You were? [Curious. She'd thought they might have had a run in with one of Lucien's tricksy gods.] You'll tell me about it, won't you?
[And she's grateful for the new gesture, too. He's very comforting. You might not imagine it, with his size and taking after a creature of the deep. But they fit quite snugly together, and she's happy for the weight of him, the strength. Too often she feels frail standing on her own. Her fingers flex, find new grip on his palm. Her thumb rubs over the minute scales there, easing down the grain.]
...I think I prefer this too. [She bumps her head up softly, mindful of the briars. Puts her other arm around his back.] Not the way it's happened, but meeting you. Everyone, really, but you've been...very, very kind to me. And you're so much fun, and you're always honest, and you care so deeply for everyone.
It's an honour just to know you, Sidon. [She chuckles, soft and breathless.] My good Prince.
[ oh. she's just so direct in her praise. is this what it's like, talking to him? he has to laugh right back. ]
Likewise, my Princess...! I've rarely met anyone so fearsome in their kindness.
[ then the contented rumbling settles, because—yes. he ought to tell her. ]
In our journey, it was... [ there's a moment's pause, tongue running against the back of his teeth. he is honest, and open, but vulnerability is a different beast. he can usually connect to others without it—it's something he'd rather contain in written word, carefully plucked over. but she wouldn't appreciate something so curated, would she? so he thinks, and recalls. ] I should start from the beginning. Lucien's journal—it is a terrible thing. Never so much as open its cover. It is inhabited by mages, whose influence worked on our minds immediately—we discovered the civilization they'd driven to terror and ruin, and our minds began to slip and turn against one another.
We came upon some of their technology, which created matter from... nothing. Like a god, yet not without a cost. It created a creature from our dreams—the faces of those we loved, or lost. My sister, my friends—you, Shouxue, Viktor. Countless others, amongst all of us.
I could not bring myself to fight it, but— [ he shakes his head ] it gave up fighting. Perhaps this 'dream' of ours simply didn't want to live. Its death, I think, only drove us further into madness.
[Each successive story she hears of these places gets worse and worse. That it ties so closely with other she cares about (Lucien, who's suffered enough for several lifetimes) and comes to such acute ruination puts her heart in a vice grip. Rosamund swallows back a hard lump in her throat, head shaking as he comes to the end of the tale.]
The ways that they draw up all our old wounds is just insidious. I can't blame you for not wanting to fight them.
[Taking their forms, taking the shape of his family. What could you be expected to do?]
Still, it's a little sad. Even it couldn't find the will to keep living. [She presses her lips tight.] I'm sorry. That sounds awful, Sidon. You shouldn't have had to see or do any of it.
[Her head turns, just so she might press her nose against him, weld her cheek to his side. His chin stays firm atop her head. She breathes more evenly for it, letting her eyes close.
Dreadful that he had gone. Miraculous that he came back. That she can keep him so close, if not for always then for when it counts the most.]
I hope your head is more clear now. It hasn't lingered at all, has it?
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[And she's grateful for the new gesture, too. He's very comforting. You might not imagine it, with his size and taking after a creature of the deep. But they fit quite snugly together, and she's happy for the weight of him, the strength. Too often she feels frail standing on her own. Her fingers flex, find new grip on his palm. Her thumb rubs over the minute scales there, easing down the grain.]
...I think I prefer this too. [She bumps her head up softly, mindful of the briars. Puts her other arm around his back.] Not the way it's happened, but meeting you. Everyone, really, but you've been...very, very kind to me. And you're so much fun, and you're always honest, and you care so deeply for everyone.
It's an honour just to know you, Sidon. [She chuckles, soft and breathless.] My good Prince.
no subject
Likewise, my Princess...! I've rarely met anyone so fearsome in their kindness.
[ then the contented rumbling settles, because—yes. he ought to tell her. ]
In our journey, it was... [ there's a moment's pause, tongue running against the back of his teeth. he is honest, and open, but vulnerability is a different beast. he can usually connect to others without it—it's something he'd rather contain in written word, carefully plucked over. but she wouldn't appreciate something so curated, would she? so he thinks, and recalls. ] I should start from the beginning. Lucien's journal—it is a terrible thing. Never so much as open its cover. It is inhabited by mages, whose influence worked on our minds immediately—we discovered the civilization they'd driven to terror and ruin, and our minds began to slip and turn against one another.
We came upon some of their technology, which created matter from... nothing. Like a god, yet not without a cost. It created a creature from our dreams—the faces of those we loved, or lost. My sister, my friends—you, Shouxue, Viktor. Countless others, amongst all of us.
I could not bring myself to fight it, but— [ he shakes his head ] it gave up fighting. Perhaps this 'dream' of ours simply didn't want to live. Its death, I think, only drove us further into madness.
no subject
The ways that they draw up all our old wounds is just insidious. I can't blame you for not wanting to fight them.
[Taking their forms, taking the shape of his family. What could you be expected to do?]
Still, it's a little sad. Even it couldn't find the will to keep living. [She presses her lips tight.] I'm sorry. That sounds awful, Sidon. You shouldn't have had to see or do any of it.
[Her head turns, just so she might press her nose against him, weld her cheek to his side. His chin stays firm atop her head. She breathes more evenly for it, letting her eyes close.
Dreadful that he had gone. Miraculous that he came back. That she can keep him so close, if not for always then for when it counts the most.]
I hope your head is more clear now. It hasn't lingered at all, has it?