The touch reassures Drizzt greatly. It's a soothing gesture, and it allays much of the fear that Drizzt feels for his father's condition for the moment. Instead of fear, awe enters into his eyes. He locks his gaze with that of his father's, not frozen against the touch but stilled, and even when his father looks away, Drizzt remains quiet.
It was more than just a touch, but the most tender of touches that the young drow has never known. Full of emotion, so blatantly showing him affection in a way that Zaknafein had never had before. In a way that Zaknafein, and Drizzt, had never felt safe enough to express before. Even the hug in the gym, when Zak had realized Drizzt had survived the Academy, had been short and intense.
The touch had been more tender than anything Drizzt has experienced in his young life and that Zak had ever dared showed. That, more than any words Zaknafein had said, drove home the fact that they were at last free from that wretched place. It was overwhelming, and for the first time in years, Drizzt not only saw his vision blurring but felt the hot wetness of tears rolling down his cheeks. He had thought the ability to cry had been beaten out of him many years ago by snake-headed whips, but it suddenly came back with force and without any control. In this place, in this new place, Drizzt knows that, as with showing affection, that it is safe to cry.
Even as a lump welled in his throat, Drizzt's heart soared free with a rare and often fleeting emotion--hope.
Drizzt's expression only crumples when Zak isn't looking at him, the tears, silent, only streak across his cheeks when the other elf is looking at the human, but he can't hide the sounds of it forever. He certainly can't hide it from the human, whom is now staring at him with softened eyes. Drizzt's breath hitches and he shudders a gasp for a moment of breath, trying to control the swirl of emotions within him. The young drow brings a hand over his father's, gripping it tightly with trembling fingers.
His father's wounds need to be dealt with, first and foremost, and this Drizzt knows, but one thought overrules everything, striking like a bell at the very core of Drizzt's being; he chokes on a whisper, managing to wrench back some control: "We're free."
/quietly destroys you
It was more than just a touch, but the most tender of touches that the young drow has never known. Full of emotion, so blatantly showing him affection in a way that Zaknafein had never had before. In a way that Zaknafein, and Drizzt, had never felt safe enough to express before. Even the hug in the gym, when Zak had realized Drizzt had survived the Academy, had been short and intense.
The touch had been more tender than anything Drizzt has experienced in his young life and that Zak had ever dared showed. That, more than any words Zaknafein had said, drove home the fact that they were at last free from that wretched place. It was overwhelming, and for the first time in years, Drizzt not only saw his vision blurring but felt the hot wetness of tears rolling down his cheeks. He had thought the ability to cry had been beaten out of him many years ago by snake-headed whips, but it suddenly came back with force and without any control. In this place, in this new place, Drizzt knows that, as with showing affection, that it is safe to cry.
Even as a lump welled in his throat, Drizzt's heart soared free with a rare and often fleeting emotion--hope.
Drizzt's expression only crumples when Zak isn't looking at him, the tears, silent, only streak across his cheeks when the other elf is looking at the human, but he can't hide the sounds of it forever. He certainly can't hide it from the human, whom is now staring at him with softened eyes. Drizzt's breath hitches and he shudders a gasp for a moment of breath, trying to control the swirl of emotions within him. The young drow brings a hand over his father's, gripping it tightly with trembling fingers.
His father's wounds need to be dealt with, first and foremost, and this Drizzt knows, but one thought overrules everything, striking like a bell at the very core of Drizzt's being; he chokes on a whisper, managing to wrench back some control: "We're free."