I Love Reading Tags On My Art Thats Like OWIEIEEE.. YOWWW .. OWW.. YOU'RE HURTING ME YOU'RE KILLING ME....

i love reading tags on my art thats like OWIEIEEE.. YOWWW .. OWW.. YOU'RE HURTING ME YOU'RE KILLING ME....

Height

No thoughts, just height difference

The General Mahamatra carries a presence with him. He’s adept at hiding it–capable of sneaking up on almost everyone–but generally, his presence is loud and overwhelming. He enters a room and he instantly demands attention.

Alhaitham had the privilege of witnessing it more than once already. There’s just something to the way Cyno carries himself in official meetings and it scarcely has to do with his headset. It might be the most distinctive sign of the General Mahamatra, but even dressed down and bandaged up Cyno manages to command the attention of everyone present with merely a look and the way he carries himself. Sometimes it feels as if the General Mahamatra is larger than life itself.

Alhaitham also has heard what people say about the General Mahamatra; how his reputation is huge and his legacy will carry on, long after he’s gone.

Alhaitham doesn’t disagree with any of that, though to him the General Mahamatra is even more. To him, the General Mahamatra is Cyno.

And Cyno is small.

His presence might be great, the power he commands terrifying and overpowering, but physically, he’s just a sliver of a man. Alhaitham knows of course, just what kind of power lies behind the deceptively slim body–has felt it first hand during their clash at Aaru Village–but that doesn’t change the fact that Cyno is almost an entire head shorter than him.

He’s not even of a good height for forehead kisses, something that Alhaitham laments every morning, when he awkwardly has to bend down until his lips connect with the crown of Cyno’s head. Not that a little discomfort is going to stop him because nothing can stop him from showering Cyno with his love. Not even the glower he gets in return.

“Stop that,” Cyno says, very notably not rising on his feet to make it easier on Alhaitham, but Alhaitham knows it for the token protest it is.

The blush dusting Cyno’s cheeks gives him away.

“Tomorrow, maybe,” Alhaitham says, and they both know very well that he won’t stop it, not tomorrow or any day after.

Cyno huffs, but doesn’t protest anymore, and Alhaitham just catches the hint of a smile on his face when he turns away from him.

~*~*~

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