Date: 2010-12-02 08:17 am (UTC)
Oh, *sigh*. I have a feeling you can guess how much I enjoyed this.

A lot. It's terribly difficult to pull out lines I love, or even give any coherency on why I love certain bits, and this has to be the ... what, fifth, sixth time I've reread this? It's this tender, quiet thing between them that doesn't - that isn't about their obsessions and frailties, although those exist. They press upon it, but it remains. That doesn't make any sense, I'm afraid.

Coward doesn't eat now unless it's from Blackwood's hand. Won't eat, unless it's from Blackwood's hand. And while that makes me grin and makes me daaaw and makes me gleeful, it also tugs and makes me a little teary.

Now Blackwood keeps sugared almonds on the bedside table and places them, one by one, on Coward's tongue I am struggling to figure out why that is almost without doubt my favorite line of the entire thing. I think it has something to do with the forethought of it. And the dedication to keeping Coward fed. And the sweetness (ahahaha) of the image. And ... I should probably be in bed because this is running in circles, but yes. This fic. It's lovely. Utterly lovely.
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