[ himeka's words had been hard for him to take, that day in godsblood.
but he's had time with them. to think about the sentiment, to fit it into his worldview, into his life here in horos. there was a time when allowing himself such a thing would've been so easy. of course he'd say such a thing to nynaeve, or egwene, or mat, or perrin; of course they'd feel the same for him in turn. but then everything changed, and he's still struggling to understand the ways he's changed with it all. himeka, and his other friends here, have shone a light for him when he needed it. the least he can do is try to return the favor.
there's such a fond smile in return for her, and a nod at her agreement. and, light, the sound of her laugh is so welcome, as it had been before, as abel's was. every little sign that things are inching closer to alright. he can feel the edge of dokja's anxiety, but he doesn't share it...at least, not at first. there's a prick of worry as abel replaces his shard and seems to be — distressed? overwhelmed? and he's about to look backwards when abel's head goes back to his shoulder,
and startles a breathed out laugh from him, just for a second. dokja responds before he can, which is maybe just as well because he isn't even sure how he would. he makes an attempt to keep a straight face, but also abel of all people will be able to tell how his shoulders shake from suppressed laughter. ]
Can you really imagine me using cologne? [ asked as he starts moving, hurrying to keep pace with dokja. they really can't take too long, and they've lingered already. still, he keeps that out of his voice. ] I'd just look and smell daft, trying.
[ he imagines he smells like blood and smoke and ozone and sweat and the light only knows what else. but he's pretty sure dokja doesn't actually ?? have rabies ?? so that's about the level of seriousness we're operating on here. which is why he adds, ]
Dokja's wrong, anyway. I didn't say that.
[ but we're leaving open the possibility that he might've implied that. ]
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but he's had time with them. to think about the sentiment, to fit it into his worldview, into his life here in horos. there was a time when allowing himself such a thing would've been so easy. of course he'd say such a thing to nynaeve, or egwene, or mat, or perrin; of course they'd feel the same for him in turn. but then everything changed, and he's still struggling to understand the ways he's changed with it all. himeka, and his other friends here, have shone a light for him when he needed it. the least he can do is try to return the favor.
there's such a fond smile in return for her, and a nod at her agreement. and, light, the sound of her laugh is so welcome, as it had been before, as abel's was. every little sign that things are inching closer to alright. he can feel the edge of dokja's anxiety, but he doesn't share it...at least, not at first. there's a prick of worry as abel replaces his shard and seems to be — distressed? overwhelmed? and he's about to look backwards when abel's head goes back to his shoulder,
and startles a breathed out laugh from him, just for a second. dokja responds before he can, which is maybe just as well because he isn't even sure how he would. he makes an attempt to keep a straight face, but also abel of all people will be able to tell how his shoulders shake from suppressed laughter. ]
Can you really imagine me using cologne? [ asked as he starts moving, hurrying to keep pace with dokja. they really can't take too long, and they've lingered already. still, he keeps that out of his voice. ] I'd just look and smell daft, trying.
[ he imagines he smells like blood and smoke and ozone and sweat and the light only knows what else. but he's pretty sure dokja doesn't actually ?? have rabies ?? so that's about the level of seriousness we're operating on here. which is why he adds, ]
Dokja's wrong, anyway. I didn't say that.
[ but we're leaving open the possibility that he might've implied that. ]