(Untitled)

[thanitohercules]

*did we hear a request for an emo prince? no? well, nonetheless, here's one, and a Horatio who is returning home will find him out behind their house. he's left the doors open, so the trail is not difficult to follow

Comments

[truant_horatio]

*Horatio comes out behind him, in the dark light, and quietly sits, so that they're even on the grass*

*he's been gone for a week, too long--every passing of time is too long if he isn't with Hamlet, because he worries, he always worries--his heart is perhaps one-hundred and seventy-five beats a minute, but now it's two-hundred, an anxious two-hundred. and it's been too long, so he sits by Hamlet, waiting to be needed as if it's an apology for the crime of leaving*

[thanitohercules]

*he goes on writing, goes on scratching at the parchment with a dry pen, until he realises that there's no ink-- and then with a searching hand that's a little frantic, he pats down the grass around him, looking for an inkwell that is nowhere to be found*

*--and perhaps, in the process of this, his hand will find something warm, will come down upon Horatio's leg and then jump back, for he hadn't noticed anyone else was there*

[truant_horatio]

*rests his hand on Hamlet at once, without much noticing where--it's just important that he touch in a gentling way, somehow calming if it's possible--and touches his shoulder with the other hand, very softly, without speaking*

[thanitohercules]

*and this is a Hamlet that's inching closer, moving his hands again closer, for they had moved away seemingly on their own accord-- and his expression, when he moves his chin an angle to look at Horatio straight-on, is on of quiet desperation, almost of despair, not marked, not like something has happened, no, but simply like he's remembered that he has worries*

[a_bit_obtuse]

*hello, his very existance is a request for an emo prince*

[thanitohercules]

*awwww, that's awfully sweet*