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There was an end because I ended it. [ is how we're describing that event. ] I do not mean to say I did not have happy moments with him, the one in my ribs — some of the happiest in my life, only some of the hardest as well.
But that is the way of it, yes? To love and be loved, one must open one's heart, and what could be easier to wound than that?
But that is the way of it, yes? To love and be loved, one must open one's heart, and what could be easier to wound than that?
Edited (wording!!) 2020-02-23 06:30 (UTC)
[ Prettily put. It makes his smile a little wistful—which is to say, he allows it to make his smile a little wistful—even if put in plainer words it wouldn’t sound nearly so appealing. ]
I am sure some bruising is inevitable.
[ Again: that’s what they're talking about here, right? ]
What do you suppose love should look like? [ A genuine question, not a prelude to an answer of his own. ] Not the feeling. The act. On its own, when it is disentangled from lust and fear. What do you think it should inspire someone to do?
I am sure some bruising is inevitable.
[ Again: that’s what they're talking about here, right? ]
What do you suppose love should look like? [ A genuine question, not a prelude to an answer of his own. ] Not the feeling. The act. On its own, when it is disentangled from lust and fear. What do you think it should inspire someone to do?
Something like games, catching people as they fall backwards or directing them around blind-folded. I've heard they can be very beneficial to increasing the efficiency of an organization.
[ or destroying it, maybe ]
[ or destroying it, maybe ]
Perhaps we do it in a contained space to prevent dunkings. I should think that's the only safety measure we'd need.
[ Ilias's brows knit, focus bleeding into memory — stars glimpsed through skylights; sunlight through a veil of pine and the season's last flowers; words sparking to life beneath both. Love. ]
To challenge one another, [ he decides, finally. ] To know and accept and protect the other, yes, but more than that, to help each other grow.
[ You know that if you had to, you would break it. (To give it a stronger shape.)
A bare touch sharper, ] In the ways one chooses, I mean to say; not in the ways anyone else might want.
To challenge one another, [ he decides, finally. ] To know and accept and protect the other, yes, but more than that, to help each other grow.
[ You know that if you had to, you would break it. (To give it a stronger shape.)
A bare touch sharper, ] In the ways one chooses, I mean to say; not in the ways anyone else might want.
My thoughts exactly.
[ mostly ]
I propose we try to arrange for it in that hall where you trapped everyone into dancing and using silverware.
[ mostly ]
I propose we try to arrange for it in that hall where you trapped everyone into dancing and using silverware.
The goals of this are much the same.
[ when you trap a bunch of people together and note who can work well together and who can't. ]
I'll find an appropriate moment in the coming weeks.
[ when you trap a bunch of people together and note who can work well together and who can't. ]
I'll find an appropriate moment in the coming weeks.
It's astonishing how things grow here. The fungus, the moss, and everything else on one's face. I don't know that I anticipated ink —
Perhaps not, but I will take suggestions for the Speaker's. I think him unlikely to wake.
[ A quiet, surprised laugh. Is this a mage courtship ritual?? Regardless: it's great. ]
That bored, Monsieur?
[ Rhetorical. ]
You could write a random word. Bumpy, or... revenue. Let people ask him about it when he wakes up and never admit to it or explain it. Take it to your pyre and leave him with the mystery.
Or you could draw something obscene.
That bored, Monsieur?
[ Rhetorical. ]
You could write a random word. Bumpy, or... revenue. Let people ask him about it when he wakes up and never admit to it or explain it. Take it to your pyre and leave him with the mystery.
Or you could draw something obscene.
[ Athessa's voice is soft, as is the accompanying sound of pen and parchment in the background, the audible flicker of flame on a low wick, an owl outside. It's late. ]
Does absence make the heart grow fonder? Or forgetful?
[ There. The silliest way she can imagine to pose that question, so that anyone who might have overheard will think she's penning a letter to a lover or writing in a diary. ]
Does absence make the heart grow fonder? Or forgetful?
[ There. The silliest way she can imagine to pose that question, so that anyone who might have overheard will think she's penning a letter to a lover or writing in a diary. ]
Edited 2020-07-24 01:29 (UTC)
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