okay but tristan withering away in a war he doesn't want to fight, staring down at hands that have killed and saved, and only wanting a kiss. all he can think of to get him through the terror, all that gives him the strength to keep moving and get back home, is the thought of a tender kiss. just some softness, some gentleness, when those things have been so foreign he doesn't even really understand them anymore, can't recognize their true shape on his tongue, but he knows he wants it and thinks maybe if he gets it then he will be okay, he will be whole, he will be healed and cleansed of the dirt and death and loss.