[ physically, jayce looks the best he's ever appeared. he's not fresh out of a ravine, half starving or visibly ill. he's not dead, either, or descemding that particular starecase. he's as alive as could be, bronze skin heated and warm at sight alone. his mental state may paint a different picture, gold eyes profoundly melancholy at their core, troubled and hiding the tension building on his back. at the sound of footsteps it's always one ear back, listening— all of jayce turns at attention, an instinct to keep alert at whatever's approaching, his tail flipping up high. when it's yang he sees, part of his expression visibly softens. now that's a face he hasn't seen moving around in a while. he went to visit her husk, of course, tried to study it with few uplifting results— but if she's awake, moving and alive, it says something.
jayce could perhaps afford to look happier— he tries, and hopefully it doesn't come short of his deserved affections. ]
Look who's finally awake.
[ out of the way— he wants a hug, for the good of the people (him). ]
no subject
jayce could perhaps afford to look happier— he tries, and hopefully it doesn't come short of his deserved affections. ]
Look who's finally awake.
[ out of the way— he wants a hug, for the good of the people (him). ]