[ He's aware of the fine figure he cuts, he's adorned it and born his scars with pride, each adding their own story like a masterpiece tapestry. Admiration from others fuels his ego as well, and while he may not strut like a peacock, he certainly carries himself as a man fully aware of how he turns heads. To show his interest, he might lean across a counter to engage in conversation, putting himself on display while also giving someone his undivided attention. It opens doors and hearts, come in handy more than once.
But rarely is there a touch that isn't initiated by him, or friendly in nature. In that regard, he keeps a respectful distance even if he doesn't in any other way. That makes the unexpected warmth of another's hand startling, Suigetsu taking a more tactile approach to appreciation. This kind of thorough examination is... unsettling - it feels almost clinical. He fidgets, leaning his weight from hip to hip. Restlessly shifting under the shinobi's scrutinizing gaze. It makes him rotate his shoulders back before settling again, the muscles shifting as he moves. When he turns, light shifts over the dips and rounds over cords of muscle and feathers emerge from blue shadows as he turns to look at Suigetsu out of the corner of his eye.
Gladio finds himself taking in a deep breath and holding it, then releasing it as if steadying himself. ]
Honestly? [ He had kept it relatively simple, leaving few constraints. ] I just wanted something larger than life. I wanted to look like I could sprout wings and hunt my enemies down.
[ He sucks in a breath when he feels himself instinctively clench his fists, the feathers stretching over his arms shifting in a slow and silent rustle - too slow for any living thing. ]
Heh, turns out I nearly bit off more than I could chew. Couldn't get it done in just one session. I almost didn't make it.
The worst was here - [ Lifting his arm, he gestures beneath it where the skin is thinner, tender. After a pause, he lowers his arm and tucks it behind him to draw a line over the small of his back, underscoring the tail feathers. ] - here...
[ Lowering his arms, he glances down at the last place - looking down at the silent scream of the bird of prey on his pectoral. That one was a killer. Too many nerve endings, not enough alcohol to numb it. He should have listened to the tattoo artist, who cautioned against alcohol for the way it brought a flush to the skin and excited the nerve endings. It was probably twice as sensitive as he would have been otherwise. Still, he grit his teeth and bore the pain until he indulged in it.
Weird, he never talks about it, and here he is 'fessing up to it like Suigetsu's his goddamn doctor. ] If there's a story behind it, only the artist knows.
no subject
But rarely is there a touch that isn't initiated by him, or friendly in nature. In that regard, he keeps a respectful distance even if he doesn't in any other way. That makes the unexpected warmth of another's hand startling, Suigetsu taking a more tactile approach to appreciation. This kind of thorough examination is... unsettling - it feels almost clinical. He fidgets, leaning his weight from hip to hip. Restlessly shifting under the shinobi's scrutinizing gaze. It makes him rotate his shoulders back before settling again, the muscles shifting as he moves. When he turns, light shifts over the dips and rounds over cords of muscle and feathers emerge from blue shadows as he turns to look at Suigetsu out of the corner of his eye.
Gladio finds himself taking in a deep breath and holding it, then releasing it as if steadying himself. ]
Honestly? [ He had kept it relatively simple, leaving few constraints. ] I just wanted something larger than life. I wanted to look like I could sprout wings and hunt my enemies down.
[ He sucks in a breath when he feels himself instinctively clench his fists, the feathers stretching over his arms shifting in a slow and silent rustle - too slow for any living thing. ]
Heh, turns out I nearly bit off more than I could chew. Couldn't get it done in just one session. I almost didn't make it.
The worst was here - [ Lifting his arm, he gestures beneath it where the skin is thinner, tender. After a pause, he lowers his arm and tucks it behind him to draw a line over the small of his back, underscoring the tail feathers. ] - here...
[ Lowering his arms, he glances down at the last place - looking down at the silent scream of the bird of prey on his pectoral. That one was a killer. Too many nerve endings, not enough alcohol to numb it. He should have listened to the tattoo artist, who cautioned against alcohol for the way it brought a flush to the skin and excited the nerve endings. It was probably twice as sensitive as he would have been otherwise. Still, he grit his teeth and bore the pain until he indulged in it.
Weird, he never talks about it, and here he is 'fessing up to it like Suigetsu's his goddamn doctor. ] If there's a story behind it, only the artist knows.