, unlike the previous times, the words did not quite reach him. There is no hope blossoming in his chest, no shy warmth spreading to his cheeks or desire rekindling within him. Instead, there was almost a sad hum of acknowledgement from him, fingers curling around the soft edges of the towel. 'Beautiful with or without horns,' or so he says. Richard can't help but wonder what he would say if he truly saw his brothers, wrapped in golden light. Would Silco be mesmerized by their beauty or run away from their blinding light.
He's not entirely sure what he feels about the subject moving to his young son. But he supposed that it was normal for parents to talk about their children. But the boy was basically a stranger to him. Yet another person that he kept at arm's length]
He is like a spitting image of his mother. [He nods, stepping outside of the bathroom now that they're both dry.] He was born during the time of peace, so he has had more freedom than what me and my brothers did in our childhood. And so far it appears that his interests lie in different subjects as I did at his age.
no subject
However, unlike the previous times, the words did not quite reach him. There is no hope blossoming in his chest, no shy warmth spreading to his cheeks or desire rekindling within him. Instead, there was almost a sad hum of acknowledgement from him, fingers curling around the soft edges of the towel. 'Beautiful with or without horns,' or so he says. Richard can't help but wonder what he would say if he truly saw his brothers, wrapped in golden light. Would Silco be mesmerized by their beauty or run away from their blinding light.
He's not entirely sure what he feels about the subject moving to his young son. But he supposed that it was normal for parents to talk about their children. But the boy was basically a stranger to him. Yet another person that he kept at arm's length]
He is like a spitting image of his mother. [He nods, stepping outside of the bathroom now that they're both dry.] He was born during the time of peace, so he has had more freedom than what me and my brothers did in our childhood. And so far it appears that his interests lie in different subjects as I did at his age.