"If you keep that up, you're going to fall straight through." Only a father and commander can make that sound like equal parts reprimand, caution, and sage advice. Plus a little bit of joking thrown in.
Ferid does not bother with knocking or asking to come in, at least with his own family. He's already managed to cross most of the room, and stands a few paces away from his son, just looking at him.
Faroush goes from resting his head against the glass to almost fulfilling Ferid's warning and smashing his head through the window by jumping and flinching. He straightens up fast, and spins around to look up at the commander.
"Fer-!" He clamps his mouth down around the name, and keeps his arms firmly held at his sides and his head straight up. He is not supposed to bow, or salute Ferid. At least, not like this.
Faroush's thoughts are reeling, trying to figure out how to respond. Surprisingly, that works to his advantage, and keeps him from babbling. In the end, all he's able to manage are a few stammered words.
And Ferid's reaction to this? Is to blink. And squint a little, trying to figure out what has his son on edge and standing like a soldier at attention.
"Tired? You're also looking tensed up over something." The look Ferid gives him while talking says it all; 'you are sulking, and doing a very bad job of hiding it. Out with it, lest you get head locked.'
Unfortunately, Faroush'd!Lyon has never been on the receiving end of Ferid's fatherly concern before. As such, he has no idea what he's about to get himself into.
"R-really, it's nothing." He shuts his mouth fast before he starts blubbering over things. Maybe he should just find an excuse to get out of the room, so-
Faroush doesn't get time to complete that thought, because Ferid has moved in and now has the prince's head firmly wedged in the crook of his arm. Yelping does nothing to solve the problem, and neither does squirming. It's impossible to get a handhold to break out, partially because of Ferid's grip, and also because he's not used to how this body moves.
"S-STORMFIST!" He manages. Maybe not the full answer, but it is one thing on his mind.
Comments 10
Ferid does not bother with knocking or asking to come in, at least with his own family. He's already managed to cross most of the room, and stands a few paces away from his son, just looking at him.
"What has you sulking like that?"
Reply
"Fer-!" He clamps his mouth down around the name, and keeps his arms firmly held at his sides and his head straight up. He is not supposed to bow, or salute Ferid. At least, not like this.
Faroush's thoughts are reeling, trying to figure out how to respond. Surprisingly, that works to his advantage, and keeps him from babbling. In the end, all he's able to manage are a few stammered words.
"N-nothing. Just tired."
Reply
"Tired? You're also looking tensed up over something." The look Ferid gives him while talking says it all; 'you are sulking, and doing a very bad job of hiding it. Out with it, lest you get head locked.'
Reply
"R-really, it's nothing." He shuts his mouth fast before he starts blubbering over things. Maybe he should just find an excuse to get out of the room, so-
Faroush doesn't get time to complete that thought, because Ferid has moved in and now has the prince's head firmly wedged in the crook of his arm. Yelping does nothing to solve the problem, and neither does squirming. It's impossible to get a handhold to break out, partially because of Ferid's grip, and also because he's not used to how this body moves.
"S-STORMFIST!" He manages. Maybe not the full answer, but it is one thing on his mind.
Reply
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