Lucanis shifts so he can press his face into one of Davrin's broad shoulders, arms wrapped tightly around him. Another brief tensing at the first touch before Lucanis relaxes into it, practically sags against Davrin as he feels along old lines with careful hands. They don't hurt anymore, haven't for years. The scar tissue is old enough that it's only slightly less touch sensitive than the skin around it. In another ten, twenty years, they'll be barely more than shadows. Assuming he lives that long, never a guarantee in his line of work even without the complications of gods.

Inhale. Exhale. Measured.

"It's family. Family is always complicated. You understand, right?"

After all, Davrin had left his because of complications.