[For a moment after he's finished speaking, he realizes that what he's said lacked the intensity of what Reynir said, lacked the same overt emotional openness, and he worries that he hadn't been good enough. But Reynir is smiling at him, that big bright wide grin that lights up the space around himself, somehow mesmerizing and completely foreign and confusing all at once. Reynir's eyes are shiny and he absolutely beams, and Onni's worry settles. The vows were for Reynir, after all, and it doesn't matter what any of the other observers think about what he said, because it's obvious that Reynir liked them.
Onni squeezes his hands a little, while the witch running the ritual does the completion of the spell, binding them together. He keeps looking at Reynir, his brows furrowing slightly as he feels that wash of warmth, intense like a ray of hot sunshine in the summertime, heating him from the inside out. And he can feel, at the same time, something inside himself opening up to the Icelander, vulnerable, a massive open space that's completely unguarded against him. It's a rush that is both terrifying and comforting at the same time, a gaping hole in his soul that doesn't hurt, that's sensitive, that releases some of the bound up pressure in him. Loosens the restraint that's been holding back all the intensity inside of him, and it's terrifying, a loss of control he can't tolerate and craves at the same time.
For a moment, he can't breathe, just looking at Reynir as the other man asks if he can feel that, asks if he's okay. Onni's fingers are still tight around Reynir's hands, and he realizes that his expression must be giving away what he's feeling. The fear and relief, the vulnerability, the overwhem.]
I'm okay. Are you okay?
[His voice is tight and he realizes his eyes are wet. Blinking a few times to dry them, he takes a tentative breath, and nods.]
no subject
Onni squeezes his hands a little, while the witch running the ritual does the completion of the spell, binding them together. He keeps looking at Reynir, his brows furrowing slightly as he feels that wash of warmth, intense like a ray of hot sunshine in the summertime, heating him from the inside out. And he can feel, at the same time, something inside himself opening up to the Icelander, vulnerable, a massive open space that's completely unguarded against him. It's a rush that is both terrifying and comforting at the same time, a gaping hole in his soul that doesn't hurt, that's sensitive, that releases some of the bound up pressure in him. Loosens the restraint that's been holding back all the intensity inside of him, and it's terrifying, a loss of control he can't tolerate and craves at the same time.
For a moment, he can't breathe, just looking at Reynir as the other man asks if he can feel that, asks if he's okay. Onni's fingers are still tight around Reynir's hands, and he realizes that his expression must be giving away what he's feeling. The fear and relief, the vulnerability, the overwhem.]
I'm okay. Are you okay?
[His voice is tight and he realizes his eyes are wet. Blinking a few times to dry them, he takes a tentative breath, and nods.]
I feel it.