[ graves has a vague idea of what credence intends to do, even if he doesn't have specifics -- there are times when even credence's thoughts are shaded from him, and now, too; even if the intent is clear. credence intends to do something about his mother for the sake of his kingdom, and graves would follow him wherever he goes, would pay any price for his prince's sake. ]
I will follow you to the ends of the earth. [ he murmurs, washing him, gentle and kind -- he is a fierce warrior, merciless and efficient, but in moments like these he is what credence needs him to be. he leans forward to let credence rest on him, a hand coming to gently curve over the back of his neck in comfort. ] It'll come when it comes. I would rather have some time left with you.
Hopefully we will not have to go that far. [ his voice is soft and his eyes are closed as he leans into the comforting touch, knees drawn up almost to his chest. he knows that graves would do anything for him and credence loves him for it. loves him too much, likely, but there's little to be done for that.
still, he manages a faint smile. ] You will have all my free time, Percival Graves. Every moment of it.
[ he tips his head again and in the process his lips just barely graze graves' jaw - whether it's on purpose or not is unclear, but the gesture is there and he makes no move to take it back. ] It must be uncomfortable to sit up all night.
[ his beloved prince makes a promise that graves will hold him to, but not now -- not when he's trying to care for himself. he pauses when he feels it, those lips brushing along his jaw; and he wonders if it's by accident or on purpose, even when his pulse leaps and he's never been more aware of his proximity.
he's reaching for a towel to wash him off, and boldly presses his forehead to his, taking a breath as he wonders if it's possible for his prince to feel as he does -- if it matters. the most important thing here is credence and his crown; he will do whatever it takes to restore him to the throne.
he takes a breath. ] It doesn't matter. I'm used to worse.
[ they're so close. they're so close and he loves him and graves has pressed their foreheads together and credence thinks he may die tomorrow to save his country and his breath catches. he doesn't mean to; it's instinctive and accidental but it's there.
he tips his head and their noses brush but there's nothing else - his movement is a little stilted, almost like he's frightened of what's happening. maybe he is, but he wants it nonetheless.
his eyes don't open. ] I don't want you to be uncomfortable.
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I will follow you to the ends of the earth. [ he murmurs, washing him, gentle and kind -- he is a fierce warrior, merciless and efficient, but in moments like these he is what credence needs him to be. he leans forward to let credence rest on him, a hand coming to gently curve over the back of his neck in comfort. ] It'll come when it comes. I would rather have some time left with you.
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still, he manages a faint smile. ] You will have all my free time, Percival Graves. Every moment of it.
[ he tips his head again and in the process his lips just barely graze graves' jaw - whether it's on purpose or not is unclear, but the gesture is there and he makes no move to take it back. ] It must be uncomfortable to sit up all night.
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he's reaching for a towel to wash him off, and boldly presses his forehead to his, taking a breath as he wonders if it's possible for his prince to feel as he does -- if it matters. the most important thing here is credence and his crown; he will do whatever it takes to restore him to the throne.
he takes a breath. ] It doesn't matter. I'm used to worse.
no subject
he tips his head and their noses brush but there's nothing else - his movement is a little stilted, almost like he's frightened of what's happening. maybe he is, but he wants it nonetheless.
his eyes don't open. ] I don't want you to be uncomfortable.