Steven gingerly holds onto the runestone, the coolness of the rock comforting against his burns, if nothing else. Everything still feels like it's been caught up in a whirlwind, and for the moment, he doesn't have the energy to do much but just let his dad do what has to be done at this point. There's not enough space in his head for any suspicion or doubt.
Of course, that changes a little after he's been left to rest on the bed while Greg runs out to quickly grab supplies. The power of the rose's enchantment gently ebbs away, gradually replaced with natural exhaustion - still present but not as commanding or extreme. It's enough that he can start feeling afraid again while he's left alone, nervously eyeing the dark corners of the motel room, but at least that state doesn't last long.
His clothes are basically destroyed at this point, torn up by the thorns that failed to reach his flesh. As Greg returns, Steven has pushed himself up a little, his wings flexing gingerly and his expression obviously dazed, as his body foggily feels out its limitations. The glance he casts back to his dad arriving is initially startled and defensive, like a feral animal that's forgotten how to take comfort in another's presence. For that first moment, anyone coming in reads as a threat.
But then, it slowly fades, and Steven's expression relaxes into something harder to read. Disbelief, maybe? Uncomfortable uncertainty?
He opens his fist, revealing the stone in his palm, which Steven stares at wonderingly like he can't quite remember when it was given to him. He sinks down like he's trying to make himself smaller, and then cautiously offers his hands out to his dad, looking down at the bed as he does. Greg is right, that some new emotions are rising as the adrenaline fades, but it's nothing as straight forward as anger or fear.
It's more like he's trying to read whether or not there is going to be any surprise backlash from Greg, like he doesn't know how he stands with his parent anymore. Is he supposed to be submissive? He adopts that sort of posture reflexively, unable to separate truth from paranoia.
no subject
Of course, that changes a little after he's been left to rest on the bed while Greg runs out to quickly grab supplies. The power of the rose's enchantment gently ebbs away, gradually replaced with natural exhaustion - still present but not as commanding or extreme. It's enough that he can start feeling afraid again while he's left alone, nervously eyeing the dark corners of the motel room, but at least that state doesn't last long.
His clothes are basically destroyed at this point, torn up by the thorns that failed to reach his flesh. As Greg returns, Steven has pushed himself up a little, his wings flexing gingerly and his expression obviously dazed, as his body foggily feels out its limitations. The glance he casts back to his dad arriving is initially startled and defensive, like a feral animal that's forgotten how to take comfort in another's presence. For that first moment, anyone coming in reads as a threat.
But then, it slowly fades, and Steven's expression relaxes into something harder to read. Disbelief, maybe? Uncomfortable uncertainty?
He opens his fist, revealing the stone in his palm, which Steven stares at wonderingly like he can't quite remember when it was given to him. He sinks down like he's trying to make himself smaller, and then cautiously offers his hands out to his dad, looking down at the bed as he does. Greg is right, that some new emotions are rising as the adrenaline fades, but it's nothing as straight forward as anger or fear.
It's more like he's trying to read whether or not there is going to be any surprise backlash from Greg, like he doesn't know how he stands with his parent anymore. Is he supposed to be submissive? He adopts that sort of posture reflexively, unable to separate truth from paranoia.