Sword. [While it was generally mandatory for a knight to master both of the weapons it was swordmanship that more often than not what they consider a true proof of ones skills. It's more versatile and intimate weapon, not to mention more practical. Richard himself also preferred the blade over arrows, as it forced him right into midst of the battle, allowing him to feel every death he brings up and close.
Richard keeps pressing kisses around the scarred around, varying between chaste pecks and more intense and open mouthed. He's just about to move lower and follow the previous path set by his fingertips. But when Silco speaks again he stops, muscles tensing up again.
Yes. He absolutely loathes his body, and honestly couldn't imagine anyone who wouldn't feel anger and resentment towards themselves if they were like him. Never truly able to join others in the light, always treading the lonely paths in the dark. He wondered whether Silco was same as him. Maybe the man was pushed by similar demons that ate through his mind, trying to carve the power and light for himself. ]
As do you. [He whispers against the skin, a small defeated sadness creeping to his voice. Richard then shifts again, straightening his legs and lifting himself up enough that he can lean his forehead against Silco's shoulder.] Touch me more.
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Richard keeps pressing kisses around the scarred around, varying between chaste pecks and more intense and open mouthed. He's just about to move lower and follow the previous path set by his fingertips. But when Silco speaks again he stops, muscles tensing up again.
Yes. He absolutely loathes his body, and honestly couldn't imagine anyone who wouldn't feel anger and resentment towards themselves if they were like him. Never truly able to join others in the light, always treading the lonely paths in the dark. He wondered whether Silco was same as him. Maybe the man was pushed by similar demons that ate through his mind, trying to carve the power and light for himself. ]
As do you. [He whispers against the skin, a small defeated sadness creeping to his voice. Richard then shifts again, straightening his legs and lifting himself up enough that he can lean his forehead against Silco's shoulder.] Touch me more.