[L's eyes are drawn skyward, more often than not. The touch of rain, glance of starlight and yawning silence of questions unanswered all come from that source, home to comfort and yearning alike.
His earthly form, and the one that appears in dreams, isn't capable of flight, and cannot vanish into vapor even if his edges seem uncertain, wispy, and translucent. Grounded, with narrow shoulders hunched according to the laws of a forward-curved spine, L seems made instead to look at the earth, the details in the dirt and dust that others might miss. He's good at it, of course, both discerning and creating; as the staff moves in the sand, what he knows, and owns, it comes together in meticulous and graceful characters. They're combined uniquely and elegantly, and though blood would make them stronger, Myr can watch, here, and it's therefore out of the question.
Just more care, and time, and precision will have to make up for it.
He writes until Myr is asleep, and then after, until every eye is closed. They are still present, as well as the wounds and flesh, but they seem softer and soothed as though spread in balm. It's beyond his current skill to heal, or cover completely, but he believes that won't always be the case. He's always studying, always working, always growing, even if his form is lopsided and stunted in places. He has some faith that his infinite potential in one narrow arena can help Myr, even if all the rest has never enamored anyone.]
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His earthly form, and the one that appears in dreams, isn't capable of flight, and cannot vanish into vapor even if his edges seem uncertain, wispy, and translucent. Grounded, with narrow shoulders hunched according to the laws of a forward-curved spine, L seems made instead to look at the earth, the details in the dirt and dust that others might miss. He's good at it, of course, both discerning and creating; as the staff moves in the sand, what he knows, and owns, it comes together in meticulous and graceful characters. They're combined uniquely and elegantly, and though blood would make them stronger, Myr can watch, here, and it's therefore out of the question.
Just more care, and time, and precision will have to make up for it.
He writes until Myr is asleep, and then after, until every eye is closed. They are still present, as well as the wounds and flesh, but they seem softer and soothed as though spread in balm. It's beyond his current skill to heal, or cover completely, but he believes that won't always be the case. He's always studying, always working, always growing, even if his form is lopsided and stunted in places. He has some faith that his infinite potential in one narrow arena can help Myr, even if all the rest has never enamored anyone.]