It's okay. This is something I know how to deal with.
[Remember who his twin was, Temenos?
He'll lead the cleric to one of the more shaded seats, lowering himself down into the chair first as far back as possible in a straddle, shrugging off his jacket before tugging Temenos's wrist to join him.
Beelzebub gets to be your pillow this morning, sir.]
[Temenos remembers, but he couldn't have imagined this would be the solution.
He stands there, surprised for a moment as he realizes what Beelzebub is implying, but he doesn't have time to think about it for long. Before he knows it, he's being pulled down onto the chair.
Scooting up, he shifts to swing his legs up onto the chair and nestles himself against Beelzebub's chest. It's comfortable—more than he figured such a "pillow" would be—and he feels whatever strength he had remaining fading fast.]
Remind me to find you a nice snack after this.
[He whispers, lifting his head one last time to plant a sleepy kiss against Beelzebub's jaw before settling in for that long-overdue rest.]
[It's a quiet little chuckle, but he lets Temenos's weight settle against him, throwing his jacket loosely overtop both of them with one arm tucked against the cleric's shoulders, fishing out his D.D.D. with the other to flick through his applications.
Alarm set. How long could he go without food...
...
He'll give it a couple hours. He thinks, for this, he could manage a little longer than usual.
He settles back, and lets the moment be, the familiar and yet new sounds of the cadence of breath that slows into sleep, the way the body relaxes. He'll protect this. It's surprising, how much he wants to, and how sure he is in his feelings.]
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[Remember who his twin was, Temenos?
He'll lead the cleric to one of the more shaded seats, lowering himself down into the chair first as far back as possible in a straddle, shrugging off his jacket before tugging Temenos's wrist to join him.
Beelzebub gets to be your pillow this morning, sir.]
no subject
He stands there, surprised for a moment as he realizes what Beelzebub is implying, but he doesn't have time to think about it for long. Before he knows it, he's being pulled down onto the chair.
Scooting up, he shifts to swing his legs up onto the chair and nestles himself against Beelzebub's chest. It's comfortable—more than he figured such a "pillow" would be—and he feels whatever strength he had remaining fading fast.]
Remind me to find you a nice snack after this.
[He whispers, lifting his head one last time to plant a sleepy kiss against Beelzebub's jaw before settling in for that long-overdue rest.]
no subject
[It's a quiet little chuckle, but he lets Temenos's weight settle against him, throwing his jacket loosely overtop both of them with one arm tucked against the cleric's shoulders, fishing out his D.D.D. with the other to flick through his applications.
Alarm set. How long could he go without food...
...
He'll give it a couple hours. He thinks, for this, he could manage a little longer than usual.
He settles back, and lets the moment be, the familiar and yet new sounds of the cadence of breath that slows into sleep, the way the body relaxes. He'll protect this. It's surprising, how much he wants to, and how sure he is in his feelings.]
Sleep well, Temenos.