PYSCH OTP: Locke/Valen

[thornofcamorr]

Locke Lamora is sitting outside - well, lying outside, on his back, sprawled like a starfish and watching the stars. He's feeling thoughtful, which mostly translates to "depressed" and his eyes glisten a little as he watches the moon and thinks about Camorr. And how stupid he's been. It's a long list

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[cursed_bent]

Valen is also outside, he nearly always is nowadays. He's wearing a pair of loose pants in deference to the more conservative locals, but the gards on his chest, back, arms and face are exposed and glow softly as he walks up to the figure on the ground. "Telling yourself that never works, does it," he says quietly in response to the overheard comment. He crouches by his friend. "Are you alright there, Locke?"

[thornofcamorr]

Locke starts and looks over, and then takes a deep breath, recognizing the glowing and dragging the hand reaching for a knife away. He carries them everywhere. "Gods, Valen. Scared me." He laughs, briefly, and mirthlessly. "I'll be all right."

[cursed_bent]

"Did you expect it to be some other glowing person?" He smiles wryly and sits cross-legged on the ground next to Locke. "Well, at the moment you certainly don't look all right."

[thornofcamorr]

Locke looks back up at the stars, frowning a little. "I haven't stargazed since I lived with the Thieftaker," he says softly, though of course not avoiding the question. "I can't remember any of the constellations, but I'm pretty sure none of these are right."