He just lay there on his side for a few long moments, eyes closed, breathing slow and steady as a bellows, otherwise unmoving as he listened to the conversation outside the circle.
That was, of course, until Edwin moved closer, which was when he blinked slowly. His eyes weren't Charles' usual warm brown, but like glowing embers, clearly focused on Edwin all the same even despite the lack of iris or pupil to give some indication of just where he was looking.
Perhaps the most interesting thing was that gold thread growing thicker once he registered that Edwin was actually there, or maybe due to Edwin's proximity, it was hard to say which, or if it was some combination of the two. It had grown as thick as a proper halter rope by the time the Hellhound that was Charles trundled to his feet, head still low, trying to duck under the weight of the muzzle somehow even as he leaned closer to the edge of the circle, closer to Edwin, though he came up short against it just as he'd done with the one he painted himself into earlier.
Though this time instead of just laughing about the bruised knuckles, it was enough to have the nails inside the muzzle pressing into his cheek and snout, which in turn had him reeling back to sit upright, blinking at Edwin again, clearly confused by this turn of events, head dropping low and shoulders hunching up in a way that was decidedly Charles, who stood in the same way when Edwin snapped at him and meant it.
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2024-10-08 09:01 pm (UTC)That was, of course, until Edwin moved closer, which was when he blinked slowly. His eyes weren't Charles' usual warm brown, but like glowing embers, clearly focused on Edwin all the same even despite the lack of iris or pupil to give some indication of just where he was looking.
Perhaps the most interesting thing was that gold thread growing thicker once he registered that Edwin was actually there, or maybe due to Edwin's proximity, it was hard to say which, or if it was some combination of the two. It had grown as thick as a proper halter rope by the time the Hellhound that was Charles trundled to his feet, head still low, trying to duck under the weight of the muzzle somehow even as he leaned closer to the edge of the circle, closer to Edwin, though he came up short against it just as he'd done with the one he painted himself into earlier.
Though this time instead of just laughing about the bruised knuckles, it was enough to have the nails inside the muzzle pressing into his cheek and snout, which in turn had him reeling back to sit upright, blinking at Edwin again, clearly confused by this turn of events, head dropping low and shoulders hunching up in a way that was decidedly Charles, who stood in the same way when Edwin snapped at him and meant it.