( This is by far the worst idea that could have emerged from their meeting. Sharing the same space as her will not bode well to his preexisting headache, and it doesn’t take him all too long to realize how much worse the situation is when a single bed rests in the middle of the room. The water trickles from the bath pool not so far away, each drop feels like a mockery.
His working eye shifts towards her. )
I propose we take turns using the bed throughout the night. Is two-hour intervals agreeable?
[ Surely she is just as displeased with this outcome as he is, but the influx of refugees from tideswept corners of Amphoreus has left less and less room in Okhema.
Indeed, if the housing situation were not so dire, she would never have allowed this horrible man into her own private quarters.
At his suggestion, she shoots him a withering look, her brow furrowing ever so slightly. ]
Two hours? No. Sleep in the bath if it bothers you so much to sleep beside me, but I shan't be surrendering my bed.
It’s unwise to sit in the water for extended periods, let alone sleep. Should I safely assume your implication there is that I drown? I’m afraid it’s not my time yet.
( He moves towards the bed without further emphasis, sitting comfortably on the edge to ease the weight from his body.
He glances at the bath, then Aglaea. Not even the most precise of experiments or genial theory could result in a woman like her.
However, she should think outside the box more often. A way of survival outside of the prophecy exists, it has to, even if fate itself must suffer as a result. )
[ The soft little sigh she exhales indicates that yes, that rather is what she'd been suggesting, but in truth she wouldn't allow him to come to any actual harm. Regardless of their past history, they need him alive.
Her quip has the desired effect, anyway. Stepping to her wardrobe, she finds a soft linen tunic and steps behind a privacy screen to change for bed. Once she's changed, a spare sleeping shirt is handed to him. They might hate each other but she's a proper host, after all, and his clothes look like they'd be very uncomfortable to sleep in. ]
I'm afraid there are a great many things that bother me, so you'll have to be more specific.
( He inhales slow but hotly as he watches her shamelessly meander around the screen to change clothes. The lack of response on his part could burn away the screen itself if alchemy transgressed the set laws of the universe. His eye narrows. At least she’s put off by him enough not to wrap him in her golden threads and feel the gravity of all that he feels.
He’s still looking at her by the time she appears again, so maybe she can tell how well her words grind him.
He takes the shirt and drapes it up by the shoulders. There’s no way he’s wearing this so he puts it aside to look back at her. )
Would it bother you if I don’t wear this garment while I sleep next to you?
[ She scoffs audibly at Anaxa this time as he sets aside the garment she'd selected for him, but her expression remains mild. ]
It wouldn't bother me. I only intended to provide you with a modicum of comfort, but I won't force you to wear it.
[ And to show just how unbothered she is, Aglaea turns down the covers and sits down on the opposite side of the bed, her back facing his. It's unnerving to have him so close, but it's better to keep him here than let him run amok. ]
( He places the fabric beside him, leaning down to start unclasping his boots at least. There’s a symphony consisting of bedsheets being peeled off on the other side, smooth as her skin, the dripping water, and then his heavy coat thudding on the ground.
All of it probably gets tied up in those godly threads, feeling as he also breathes in heavily before laying back on one of the pillows.
No. He doesn’t get inside the covers or sheets. They need them as a barrier.
He can smell her on the pillow and he doesn’t even have to face it. Instead, he’s begrudgingly staring up at the ceiling like breathing corpse. )
... Almost. [ Aglaea is surprised when his assessment stings, but it pleases her that she can still feel pain at all. She lets it coil around her, constricting her throat for a moment, tightening around her ribs. Her fingers clench the soft sheets--the only external sign of discomfort she'll allow. ] But we both know that's not true.
[ Closing her eyes, she wonders what he's thinking, what scenes from the past are replaying in his mind. Is he reminiscing on their youthful romance or their bitter parting? Even now the desire to reach out is stirring inside her, but she has to wonder if that desire is her own or if it's Mnestia stirring at Cerces' presence after so long a parting.
She asks him nothing and expresses none of that. Even if Oronyx's power can turn back the hands of time, some things that break can never be repaired again. ]
( His pupil shifts towards the sound of her voice. Provoking her is everything they have left from that raging flame that once was. He abhors the fact there's still warmth emanating from those ashes, a hopeless phase with no return that burns more than the fire itself.
His eye closes, brow creased while he delves into rationalizing. Not here or there so he can spare her from an argument. Even though to him, she's wrong. )
I use almost very loosely.
( She is more than her Coreflame, he wants to comment but it puts a wrench in his headache. )
The truth is the observable reality that awaits us after we reach the greatest form of enlightenment. Some may refer to this as death, but I see it as an opportunity. As a scholar and Sage, you have to take what you can get one way or another. Mind you, dying is a choice in this matter. Time is the true enemy.
( Time is agonizingly painful and powerful and he spent enough time with her to realize how precious it is. Perhaps for her it might be too late, but he won't stop until her body is sinking in gold. Cerces would be proud of him doing what they could never do for Mnestia. )
[ For better or worse usually means for worse, in her experience; time tore them apart, and it drains away her humanity bit by bit like the grains of sand trickling down through an hourglass.
She opens her eyes again and turns to look at him now, remembering how fondly she once gazed upon that familiar face. They had broken things off for ideological reasons as much as anything, and those can never be reconciled, but she still remembers how it felt to be with him before it all fell apart. Ironic that the last real love of her life would become the host for Cerces' coreflame. ]
Do you regret that your choices have led you here? Or is this the path you planned to walk from the beginning?
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
@wefts
His working eye shifts towards her. )
I propose we take turns using the bed throughout the night. Is two-hour intervals agreeable?
no subject
Indeed, if the housing situation were not so dire, she would never have allowed this horrible man into her own private quarters.
At his suggestion, she shoots him a withering look, her brow furrowing ever so slightly. ]
Two hours? No. Sleep in the bath if it bothers you so much to sleep beside me, but I shan't be surrendering my bed.
no subject
( He moves towards the bed without further emphasis, sitting comfortably on the edge to ease the weight from his body.
He glances at the bath, then Aglaea. Not even the most precise of experiments or genial theory could result in a woman like her.
However, she should think outside the box more often. A way of survival outside of the prophecy exists, it has to, even if fate itself must suffer as a result. )
Does it bother you?
no subject
Her quip has the desired effect, anyway. Stepping to her wardrobe, she finds a soft linen tunic and steps behind a privacy screen to change for bed. Once she's changed, a spare sleeping shirt is handed to him. They might hate each other but she's a proper host, after all, and his clothes look like they'd be very uncomfortable to sleep in. ]
I'm afraid there are a great many things that bother me, so you'll have to be more specific.
no subject
He’s still looking at her by the time she appears again, so maybe she can tell how well her words grind him.
He takes the shirt and drapes it up by the shoulders. There’s no way he’s wearing this so he puts it aside to look back at her. )
Would it bother you if I don’t wear this garment while I sleep next to you?
You don’t need to force the nice act.
no subject
It wouldn't bother me. I only intended to provide you with a modicum of comfort, but I won't force you to wear it.
[ And to show just how unbothered she is, Aglaea turns down the covers and sits down on the opposite side of the bed, her back facing his. It's unnerving to have him so close, but it's better to keep him here than let him run amok. ]
Sleep however you like.
no subject
( He places the fabric beside him, leaning down to start unclasping his boots at least. There’s a symphony consisting of bedsheets being peeled off on the other side, smooth as her skin, the dripping water, and then his heavy coat thudding on the ground.
All of it probably gets tied up in those godly threads, feeling as he also breathes in heavily before laying back on one of the pillows.
No. He doesn’t get inside the covers or sheets. They need them as a barrier.
He can smell her on the pillow and he doesn’t even have to face it. Instead, he’s begrudgingly staring up at the ceiling like breathing corpse. )
It’s almost as if you haven’t changed.
no subject
[ Closing her eyes, she wonders what he's thinking, what scenes from the past are replaying in his mind. Is he reminiscing on their youthful romance or their bitter parting? Even now the desire to reach out is stirring inside her, but she has to wonder if that desire is her own or if it's Mnestia stirring at Cerces' presence after so long a parting.
She asks him nothing and expresses none of that. Even if Oronyx's power can turn back the hands of time, some things that break can never be repaired again. ]
no subject
His eye closes, brow creased while he delves into rationalizing. Not here or there so he can spare her from an argument. Even though to him, she's wrong. )
I use almost very loosely.
( She is more than her Coreflame, he wants to comment but it puts a wrench in his headache. )
The truth is the observable reality that awaits us after we reach the greatest form of enlightenment. Some may refer to this as death, but I see it as an opportunity. As a scholar and Sage, you have to take what you can get one way or another. Mind you, dying is a choice in this matter. Time is the true enemy.
( Time is agonizingly painful and powerful and he spent enough time with her to realize how precious it is. Perhaps for her it might be too late, but he won't stop until her body is sinking in gold. Cerces would be proud of him doing what they could never do for Mnestia. )
You're still Aglaea for better or worse.
no subject
She opens her eyes again and turns to look at him now, remembering how fondly she once gazed upon that familiar face. They had broken things off for ideological reasons as much as anything, and those can never be reconciled, but she still remembers how it felt to be with him before it all fell apart. Ironic that the last real love of her life would become the host for Cerces' coreflame. ]
Do you regret that your choices have led you here? Or is this the path you planned to walk from the beginning?