It sent us in circles for quite a while, don't you think?
[It might have been the harpoon that made Sonya aggressively defend himself in the end, but it really was in noticing his tidiness that the focus shifted. That's an act of misfortune if she's ever heard of one.]
I guess it goes to show that nothing lasts forever. What a shame, just when I hoped to get to know you better.
That may be true, but have a care, won't you? Things are about to be a great deal more boring for me now that one of the more interesting people on the island will be gone.
[He won't have to worry about that, seeing as he'll be dead.]
Give me something interesting to mull over in your absence?
Possibly? I'm not sure they would care, or at least one of them wouldn't.
[ He leans in a bit in turn, the corner of his lips quirked upwards. ]
I wouldn't call them secrets, more like words meant for select ears only. They all have to do with the City, but if that still interests you—I don't mind sharing.
Now that you mention it, they've never been particularly strict with us. Only violence - at least this is a language we all can speak.
[Does it suck when it comes from someone whose side she isn't on? Certainly. Is she interested in dismantling their iron grip in retaliation? That too. But force is indeed a force with which she is familiar.
At mention of the City, she visibly perks, her hands unlinking like opening them will help her receive the information faster. It's certainly not the first time she's heard about it.]
That miserable place filled with curses? I'm more than intrigued.
Is that what the Red Gaze told you? It's not entirely wrong, but I would argue the true curse is the system and people who rule it. That's why it has to be dismantled, so it can be rebuilt from a steady, healthy foundation rather than the rotting one it currently sits on.
But ah, that I think that way isn't really a secret. [ He reaches for one of her hands if she'll allow it. ]
Vergilius is the Overseer for a group of workers, called Sinners. Their mission is to obtain all the Golden Boughs, pieces of an object that can make the impossible possible, can distort time and reality itself. One of those Sinner is a woman I'm quite fond of, Rodya. She used to be part of the Yurodiviye, the group I lead—but she left rather than face the sin she committed. I met her and the rest of the Sinners just before being brought here, and I was hoping that she had the mark.
There is something coming, and no one and nothing can stop it. But there are a select group who will lead, who are chosen. We can identify each other, even if only by instinct when we're not yet accustomed to it. She wasn't one of them, despite her innermost desire to be special above all else.
I gave them the Bough rather than fight them for it, even if I was sent there to retrieve it. Doubtlessly, this irritates the Red Gaze to no end, as he's in my debt technically speaking. But it was an act of charity for the impoverished and—giving a starving man a lone piece of bread hardly does much other than ensure he lives just one more day.
[She smiles a little knowingly at the immediate mention of Vergilius. Of course he'd been the first to tell her about it, and the use of technology that surpasses even magic by the corporations.] He also seems to think I'd be eradicated on sight, for some reason.
[Of course Waltaquin allows him to hold her hand, wearing neither her gloves nor her gauntlets this late at night.
She perhaps mistakes his final anecdote for a sign that they're on the same page with regards to charity, but beyond that -]
Wasn't it also your parting gift to her? Knowing that she won't be able to walk the same path as you. You may not be able to accept what she became, but that's what you could give to her.
The City tries to eradicate anyone who refuses to be a cog in its wheels. So that's technically correct, but I would take it as a compliment.
[ Another compliment he'll easily give to her. A squeeze of her hand too. ]
Perhaps. I'd still like to see her grow, given the optimist that I am. But next time I see her, I'll likely just pluck it from her, much like I plucked the fish from the waters here. I'm a generous individual, but I still have my own desires too.
I don't think he's in the business of giving out those.
[Vergilius is so very fun to tease, though, and the joy that chasing after him in a way that clearly irritates him shines through in her voice. Even buoyed by Sonya's compliment, she can't help but pit them against one another a bit, capitalizing on her teasing.]
One day, I'll find a way of learning more. I think such knowledge would be indispensable.
Being generous is just another way of being selfish, after all. You're indulging your own pleasure to assist others. Wouldn't she have a problem with your flirtations? [He has been trying to flatter her since they were last alone together.]
[ Oh, he laughs at that, actually laughs and not just the light chuckle that floats through his speech like an solitary snowflake every now and again. ]
I think comfort is underselling it, a bit. But this isn't the time for debating definitions or semantics—I don't miss chances.
[ Missed opportunities are for men with fear, men with hesitation, men with doubt; Sonya of the Yurodiviye is none of these things, even now. He pulls her closer with a tug of their hands and then leans to press his lips against hers. Like his laughter, the kiss isn't light nor is it shy, but bold and assured, an extension of himself. ]
[It turns out that's a very nice sound, the full heart of his laugh when it escapes him. That he has shown her even for a second his capacity for excitement makes him so vibrant. It's a better secret that the one he told her directly.
Even if they aren't the same in all ways, it is nice to have found someone like him. He understands what she is and doesn't flee from it or their similarities... fun to chase and yet not completely resistant to it. A little fox, really.
She smirks into the kiss, her smile a curve against the shape of his mouth. Where their hands are joined, she makes sure to lace their fingers together. When they part, her voice drops to a whisper, words low and spoken slowly because they are so close.]
[Her chin tilts up, breath against his. It's an exchange of bluffs, one glancing off of the other. And seeing as they are both the type to strike decisively, the play is clearly purposeful on her part, a hook picking at an eye.]
Don't forget there's a difference between an invitation and an open door. Which do you think we've given each other?
[He's right, of course. Nothing worth doing doesn't come with at least a little fun.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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[ Like really, he's just a neat person. ]
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[It might have been the harpoon that made Sonya aggressively defend himself in the end, but it really was in noticing his tidiness that the focus shifted. That's an act of misfortune if she's ever heard of one.]
I guess it goes to show that nothing lasts forever. What a shame, just when I hoped to get to know you better.
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[ He tilts his head, resettling into a smile. ]
Did you? At least I can tell you that it's mutual. And that there's still time, however limited that might be.
nts don't mention the unions.............
[He won't have to worry about that, seeing as he'll be dead.]
Give me something interesting to mull over in your absence?
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[ He'll get to the interesting thing, and actually he has a thought here himself but first- ]
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Do they let you keep many gifts in a prison cell?
You have a lot of secrets, don't you? I'll take one.
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[ He leans in a bit in turn, the corner of his lips quirked upwards. ]
I wouldn't call them secrets, more like words meant for select ears only. They all have to do with the City, but if that still interests you—I don't mind sharing.
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[Does it suck when it comes from someone whose side she isn't on? Certainly. Is she interested in dismantling their iron grip in retaliation? That too. But force is indeed a force with which she is familiar.
At mention of the City, she visibly perks, her hands unlinking like opening them will help her receive the information faster. It's certainly not the first time she's heard about it.]
That miserable place filled with curses? I'm more than intrigued.
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But ah, that I think that way isn't really a secret. [ He reaches for one of her hands if she'll allow it. ]
Vergilius is the Overseer for a group of workers, called Sinners. Their mission is to obtain all the Golden Boughs, pieces of an object that can make the impossible possible, can distort time and reality itself. One of those Sinner is a woman I'm quite fond of, Rodya. She used to be part of the Yurodiviye, the group I lead—but she left rather than face the sin she committed. I met her and the rest of the Sinners just before being brought here, and I was hoping that she had the mark.
There is something coming, and no one and nothing can stop it. But there are a select group who will lead, who are chosen. We can identify each other, even if only by instinct when we're not yet accustomed to it. She wasn't one of them, despite her innermost desire to be special above all else.
I gave them the Bough rather than fight them for it, even if I was sent there to retrieve it. Doubtlessly, this irritates the Red Gaze to no end, as he's in my debt technically speaking. But it was an act of charity for the impoverished and—giving a starving man a lone piece of bread hardly does much other than ensure he lives just one more day.
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[Of course Waltaquin allows him to hold her hand, wearing neither her gloves nor her gauntlets this late at night.
She perhaps mistakes his final anecdote for a sign that they're on the same page with regards to charity, but beyond that -]
Wasn't it also your parting gift to her? Knowing that she won't be able to walk the same path as you. You may not be able to accept what she became, but that's what you could give to her.
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[ Another compliment he'll easily give to her. A squeeze of her hand too. ]
Perhaps. I'd still like to see her grow, given the optimist that I am. But next time I see her, I'll likely just pluck it from her, much like I plucked the fish from the waters here. I'm a generous individual, but I still have my own desires too.
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[Vergilius is so very fun to tease, though, and the joy that chasing after him in a way that clearly irritates him shines through in her voice. Even buoyed by Sonya's compliment, she can't help but pit them against one another a bit, capitalizing on her teasing.]
One day, I'll find a way of learning more. I think such knowledge would be indispensable.
Being generous is just another way of being selfish, after all. You're indulging your own pleasure to assist others. Wouldn't she have a problem with your flirtations? [He has been trying to flatter her since they were last alone together.]
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[ He very purposefully looks down at their hands with a smile that belies that he's more than aware of what he's been doing. ]
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[And besides...he's going to be dead soon, so does it really count? Dead men tell no tales, most of the time, unless they're risen from the grave.]
If my company brings you comfort in the final hours of your life, then I'm even more priestly than Temenos.
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I think comfort is underselling it, a bit. But this isn't the time for debating definitions or semantics—I don't miss chances.
[ Missed opportunities are for men with fear, men with hesitation, men with doubt; Sonya of the Yurodiviye is none of these things, even now. He pulls her closer with a tug of their hands and then leans to press his lips against hers. Like his laughter, the kiss isn't light nor is it shy, but bold and assured, an extension of himself. ]
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Even if they aren't the same in all ways, it is nice to have found someone like him. He understands what she is and doesn't flee from it or their similarities... fun to chase and yet not completely resistant to it. A little fox, really.
She smirks into the kiss, her smile a curve against the shape of his mouth. Where their hands are joined, she makes sure to lace their fingers together. When they part, her voice drops to a whisper, words low and spoken slowly because they are so close.]
You are an opportunist of the wickedest caliber.
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[ His smile is wry, his lips brushing up against hers without meeting her in a proper kiss. ]
You'll have to forgive me for the overt familiarity, but you're the one who let me in.
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[Her chin tilts up, breath against his. It's an exchange of bluffs, one glancing off of the other. And seeing as they are both the type to strike decisively, the play is clearly purposeful on her part, a hook picking at an eye.]
Don't forget there's a difference between an invitation and an open door. Which do you think we've given each other?
[He's right, of course. Nothing worth doing doesn't come with at least a little fun.]