#angsty mceyeballs
And if Aymeric was a young god, then Estinien—Estinien was his living will, incarnate and hallowed and polished to gleaming.
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The clock tick ticked on the mantel. The sun continued to set. The gentle summer wind whispered on the window and Estinien tried to breathe, to move, to do anything but keep staring. But he was transfixed by the flush on his face and the something else in Aymeric’s eyes; something new and very brittle, gently rising, like a dove on the surge of a thermal or a white cloud of rainfall in the Highlands —
“Estinien?”
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early Temple Knights days like
Estinien:
Aymeric: wow you’re tall
Estinien, blinking down in surprise: … thanks?
Aymeric: how tall are you?
Estinien:… I dunno like 6'9", 6'10" with the cowlick?
Aymeric: [twirling hair] omg “with the cowlick!” you are SO funny
