sunburn and fever dreams

Cara, despite his waning, yet persistent resolve, deflated under the assuring words of his Keeper. He certainly was desperate, but then just about every moment in his life from the day he came to Varahel until now was desperate for the man wielding comfort like a physical implement. If there was a reasonable way to fault the man for being, Cara liked to think he might know it. As it was, he owed much of who he'd become towards Xochipili. 

Their fingers tangled. Chip, I-- He exhaled shortly, bringing their fingers to his lips. His eyes drifted shut. 

He wondered if there was some part of Chip, something similar to what dwelled deep in his own chest, that understood things could never truly be the same. That this was as much a moment of acceptance as it was of reunion. 

You always were too good, for us. In all of it, Chip had never seemed to waiver. His commitment to the clan, stalwart. Perhaps it was the problem as much as it was a solution. [i[The[/i] solution.

When Cara opened his eyes, he let them bore into his Keeper's. I accept.