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 Posted: Wed Jan 25, 2012 3:41 pm
Dark brown eyes were pretty dead set on the pins, as if mentally trying to figure out their problem. He looked along the path that the strands of hair flowed, from roots to tips, and back at the clip. Finally, his hands lifted, and his body shifted to a more compromising position, "Well... maybe if you do it like this.." he muttered, as he oh-so casually drew his hands to the pin and unclipped it in a surprisingly gentle way. To follow, he gave a brush to the bangs that were causing such an issue, while his other hand holding the pin made its move to slide into place, pinching the hair closer towards the end, than the center; where most of those pesky hair's lay. Ever so slowly, he retracted his hands, eyes intent on the work he'd done, as if waiting to see if it'd hold true or not. Looked alright to him. The shorter bangs in front were pressed back now, allowing those pale eyes to shine more freely. "How's that?" he asked, reclining back onto the bench, and assuming the position he'd held once before.
With that taken care of, his gaze meandered back to the book, fingers as well. They fiddled with the edges of the pages, "Think it looks alright. It's more annoyin` havin` it in your face, isn't it?" he asked in an idle fashion. He did look up though to match that gaze Sigmund held, smirk flitting across his lips one more. The arm resting behind the other boy adjusted a little, fingers tracing some of the smooth stone, a little closer to the pale figure, "Ya hittin` on me, Sigmund..?" he asked in that same lax tone, expression unchanged.
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Posted: Wed Jan 25, 2012 5:07 pm
That scrutiny. Sigmund's whole world seemed to go quiet while under Branek's gaze, severe, yet somehow compassionate. His heart had jumped into his throat, and his blood pulsed hard in his ears. His stomach reeled with that strange new feeling, like fear that made Sigmund want to giggle. He found himself unable and unwilling to look away, kept his eyes trained upon the dark-eyed boy's much lighter face. Sigmund could only imagine whatever look had crawled across his own. At least neither of them could really see it. Branek seemed to be staring at his clips, now, with an expression that marked deep, puzzled thought.
Sigmund finally found the strength to turn his vision down as Branek reached for him, and he began to stare intently at his hands, which he had folded in his lap. It was a gesture of necessity; he didn't yet know how much sensory input he could take from Branek at a time before he lost it. He didn't want to test the limits, either, but Branek couldn't read Sigmund's thoughts, so the surly boy would test them regardless. Sigmund felt the clips being undone, and Branek taking hold of his hair. The tenderness of the action calmed the pale boy a great deal, slowing his breath and bringing the lids down low over his mercury-colored eyes. When the hands pulled away and Sigmund looked up, he found his view free from the hair that had once obstructed it so often.
“... Yeah, it was a little bit irritating...” Sigmund's voice was tiny, careful. “I guess... I guess I just stopped noticing it.” Branek had gone back to the book, but Sigmund wondered how much attention he paid. “Thank you,” he added, quickly.
Branek's final question brought color to Sigmund's cheeks, pale twin roses that the boy's complexion barely allowed. He looked back to the book as well, tried to lose himself in this page's treatise on the diet of certain forest dragons. “I, uh... I don't really know what I'm doing at all, Branek.”
Sigmund was losing the battle to stay focused on the book. “Do you... do you want me to... ?”
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Posted: Fri Feb 03, 2012 12:48 pm
He naturally smirked at Sigmund's reaction to the adjustment. The guy sure was easily flustered... jumpy too. Was that the right word? Well.. maybe not too much. But regardless, it was clear the guy wasn't used to such bold interaction. Then again, Branek was a pretty bold guy. It wasn't all that big a deal to him, after all. There was a problem, and he fixed it. Simple as that. Besides, it was easier to see those pale eyes now. They sure were light... did anyone ever mistaken him to be blind? Well they were pretty. As if to put the whole picture together again, the brown clad boy let his eyes tour along Sigmund, for a brief moment, before returning to the book as if the moment was done and over with.
He was letting his thumb lightly stroke the soft paper when the other boy spoke up again, easily drawing his attention away. A smile twitched at the corner of his lips at such a question, and his eyes lifted to see-- oh well.. this was interesting.. Those pale cheeks were heated up now, blossoming brightly compared to the stark complexion. Man, oh man... Finally, a laugh lifted from Branek, it was light, and brief. Sigmund was about as innocent as a newborn lamb! ...so it seemed, at least. Shaking his head Branek shifted himself slightly, so he could skootch just a bit closer to Sigmund, the hand that was laying behind them on the bench just barely brushing the sleeve of Sigmund's opposing side. The book in his lap was readjusted too, lifted so a leg could come over and lay on his thigh, the book propped up a bit more once placed back down. What a silly question... But amusing all the same. Clearly Branek was having fun. His eyes returned to the book slowly, that same lackadaisical expression on his face as he turned more pages as if seeking out a specific one, "So.. what'd you say your favorite dragon was?" he asked, veering the subject off with ease. He'd give the guy a break for now... sort of... though that thumb kept brushing the sleeve at random intervals... much like a cat taunting another by letting it's tail thump against the others.
His searching stopped, the pages drawing to a halt and resting finally once a more illustrated image was fallen upon. Clearly, this was Branek's favorite. It was a mountain dragon, all crumbly, and dark like the mountains themselves. Moss, tree's, and other various plant life grew on the large creatures, and their body's were heavy, slowly, but powerful. "These are my favorite's.." he murmured idly, the hand that had been turning pages lifting to let his fingers trace the painted picture slowly.
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