"I'd love to look at them again later," Evan admits to Sieglinde. "I don't read modern German either, but your sketches are fairly telling themselves..."
But when Laedo begins to work on the eye proper, Evan's attention is implacably drawn back to watching that distressingly vivid process. It sends fingers of fascinated disgust to know that he's seeing from the outside something that will soon be inside his body, hopefully permanently... hopefully as a part of him.
He does not realize, as Laedo works, that his shoulders are coming further and further up with tension, that he's biting the inside of his lower lip hard. When Laedo instructs him to go lie down, though, that tension comes to a head and Evan slowly pales. There's no escaping what's to come, and Evan is still in no way convinced that this won't hurt as badly as getting the eye removed had. That sagging, empty shell... he's caught by vivid imaginings of how it's going to have to slide between his ravaged eyelids, how it's going to have to re-inflate inside his skull.
The process has gone from fascinating to terrifying.
He stands, taking delicate care, and his look to Laedo is agonizingly uncertain in a way he can't quite conceal. "Alright," he says, nervous speech at best, and heads to his bed, fingers fiddling with the fabric of his pants. He lies down on his back, and immediately feels about ten times more vulnerable. "Alright. How's this?"
no subject
But when Laedo begins to work on the eye proper, Evan's attention is implacably drawn back to watching that distressingly vivid process. It sends fingers of fascinated disgust to know that he's seeing from the outside something that will soon be inside his body, hopefully permanently... hopefully as a part of him.
He does not realize, as Laedo works, that his shoulders are coming further and further up with tension, that he's biting the inside of his lower lip hard. When Laedo instructs him to go lie down, though, that tension comes to a head and Evan slowly pales. There's no escaping what's to come, and Evan is still in no way convinced that this won't hurt as badly as getting the eye removed had. That sagging, empty shell... he's caught by vivid imaginings of how it's going to have to slide between his ravaged eyelids, how it's going to have to re-inflate inside his skull.
The process has gone from fascinating to terrifying.
He stands, taking delicate care, and his look to Laedo is agonizingly uncertain in a way he can't quite conceal. "Alright," he says, nervous speech at best, and heads to his bed, fingers fiddling with the fabric of his pants. He lies down on his back, and immediately feels about ten times more vulnerable. "Alright. How's this?"