The moment they stopped, the silence went, "oh this is gonna be awkward," and committed. Cherion sat there in the gloom, skin pebbled with gooseflesh that had nothing to do with the freezing draft snaking through the cave. He felt way too exposed, and not just because his shirt was currently… missing in action. He felt small. He felt like a loose thread someone had decided was too bothersome to weave into the pattern.
How do you just STOP?? We were in the middle of a life changing experience, hello??
Seriously. One minute, the world is a dizzying blur of heat and hunger, and the next, it's like a bucket of slush has been dumped directly onto his soul. Cherion's chest heaved, his lungs burning with the cold air, but the fire in his pride was far hotter. He stared at Zarius's back, big, broad, and incredibly unhelpful, and felt irritation hit instantly.
He wasn't about to just sit there acting like some rejected, freezing mess. Not happening.
