[He pulls his hand away and leans in slightly to inspect the trunk. It's perfect, like nothing has ever hurt it, and it lifts a weight off his heart and his shoulders. He runs his fingers reverently up the trunk until he can't reach any higher, then leans against it, his head nestled against the crook of a low branch.]
More often lately, Jonathan initiates conversation. Dio does not want to speak with him. Or see him. Or think about him. He'll rise when Jonathan speaks to him, or challenges him, because to do otherwise is weak, he thinks. But he doesn't want it.
no subject
[He pulls his hand away and leans in slightly to inspect the trunk. It's perfect, like nothing has ever hurt it, and it lifts a weight off his heart and his shoulders. He runs his fingers reverently up the trunk until he can't reach any higher, then leans against it, his head nestled against the crook of a low branch.]
More often lately, Jonathan initiates conversation. Dio does not want to speak with him. Or see him. Or think about him. He'll rise when Jonathan speaks to him, or challenges him, because to do otherwise is weak, he thinks. But he doesn't want it.