👀 zhilan, how do you feel about xerxes?

⧼ 🌱 ⧽ ┊        ❛ HONEST ANSWERS.

❝ About Xerxes? ❞ That's an easy one, isn't it? It feels like a straightforward answer, plain and simple. ❝ He's... someone I feel comfortable with. ❞ But that isn't all there is to it. Not when he lingers on it. Zhilan drops back unceremoniously onto his pillow with a sigh, scrutinizing the patterns on his bedroom ceiling. ❝ Maybe 'comfortable' isn't the right fit. The word I'd use is more unique than just 'comfortable'—but I just couldn't think of it if you asked me. ❞ A thesaurus would be of no aid here.... What he needs are metaphors. His gangly arms source the spare pillow beside him, securing it over his stomach with his elbows acting as pins. Between his brows lies a knot, thoughtful and sincere. ❝ You know that feeling you get when it's cold out? You've been soaked to the bone by the rain, and your shoes are covered in mud. So you kick them off at the door, and there's a fire already waiting for you in the fireplace. A meal for you, too. Maybe... it's your favorite one, homecooked the way that's familiar. ❞ His eyes become lost in the scene he's painted, there in the canvas of his mind. For the first time in days, a smile comes easily to him. Small. Fond. ❝ You instantly feel better after having your meal by the fire, and your difficult journey home is all but forgotten. It's like that, I think. ❞ Listlessly, he tosses onto his side. But there are other pieces, too—one example isn't quite enough. ❝ Or... instead, ❞

❝ When you wind down after laughing really hard. Your stomach hurts and your eyes are watery, but it's in the best way. You feel refreshed, and you're comfortable enough to not say anything else. That's about right, too. ❞ Sightlessly, he fluffs the pillow over his stomach in earnest. Anything to busy his hands to quell a busy mind. Then, he stills. Certain. ❝ ... I feel happy when he's around, is what I'm trying to say. And I trust him. I hope that he trusts me, too. ❞