[Sorrel laughs at that, a helpless, amused little 'ha' of good humor at Adasse's preening. Like a cockerel showing his tail for the hens-- or rather, for just one. He pulls back for long enough to drop his outermost robes over a nearby stool, then returns in shirtsleeves only.
Both hands now, curious touch, hands spread wide like wings with finger pinions. He traces the spiraled vines, branches that divide and join again, bold black, simple and beautiful. Sorrel strokes his palms up across long shoulder-bones, to where the branches curve around Adasse's shoulders, then back again, wrapping finally around him in a hug. It seems just right to put his head down against Adasse's spine, to lean there in a loose embrace, warm and loving, and to heave a deep, contented sigh.]
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Both hands now, curious touch, hands spread wide like wings with finger pinions. He traces the spiraled vines, branches that divide and join again, bold black, simple and beautiful. Sorrel strokes his palms up across long shoulder-bones, to where the branches curve around Adasse's shoulders, then back again, wrapping finally around him in a hug. It seems just right to put his head down against Adasse's spine, to lean there in a loose embrace, warm and loving, and to heave a deep, contented sigh.]
I love you...