[ They go from standing still to action with a fluency that characterises Ichigo, seemingly to his core - from one moment to the next, they're on the move. Byakuya, of course, is no stranger to speed but Ichigo's decisiveness is an explosive thing, something that mirrors whatever's in his heart, whatever takes up the most room in there, large as the space must be. Before they began this, whatever one might call it (Byakuya knows what he calls it in his own mind, privately, when no one can know or object), he found it off-putting because it seems so unpredictable - those motivations are not, after all, derived from objective criteria, rules you may look for in a scroll or in a book.
Now, he feels himself getting pulled along by the wrist, Ichigo's fingers closed around him the entire way (he rarely thinks about his own body in terms of fragilities or vulnerabilities but right now, like this, his wrist feels strangely thin). He allows it for a good few metres, following along, his mind and chest suddenly, seemingly ablaze at the sensations - the sudden change from distance to proximity, from no physical contact for a month to being, well, man-handled towards the building's exit.
He looks at Ichigo as they walk on, ignoring what guests might or might not be watching. He's like the wind in a way, is Ichigo. Not just the breeze as it travels past on the engawa, nor the storm when it beats against the windows or makes the roof of the Kuchiki mansion rattle. There are middle grounds as well, as is true with all natural power. There are moments when you think the breeze is gentle, then it turns colder or harsher or it dissipates, leaving you hoping for its return, knowing for certain that it'll come because there's no world and no life without it. This is normalcy, this temperamental aspect of it.
You always trust in the constancy, though. You always know.
People are not the same but there are lessons to be learned from the comparison all the same, he thinks. Always, there are things to be learned.
Gently, as they reach the front door, he slips his wrist from between Ichigo's fingers and says, voice quiet and unruffled, as if he hasn't just allowed himself to be pulled across the room: ]
Before we take off anything anywhere - [ He steps closer briefly, close enough that their shoulders brush. Then, he draws away. ] - we should eat.
[ He sticks his hands in the pockets of his long coat and looks away, gaze downcast, as he leaves is to Ichigo to choose what he's in the mood for. Byakuya isn't particularly picky tonight - like Ichigo, he's quite eager to get to the no-clothes stage of the operations. ]
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saviorcomplexed) wrote2025-03-17 12:16 pm
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Now, he feels himself getting pulled along by the wrist, Ichigo's fingers closed around him the entire way (he rarely thinks about his own body in terms of fragilities or vulnerabilities but right now, like this, his wrist feels strangely thin). He allows it for a good few metres, following along, his mind and chest suddenly, seemingly ablaze at the sensations - the sudden change from distance to proximity, from no physical contact for a month to being, well, man-handled towards the building's exit.
He looks at Ichigo as they walk on, ignoring what guests might or might not be watching. He's like the wind in a way, is Ichigo. Not just the breeze as it travels past on the engawa, nor the storm when it beats against the windows or makes the roof of the Kuchiki mansion rattle. There are middle grounds as well, as is true with all natural power. There are moments when you think the breeze is gentle, then it turns colder or harsher or it dissipates, leaving you hoping for its return, knowing for certain that it'll come because there's no world and no life without it. This is normalcy, this temperamental aspect of it.
You always trust in the constancy, though. You always know.
People are not the same but there are lessons to be learned from the comparison all the same, he thinks. Always, there are things to be learned.
Gently, as they reach the front door, he slips his wrist from between Ichigo's fingers and says, voice quiet and unruffled, as if he hasn't just allowed himself to be pulled across the room: ]
Before we take off anything anywhere - [ He steps closer briefly, close enough that their shoulders brush. Then, he draws away. ] - we should eat.
[ He sticks his hands in the pockets of his long coat and looks away, gaze downcast, as he leaves is to Ichigo to choose what he's in the mood for. Byakuya isn't particularly picky tonight - like Ichigo, he's quite eager to get to the no-clothes stage of the operations. ]