[When Dokja transforms, without any preamble at all, into some sort of demon form, Liem stares just a little, his eyes widening at the sudden appearance of black wings and horns erupting from the other man. Just what kind of background, exactly, does Dokja have…? It occurs to Liem that he really knows almost nothing about this man, save for the fact that he had been staunchly opposed to the Regent during their time in Horos.
He regards the outstretched hand with trepidation, lips pressed into a thin line — not because of Dokja’s sudden demonic transformation so much as because, no matter how tiny they both are, he cannot regard the idea of being flown up into that huge tree without at least a little bit of stomach-dropping nervousness.]
I’m going to hold you to that.
[Literally, probably. Liem is definitely going to be maintaining a death grip on the other man the whole time, whether he’s consciously trying to or not. But he can’t argue that flying up wouldn’t be significantly faster than just climbing the entire way, so ultimately he does acquiesce, and step closer so Dokja can… lift him up, he assumes. Probably he couldn’t cling to his back without messing up his wings, even if he would vastly prefer that.]
no subject
He regards the outstretched hand with trepidation, lips pressed into a thin line — not because of Dokja’s sudden demonic transformation so much as because, no matter how tiny they both are, he cannot regard the idea of being flown up into that huge tree without at least a little bit of stomach-dropping nervousness.]
I’m going to hold you to that.
[Literally, probably. Liem is definitely going to be maintaining a death grip on the other man the whole time, whether he’s consciously trying to or not. But he can’t argue that flying up wouldn’t be significantly faster than just climbing the entire way, so ultimately he does acquiesce, and step closer so Dokja can… lift him up, he assumes. Probably he couldn’t cling to his back without messing up his wings, even if he would vastly prefer that.]