Tachi
The mouse can't help but gravitate to him; he once saved her life.
He treats her as a person, not an expectation.
The good son can't help but gravitate to him; he accepts without question.
His red hair caught in the wind like a child's.
The princess can't help but gravitate to him; she has no other.
He loves her and that is enough.
But he is bound to a stone pillar, hanging helpless and he can't seem to break free.
The murderer can't help but gravitate to him; his light is the path to redemption.
He is the other voice on a rainy night.
The cowboy can't help but gravitate to him; he brought back to life a dead man who would rather have stayed dead.
He succeeded where the cowboy failed.
The heretic can't help but gravitate to him; he is the sun.
He came at the call, and that is all that matters.
But he is broken, and full of pride, and the pain is so great that he can't seem to let it go.
The blind man can't help but gravitate to him; he is not the wounded child, but his grief is the same.
He burns and it lets the blind man believe in justice.
The scarred man can't help but gravitate to him; he will kill the world and restore balance.
He burns and it lets the scarred man dream of seeing his family again.
But he wears his chains to invite domination, and does not struggle when it comes. He does not live fiercely enough to keep going.
The ice queen can't help but gravitate to him; he's so fucking noisy.
A small body fits against his at night, too easily for complaints.
The scholar with steel eyes can't help but gravitate to him; they've been friends since forever and he will defend what belongs to him.
For the sake of a child, for the protection of a friend, for the love of a rogue.
The rough soldier can't help but gravitate to him; because they were drunk and ohgod the things he can do with his tongue...
He will stand at this man's back and draw steel in Heaven for him, because confessions of sentiment are for women.
The dragon king can't help but gravitate to him; there is too much sin in the walls to hold this righteous fury that burns beneath skin and speaks with a quiet man's voice.
When the Marshal and his pet weapon rock the foundations of Heaven, he is shaken loose and falls, wings fluttering, down to Earth to follow.
The child will not gravitate, but bind them all, and in the end he is no longer the one wearing chains.
And maybe they will get used to wearing theirs, in five hundred years or so.
