Bones of Salt

Roman

I placed my hands gently on Jonathan's shoulders, and waited a heartbeat for him to say anything. If he told me he didn't want to be touched, I would respect it. I often felt the same way, and I had no disregard of other people's wishes.

Besides, as Skandar had eloquently put it once, I needed to get my filthy Prophet hands off people until I learned how to master my powers, or I could risk Sensing them, which was like mind-reading, but potentially worse.

I'd done it once, when I was a child, and it had been enough for a lifetime.

Jonathan waited for my next move, though I could feel him tensing under my touch. Ever since we'd met Jason Ducas, he hadn't been the same. Most people wouldn't notice -- I doubted any in our friend group did, but there were a few moments where I felt like I could see the vulnerability he always tried so hard to hide.

It wouldn't do well to think about it. Especially since Jason and Athanasios were famously close as twins, so I doubted the latter would have scared my friend less than the former.

"Lie down," I told Jonathan matter-of-factly, since he wasn't getting the hint.

"Lie down in my arms," I specified.

"What for?" he asked. He tried to keep it cool, and I couldn't see his face, but I could feel his shoulders shaking under my hands now.

"I know what's going to happen," I stated the obvious. "And I'm trying to save both of us some time."

"What?"

"You are going to use Knowledge," I stated. "You are going to faint. I am going to pick you up before you fall. All of this is self-evident. You might as well save us both the trouble, and lie in my arms."

"Make up your mind before the Skill wears off," I advised him. "Otherwise, you'd have slayed the Fadua for nothing."

"It's never for nothing," Jonathan said. 

Some of his feathers had been slighty bented from the Creature, when it lashed out with its cord.

When I straightened them, I heard him wince.

I noticed he was doing his best to keep them closed and skintight.

"You can spread them, you know," I didn't know why I said it, I only wanted him to feel more at ease around me.

"No, thanks. You don't wanna be so close to me, with my span," he joked. "And, by the way, okay -- you can hold me. But only when no one is watching."

"Sure," I replied. "Because it would be more embarrassing than falling and hitting your head in public, which might as well have already happened..."

"And, anyway, you wouldn't," I reassured him. "Because, like I said, I would catch you."

Jonathan huffed, and then went silent. He was probably concentrating.

When he fell back, I caught him. I knew he had told me to think of his passing out like taking a nap, but I didn't think so. Last time, I hadn't exactly caught him -- I had picked him up off the floor, because he was tossing and turning like someone having a powerful nightmare.

Even now, in my arms, he was shaking -- but my grip was strong. His wings were relaxed and they engulfed me, feeling soft and almost electric on my skin at the same time.

In a way, I understood his previous reticence. Having his wings touching me felt good and forbidden, almost like kissing him would have felt like.

But no, kissing him was probably beyond imagining. Or so he'd probably say. And what was my problem, anyway? He was clearly in pain now.