[ it was the way she'd gotten him in the first place, and it's...
... comforting, in a way. there's plenty of difference, and she appreciates those since they make him him, but the parts that are the same ease the loneliness she's been feeling as of late. maybe that's why she's been drawn to him beyond a simple desire to know. ]
Not really. I've tried it a couple of times, but it...
[ ... a shrug. ]
It doesn't feel like it comes out right? I don't know how to explain it. Hearing people sing is nice, but I'm not used to my own voice in that way, I guess. You won't be seeing me in a karaoke room anytime soon.
[ it still sounds metallic in a way she can't forget, that she won't be able to with her secret coworkers around. though unintentional, they won't let her. ]
[Would anyone be used to their own voice after multiple lives? Are you the same after everything? Does death change you?]
[He would assume the last answer to the last question is a yes. But probably he'd experience it different from her. Would he even be happy if he was brought back after death?]
[He lets out a little slow breath between his teeth.]
...I suppose its alright. [He recalls a young lady humming "Silent Night" under her breath. She hums it because she's happy.] I don't have much time nowadays to stop and listen to it.
[ the ship of theseus is still a ship. it was designed and made to look a certain way, and it remained that way in appearance; elijah had long brown hair and a perpetual smile, a determined and hardworking attitude that caused her death. malkuth retained the latter, the former forgotten and then remembered as the world came down around her for the second time in her two lives. malkuth has long brown hair and a perpetual smile, a determined and hardworking attitude.
malkuth is accepting the drink that is placed behind her and vergilius, sipping at it with a happy, surprised hum. this is. a drink that is going to be going fast. she can already tell. ]
Well, now you do! It's easier than ever with these implants of ours, Mr. Gaze, but it can be a little much at times. I kind of like the vibe they have here.
[ the rare human performers, because machines can do a lot, they can replace a lot, but they can't quite capture the soul and sound that humans manage with their music and voices. it isn't their fault; humans are the ones who keep them just out of reach of that possibility, for good reason. ]
I haven't really listened to a lot myself though, but some popular things in the karaoke place I work... are poppy, bouncy songs, old "classics" as they call them, ballads, and things you can belt. And the occasional group of people who come in to sing songs from shows they like.
[He mutters. He already has implants, already has a vivid red gaze he's literally named after. And here they went, placing things inside his head, against his will. It makes him feel violated, like he's some specimen on a table readily available to use at anyone's whim.]
[In the City, even here, maybe that's all he is. A body. A walking corpse.]
[Always used.]
Ballads and poppy songs...hrm. [He draws his attention back to her for the moment, his eyes glowing in the lower light.] I suppose sad songs...aren't your vibe, so to speak.
No more than something energetic might be yours, I'd guess.
[ she kicks her feet to the mellow beat, leaning against the bar. ]
They're not popular to sing, so I don't get to hear them often... but I think they're pretty human. Some of the belters are pretty sad, you know, and they always seem to come out a little lighter when their hour or three is up! Misery's better with company, right?
[ or so it goes, and music does the same thing. malkuth sips at her drink, then rolls her head back at vergilius,
caught, for a moment, by the light's effect on his eyes, her cheeks shading red thanks to the alcohol settling warmly in her body. a remarkably beautiful crimson, just as she'd written. ]
What can I say. These days, happy songs aren't in my repertoire.
[The only happy songs were those by the children, or by his crew after a successful job and a fun drunken celebration, and those voices have died out. He feels the more he thinks on them, the less he feels he remembers. Details are starting to become all the vaguer. It scares him. That's all he has left of them, those memories.]
[He hasn't drunk his drink, yet, even as it sits, solitary, on the counter next to him.]
With company...I don't know. I'm the type who'd rather be alone.
[She stares back at him - he holds her gaze, unbreaking, as if daring her to look away.]
[Her cheeks are vibrant. She feels alive in ways he feels he could never be again.]
[ honestly. she doesn't know if she could look away even if she felt like it. they're not as close as... but still, something nags at the edge of her memory, pushed along by drink and remains just out of reach. her hand feels heavy against the cool glass. ]
... No, but I think it sounds rather lonely.
[ there's a difference in being alone, and being lonely. that's why someone could be surrounded by so many people who cared about them, who wanted the same thing, and that person would still feel like the only one in the world. grief has a way of isolating others.
they all had been, in their own ways. ]
I don't really like people seeing me miserable either, to be honest. I end up putting those feelings into something productive, since I don't see the point in dwelling on something I can't change. [ that's that, and this is this.
... something about roland, about age, and... her face furrows, trying to figure out what the clouded memory is. ] All we can do, is do what we're capable of. Am I making sense? I kinda feel like I'm just... saying stuff now.
[ maybe she is, a little. avoided quiet question of if she prefers being alone too, or if she likes to surround herself with like others. productive either way. ]
[Of course it's lonely. He's spent too much time with himself not to be unaware of that. He craves the simplicity of what was. Even in this City, he can't have people around him to have, to hold, to keep. It would all be lost in the end. Every time he let the Sinners off the bus, there was that brief seize in his chest. If it all failed, if Dante was hurt...]
[Everyone becomes simply another puddle to add to the sea he'll drown himself in, by journey's end.]
[That is that, this is this. A phrase he didn't think suited Roland at all. Even so, it feels too flippant for something like this. Everyone suffered. They all had their own wells of pain. Malkuth too, for all her cheerfulness, must have sunk into it again and again. She already made it clear. A person who states she wanted to die is not someone who hasn't wandered through their own version of hell. Multiple for her, most likely.]
...No, you're making sense.
[Vergilius says, quietly. He imagines a hand reaching out, a warmth he keeps craving. What a pathetic beast he is.]
[A shake of the head. He should drink his drink. He feels like it'll burn through him and lay him open, though. His voice cracks a little.]
Do you think you're...happier around others? Or on your lonesome...?
... Around others. It's something she-- I always wanted, and why I think my first life went the way it did in the end.
[ people who saw what elijah did, who wanted to see what she did, who...
... ended up so far away, not a hand reaching out to anyone else. could anyone? after enoch had died, after carmen had begun to drown in her own guilt, could anyone have reached out? elijah's own had remained curled around her clipboard, her pen, and not a thought to it. had anyone thought to reach for her? she didn't see it if so, malkuth knows that.
her words continue, quiet in their pain. ]
I spent a lot of time alone before everyone else began to wake to their third life, actually. I had an Assistant who helped me fight and sort books, but I still felt lonely until the next Librarian woke up. Even if it wasn't... easy to connect, to reintroduce ourselves and find ways to pass the time when we weren't needed, it was still a relief to know he was there.
[ she remembers the grasping conversations, hands unable to stay idle, how until the library began to fill with life it was only a small comfort that yesod, netzach, and lastly hod had sat just above her. ]
I like to be around others. [ more decisive this time. ] But I'm fine if "others" is just a single person, like you.
[How did she? No...perhaps he doesn't need to know. It feels like he's wandering too personally into her pond, here. He doesn't know exactly the depths of it. What feels deep may be deeper, still.]
[Her third life, also a quandary. Woken up, like from a long dream. It must have been tiring, he thinks. He's only lived one life and it feels enough for a hundred to have lived. He's glad for that, honestly - this is his burden to bear.]
[Which is why her last statement makes him ruefully smile.]
Like me? I'm hardly good company. [Even she must realize that. He's put up so many thorns that he hardly expects anyone to dig deeper. The thorns have sunk their way into his scalp for eons, it feels.] You need someone more lively, Miss Weiss.
[ and she means it. there's no doubt in her words, just a kind of open honesty that continues to bleed out. ]
It might sound silly, but you're the one of the only people from the City I don't feel lonely around. I've been missing my coworkers a lot... but not when I'm with you.
[He doesn't know what to feel about that. It feels right. It feels wrong.]
[He reaches for his drink, without breaking his gaze, and takes a long sip. It does nothing to quell the feelings here, restless like burning butterflies.]
[ and she laughs at that, eyes closing habitually and cutting their gaze for a moment, until they open again with a shake of her head. ]
You wish. Reds... are really similar, but you could never, ever replace her, and I'd never, ever want you to. I'm reminded of her, but that doesn't mean you're a replacement -- it means that I'm used to the kind of person you are, even vaguely.
[ her hand feels heavy as she sets the half-gone drink down, a clumsy clink she barely registers. ]
It'd be unkind to you, to her, to treat you as one. [ it was cruel for angela to be sought as one, and yet rejected. ] I'm not lonely around you because we're the same.
[He drinks again. He wishes the alcohol could wipe it all away. The alcohol burns, even amongst the cool ice. His heart burns. He wishes for too much, and drowns himself for it, and he's done it for years because he's learned his lesson.]
Ha. [He manages to say, his voice almost a whisper.] How can that be? You're a duck. I'm a goose.
[ with their wonderful oil that coats their feathers, that lets them escape the pond they're sat in rather than drown in it. malkuth finally turns her gaze back to the band amidst a new song, a sigh passing her lips. ]
Other birds couldn't choose to go with their flow even if they wanted to, you know. But... at the same time, I don't think we're special because of that. It's just why we help each other out.
[Her eyes turn away. A small part of him wishes she didn't, but all the better to drown in this glass, he supposes. It's ridiculous. They can't be the same.]
[They can't, they can't, they can't.]
That's true. We're not special. The City grinds us down no matter what kind of bird we are.
[The Wings stand above all, after all. What's the use for a proper bird, or two?]
Anything, really. We're responsible for the birds that can't fly, because their wings have been clipped, because they're waterlogged, because they don't think they can leave the pond they sit stagnate on...
[ she trails off, then takes her glass up again for a lack of anything to do and sips at it again. long, thoughtless sips. maybe her words are a bit slower in that way drink ebbs at you, the way it had beneath blossoming trees, but she awake as she focuses across the room. two bands are better than one. ]
Don't you think you're opening a path for those sinners of yours? You're their guide, after all. Maybe they can't see the way to go... the pond they're sitting in might be dammed, or has a small opening they can't find... but you know the flow. You know the way, even if they're the ones who have to choose to go down it themselves.
[ that's flow, you choose to go or you don't; inevitable as it is, either you follow the river or the river swells until it drowns you. that's what she's thinking, picturing. easier that than herself on the dance floor she wants to join, tucked against someone she does or doesn't know.
[In a way, he's always known about that. But there's one flow he follows. And there's a flow that weighs heavy on his shoulders. A flow he still, somehow, wants to follow along, even if it leads to a bloody, horrific conclusion. A realization of a dream.]
[But here, he sits. She's right. It's all his contract, of course, and it binds him in ways he hates. He wants to do more. He could do more. He's not allowed to...do more.]
[He takes a last swig of his drink, finishing it off, and his own eyes follow the dancing couples. Vergilius is silent for a long moment, knowing he's never deserving to join them. That City, rotten as ever, would never be changed. He only can focus on his Sinners for now. He has to think about Charon, Garnet.]
[It all feels so, so, helpless. Maybe he has a taste of what she's been through, he thinks.]
...One would think the world would pity us for it.
They might. But I don't really care if they do or not. I let others' opinions control me for longer than I really should've.
[ some people take pride in it; others don't. she's the former. but it's come from untold suffering, from reinforced will, and she looks down into the rest of her drink before she tips it back to finish it off. ]
... I think I found a new favorite drink thanks to you, Mr. Gaze! And a new place to go.
[Free from tethers. Maybe in this place, the glimpse of a future like that is possible.]
[He lets out a low sigh, sliding his glass back onto the counter. He's not drunk like he was before, but its hazy, now. It makes everything feel a little out of reach.]
If you like it, that's fine, I suppose... [And a nod back to the dance floor.] Maybe you'll find someone to bring here who will do that with you, too.
[ ... mm. a thoughtful tilt of her head, but it's more like a body lean she catches herself on the stool next to her with so she doesn't fall off. ]
Though even if you don't have two left feet, I think I would right now -- not that I've danced before, but Kaito said he'd be my partner to learn one when the next class opened up... There's a lot more people on that dance floor than before, and I'm pretty sure I'd bump into someone.
[ there is not, for the record, that many more people on the dance floor than when they came in. ]
[Well, there she goes...a little lean right there. The mention of Kaito makes him frown, though - wait, that guy? The name is familiar...he's remembering chocolate Jenga trolling...fuck that guy...]
[He sniffs, rolling his shoulders back.]
I'm not some expert dancer, you understand. They don't teach that in Fixer school.
[ there's not, huh... that's kind of familiar. the road had been wobbly too, hadn't it. ]
Fighting and dancing are the same. That's why... I can't say.
[ wow. she's better at keeping this secret drunk than she is sober. anyway let her... gently slide off this stool... carefully. the vague understanding that it hit like a truck, and that she shouldn't have accepted another drink tonight, is very much there. but she doesn't want to dance with someone she doesn't know, and-- ]
If we're both not experienced, then I don't feel so bad.
[ in her effort to take a hand she's more got a palm on his knee, but it's fine, she's looking up at him with her reddened face and hopeful eyes. the dance doesn't seem so bad. it's nothing fancy footwork wise, just more for couples who want an excuse to keep their hands on each other, but it is yet another experience she'd like and can't imagine who else she'd bring to a bar.
[He blinks a couple times. trying to sort his own thoughts out here. Fighting and dancing. There's something about it, perhaps. The shared experience, interweaving with one another. One leads hopefully leads to harmony and happiness, the other could potentially end in death.]
[The weight of her hand settles on her knee, and his gaze turns on her like a lighthouse.]
[What bright, shining eyes.]
[What a gaze.]
[He should say no. The fingers feel like they're burning through the fabric. He shouldn't have offered that drink. He should have forgotten all of this. He always betrays himself.]
[He bids his mouth not be a traitor, and it doesn't listen.]
Just one, [ she promises, and her hand finds his a little easier when her gaze escapes his.
just one, as she stumbles back harmlessly in her bid to pull him from his seat, to the dance floor reserved for people who aren't them, who've never killed someone or died trying. his hand is calloused in ways hers aren't, scarred, and malkuth wishes vaguely she had the time to map them out like she might the structure of a building, from foundation to the decor.
just as vaguely, she pauses and looks at his face; she remembers touching that too, now, the same lack of hesitation and buzzing mind. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
... comforting, in a way. there's plenty of difference, and she appreciates those since they make him him, but the parts that are the same ease the loneliness she's been feeling as of late. maybe that's why she's been drawn to him beyond a simple desire to know. ]
Not really. I've tried it a couple of times, but it...
[ ... a shrug. ]
It doesn't feel like it comes out right? I don't know how to explain it. Hearing people sing is nice, but I'm not used to my own voice in that way, I guess. You won't be seeing me in a karaoke room anytime soon.
[ it still sounds metallic in a way she can't forget, that she won't be able to with her secret coworkers around. though unintentional, they won't let her. ]
Do you like music?
no subject
[Would anyone be used to their own voice after multiple lives? Are you the same after everything? Does death change you?]
[He would assume the last answer to the last question is a yes. But probably he'd experience it different from her. Would he even be happy if he was brought back after death?]
[He lets out a little slow breath between his teeth.]
...I suppose its alright. [He recalls a young lady humming "Silent Night" under her breath. She hums it because she's happy.] I don't have much time nowadays to stop and listen to it.
no subject
malkuth is accepting the drink that is placed behind her and vergilius, sipping at it with a happy, surprised hum. this is. a drink that is going to be going fast. she can already tell. ]
Well, now you do! It's easier than ever with these implants of ours, Mr. Gaze, but it can be a little much at times. I kind of like the vibe they have here.
[ the rare human performers, because machines can do a lot, they can replace a lot, but they can't quite capture the soul and sound that humans manage with their music and voices. it isn't their fault; humans are the ones who keep them just out of reach of that possibility, for good reason. ]
I haven't really listened to a lot myself though, but some popular things in the karaoke place I work... are poppy, bouncy songs, old "classics" as they call them, ballads, and things you can belt. And the occasional group of people who come in to sing songs from shows they like.
no subject
[He mutters. He already has implants, already has a vivid red gaze he's literally named after. And here they went, placing things inside his head, against his will. It makes him feel violated, like he's some specimen on a table readily available to use at anyone's whim.]
[In the City, even here, maybe that's all he is. A body. A walking corpse.]
[Always used.]
Ballads and poppy songs...hrm. [He draws his attention back to her for the moment, his eyes glowing in the lower light.] I suppose sad songs...aren't your vibe, so to speak.
no subject
[ she kicks her feet to the mellow beat, leaning against the bar. ]
They're not popular to sing, so I don't get to hear them often... but I think they're pretty human. Some of the belters are pretty sad, you know, and they always seem to come out a little lighter when their hour or three is up! Misery's better with company, right?
[ or so it goes, and music does the same thing. malkuth sips at her drink, then rolls her head back at vergilius,
caught, for a moment, by the light's effect on his eyes, her cheeks shading red thanks to the alcohol settling warmly in her body. a remarkably beautiful crimson, just as she'd written. ]
... They're sort of comforting, in a way.
no subject
[The only happy songs were those by the children, or by his crew after a successful job and a fun drunken celebration, and those voices have died out. He feels the more he thinks on them, the less he feels he remembers. Details are starting to become all the vaguer. It scares him. That's all he has left of them, those memories.]
[He hasn't drunk his drink, yet, even as it sits, solitary, on the counter next to him.]
With company...I don't know. I'm the type who'd rather be alone.
[She stares back at him - he holds her gaze, unbreaking, as if daring her to look away.]
[Her cheeks are vibrant. She feels alive in ways he feels he could never be again.]
Is that wrong of me...?
no subject
... No, but I think it sounds rather lonely.
[ there's a difference in being alone, and being lonely. that's why someone could be surrounded by so many people who cared about them, who wanted the same thing, and that person would still feel like the only one in the world. grief has a way of isolating others.
they all had been, in their own ways. ]
I don't really like people seeing me miserable either, to be honest. I end up putting those feelings into something productive, since I don't see the point in dwelling on something I can't change. [ that's that, and this is this.
... something about roland, about age, and... her face furrows, trying to figure out what the clouded memory is. ] All we can do, is do what we're capable of. Am I making sense? I kinda feel like I'm just... saying stuff now.
[ maybe she is, a little. avoided quiet question of if she prefers being alone too, or if she likes to surround herself with like others. productive either way. ]
no subject
[Everyone becomes simply another puddle to add to the sea he'll drown himself in, by journey's end.]
[That is that, this is this. A phrase he didn't think suited Roland at all. Even so, it feels too flippant for something like this. Everyone suffered. They all had their own wells of pain. Malkuth too, for all her cheerfulness, must have sunk into it again and again. She already made it clear. A person who states she wanted to die is not someone who hasn't wandered through their own version of hell. Multiple for her, most likely.]
...No, you're making sense.
[Vergilius says, quietly. He imagines a hand reaching out, a warmth he keeps craving. What a pathetic beast he is.]
[A shake of the head. He should drink his drink. He feels like it'll burn through him and lay him open, though. His voice cracks a little.]
Do you think you're...happier around others? Or on your lonesome...?
no subject
[ people who saw what elijah did, who wanted to see what she did, who...
... ended up so far away, not a hand reaching out to anyone else. could anyone? after enoch had died, after carmen had begun to drown in her own guilt, could anyone have reached out? elijah's own had remained curled around her clipboard, her pen, and not a thought to it. had anyone thought to reach for her? she didn't see it if so, malkuth knows that.
her words continue, quiet in their pain. ]
I spent a lot of time alone before everyone else began to wake to their third life, actually. I had an Assistant who helped me fight and sort books, but I still felt lonely until the next Librarian woke up. Even if it wasn't... easy to connect, to reintroduce ourselves and find ways to pass the time when we weren't needed, it was still a relief to know he was there.
[ she remembers the grasping conversations, hands unable to stay idle, how until the library began to fill with life it was only a small comfort that yesod, netzach, and lastly hod had sat just above her. ]
I like to be around others. [ more decisive this time. ] But I'm fine if "others" is just a single person, like you.
no subject
[How did she? No...perhaps he doesn't need to know. It feels like he's wandering too personally into her pond, here. He doesn't know exactly the depths of it. What feels deep may be deeper, still.]
[Her third life, also a quandary. Woken up, like from a long dream. It must have been tiring, he thinks. He's only lived one life and it feels enough for a hundred to have lived. He's glad for that, honestly - this is his burden to bear.]
[Which is why her last statement makes him ruefully smile.]
Like me? I'm hardly good company. [Even she must realize that. He's put up so many thorns that he hardly expects anyone to dig deeper. The thorns have sunk their way into his scalp for eons, it feels.] You need someone more lively, Miss Weiss.
no subject
[ and she means it. there's no doubt in her words, just a kind of open honesty that continues to bleed out. ]
It might sound silly, but you're the one of the only people from the City I don't feel lonely around. I've been missing my coworkers a lot... but not when I'm with you.
no subject
[He doesn't know what to feel about that. It feels right. It feels wrong.]
[He reaches for his drink, without breaking his gaze, and takes a long sip. It does nothing to quell the feelings here, restless like burning butterflies.]
A replacement Kali, perhaps.
no subject
You wish. Reds... are really similar, but you could never, ever replace her, and I'd never, ever want you to. I'm reminded of her, but that doesn't mean you're a replacement -- it means that I'm used to the kind of person you are, even vaguely.
[ her hand feels heavy as she sets the half-gone drink down, a clumsy clink she barely registers. ]
It'd be unkind to you, to her, to treat you as one. [ it was cruel for angela to be sought as one, and yet rejected. ] I'm not lonely around you because we're the same.
no subject
[He drinks again. He wishes the alcohol could wipe it all away. The alcohol burns, even amongst the cool ice. His heart burns. He wishes for too much, and drowns himself for it, and he's done it for years because he's learned his lesson.]
Ha. [He manages to say, his voice almost a whisper.] How can that be? You're a duck. I'm a goose.
no subject
[ with their wonderful oil that coats their feathers, that lets them escape the pond they're sat in rather than drown in it. malkuth finally turns her gaze back to the band amidst a new song, a sigh passing her lips. ]
Other birds couldn't choose to go with their flow even if they wanted to, you know. But... at the same time, I don't think we're special because of that. It's just why we help each other out.
[ to her, that's why. ]
no subject
[They can't, they can't, they can't.]
That's true. We're not special. The City grinds us down no matter what kind of bird we are.
[The Wings stand above all, after all. What's the use for a proper bird, or two?]
Help each other...do what, then?
[Commiserate? What good does that do?]
no subject
[ she trails off, then takes her glass up again for a lack of anything to do and sips at it again. long, thoughtless sips. maybe her words are a bit slower in that way drink ebbs at you, the way it had beneath blossoming trees, but she awake as she focuses across the room. two bands are better than one. ]
Don't you think you're opening a path for those sinners of yours? You're their guide, after all. Maybe they can't see the way to go... the pond they're sitting in might be dammed, or has a small opening they can't find... but you know the flow. You know the way, even if they're the ones who have to choose to go down it themselves.
[ that's flow, you choose to go or you don't; inevitable as it is, either you follow the river or the river swells until it drowns you. that's what she's thinking, picturing. easier that than herself on the dance floor she wants to join, tucked against someone she does or doesn't know.
they're the same, they are. ]
no subject
[In a way, he's always known about that. But there's one flow he follows. And there's a flow that weighs heavy on his shoulders. A flow he still, somehow, wants to follow along, even if it leads to a bloody, horrific conclusion. A realization of a dream.]
[But here, he sits. She's right. It's all his contract, of course, and it binds him in ways he hates. He wants to do more. He could do more. He's not allowed to...do more.]
[He takes a last swig of his drink, finishing it off, and his own eyes follow the dancing couples. Vergilius is silent for a long moment, knowing he's never deserving to join them. That City, rotten as ever, would never be changed. He only can focus on his Sinners for now. He has to think about Charon, Garnet.]
[It all feels so, so, helpless. Maybe he has a taste of what she's been through, he thinks.]
...One would think the world would pity us for it.
no subject
[ some people take pride in it; others don't. she's the former. but it's come from untold suffering, from reinforced will, and she looks down into the rest of her drink before she tips it back to finish it off. ]
... I think I found a new favorite drink thanks to you, Mr. Gaze! And a new place to go.
no subject
[Free from tethers. Maybe in this place, the glimpse of a future like that is possible.]
[He lets out a low sigh, sliding his glass back onto the counter. He's not drunk like he was before, but its hazy, now. It makes everything feel a little out of reach.]
If you like it, that's fine, I suppose... [And a nod back to the dance floor.] Maybe you'll find someone to bring here who will do that with you, too.
no subject
[ ... mm. a thoughtful tilt of her head, but it's more like a body lean she catches herself on the stool next to her with so she doesn't fall off. ]
Though even if you don't have two left feet, I think I would right now -- not that I've danced before, but Kaito said he'd be my partner to learn one when the next class opened up... There's a lot more people on that dance floor than before, and I'm pretty sure I'd bump into someone.
[ there is not, for the record, that many more people on the dance floor than when they came in. ]
no subject
[Well, there she goes...a little lean right there. The mention of Kaito makes him frown, though - wait, that guy? The name is familiar...he's remembering chocolate Jenga trolling...fuck that guy...]
[He sniffs, rolling his shoulders back.]
I'm not some expert dancer, you understand. They don't teach that in Fixer school.
no subject
Fighting and dancing are the same. That's why... I can't say.
[ wow. she's better at keeping this secret drunk than she is sober. anyway let her... gently slide off this stool... carefully. the vague understanding that it hit like a truck, and that she shouldn't have accepted another drink tonight, is very much there. but she doesn't want to dance with someone she doesn't know, and-- ]
If we're both not experienced, then I don't feel so bad.
[ in her effort to take a hand she's more got a palm on his knee, but it's fine, she's looking up at him with her reddened face and hopeful eyes. the dance doesn't seem so bad. it's nothing fancy footwork wise, just more for couples who want an excuse to keep their hands on each other, but it is yet another experience she'd like and can't imagine who else she'd bring to a bar.
besides, they're already here. what's the harm? ]
Just one?
[ he should say no. ]
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[He blinks a couple times. trying to sort his own thoughts out here. Fighting and dancing. There's something about it, perhaps. The shared experience, interweaving with one another. One leads hopefully leads to harmony and happiness, the other could potentially end in death.]
[The weight of her hand settles on her knee, and his gaze turns on her like a lighthouse.]
[What bright, shining eyes.]
[What a gaze.]
[He should say no. The fingers feel like they're burning through the fabric. He shouldn't have offered that drink. He should have forgotten all of this. He always betrays himself.]
[He bids his mouth not be a traitor, and it doesn't listen.]
...Just one.
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just one, as she stumbles back harmlessly in her bid to pull him from his seat, to the dance floor reserved for people who aren't them, who've never killed someone or died trying. his hand is calloused in ways hers aren't, scarred, and malkuth wishes vaguely she had the time to map them out like she might the structure of a building, from foundation to the decor.
just as vaguely, she pauses and looks at his face; she remembers touching that too, now, the same lack of hesitation and buzzing mind. ]
... You're like the train rings.
[ fucking nonsense ]
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