There was something about it, seeing Axinite a variable margin of 'at ease'; or at least as at ease as Albite could've ever imagined the man to appear. It helped immensely, a visual reassurance that settled his overexcited nerves enough that he could make himself be still. Not statuesque, but easy, loose in stance and steadiness for Jet's approach.
He couldn't help it. Having gone to axinite this way. Needing a second opinion, even in sneaking off to ask for favors under the pretense of making a damned good '
surprise'. Albite knew himself, that he was too much of a pack animal to have ever gone n done this sort of thing alone. If he didn't have his team at his side? (N he wasn't sure how he'd fit them all plus two cats and a pile of wisps into the office without causing a commotion!) Eyes on his back and some secondary approval ---
And Axinites approval was second to none.
His musings skittered for the feeling of energy shifting in the room round Jet; where his palm lay pressed so assuredly over his chest. It reminded him of gravity gradually bearing down until even the very atoms of the air vibrated with shifting static. Even if he'd been there in person to witness Jet get his new fit granted to him? Feeling it, like this? With the man hale, n hearty, and just ******** brimming with all that fresh new energy!
Oh --
it was another thing entirely. Jet felt nothing like anyone he'd ever met before - not Hayhay's lighthearted, claw-tipped transference, or Hessonites fiery, spurred embrace. Not even like Lepidolite -
a bearhug given by a hydraulic press.
Jet was so -
sooo -- Technical in a natural way, a man who'd practiced a craft long enough that he probably had callouses in all the right places; could wield his power as easily as he wielded his bladed staff n all the elements that flared around it.
That gem crusted embroidery; blues, purples, his last visual focal points that kaleidoscoped into a sea of stars. Then subsequently melted into placid emptiness, and this time he didn't drown in waves of freezing stars or empty subspace. He floated atop the surface of a deprivation tank, warm, comforting, shimmering like that cloak -- like his Fiancé's brightest fires, or his friends warmest smiles, the warmth of the midday sun and the anchoring of Earths Moon.
The pain was a gasping afterthought; an easy trade off for sweet nothings that promised power beyond his wildest dreams. Why ever look up again when he was surrounded by the most insulating of holds, when he was right where he belonged?
The headache was pounding, he was shaky and pale; found his mouth dry for want of --
words - water - everything. Yet still he smiled, feral whites that matched the reds of his eyes.
He got, very suddenly, why Aqua trusted Jet so damn much. Lucky b*****d.
"Soh -
holy ********> - how do I look?"
