[It's as if he didn't even register how close he'd been to a concussion, had Violet actually swung down on his temple in the fit of fury that she'd fostered like a spark inside bottled vodka for those few, looming miliseconds before Fenris twisted round to stop her. And it feels that way, because the look within gold eyes that blink in stark bewilderment show nothing but an incredulous shiver of stark shock for those first wordless beats— after Petras touches his shoulder (after Violet slips away, and the world starts throbbing like a headache to the tune of thumping music)— and the crease between his brows runs deep.
It feels that way, because he didn't register it.
Hasn't now, either, with his head shaking once as it rears back, rejecting something else and taking self-awareness out alongside it.]
Am I all right? [Of course he is. He and the others always fight; another day another spat, and violence isn't so farfetched between siblings— not even the unrelated sort.] It was you she was drooling over— are you all right, Fenris? [Comes on so quickly that it's just a naked show of sharp concern laid bare without reaching. Without touching.
His shoulder still tingles with the ghost of Petras' touch.]
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It feels that way, because he didn't register it.
Hasn't now, either, with his head shaking once as it rears back, rejecting something else and taking self-awareness out alongside it.]
Am I all right? [Of course he is. He and the others always fight; another day another spat, and violence isn't so farfetched between siblings— not even the unrelated sort.] It was you she was drooling over— are you all right, Fenris? [Comes on so quickly that it's just a naked show of sharp concern laid bare without reaching. Without touching.
His shoulder still tingles with the ghost of Petras' touch.]