[Mikleo doesn't move or respond for a long, long moment, breathing in, breathing out, allowing himself to at last feel the difference between what he'd experienced since Sorey walked in the room and now. He can feel the gentle thump-thump-thump of Sorey's heart under his palm. He can feel the soothing warmth of the domain surrounding him. He can feel the familiar, calloused touch of Sorey's hand over his own. He can feel the weight of Sorey's words, the hope and support in his quiet question.
There's no malevolence. There never was; it was all a cruel illusion, and he fell for it. Maybe he ought to feel foolish, but... in truth, all he feels is relief.
He holds his breath and opens his eyes, and the room is his own again. Sorey's in front of him, holding his hand, his eyes full and bright, his body whole and pure, just like always. A tremor passes through his body, and his hand clenches beneath Sorey's.]
no subject
There's no malevolence. There never was; it was all a cruel illusion, and he fell for it. Maybe he ought to feel foolish, but... in truth, all he feels is relief.
He holds his breath and opens his eyes, and the room is his own again. Sorey's in front of him, holding his hand, his eyes full and bright, his body whole and pure, just like always. A tremor passes through his body, and his hand clenches beneath Sorey's.]
I'm okay. I'm okay.