isleofavalon | May Catch-All Log [ota]

Entry tags:

May Catch-All Log [ota]

WHO: Somnus and You
️ WHAT: Catch-all, TDM prompts, etc.
WHEN: Month of May
WHERE: Around
WARNINGS: Individual warnings below

TDM Prompt: Casino Bidding CW: Alcohol, gambling

[ Do the rumors involving the existence of such rare hourglass coins have any merit? Perhaps not, perhaps so; whatever the case, it warrants investigation. Thus he ventures into the depths of the casino, where the atmosphere is heady and heavy with smoke and the clamor of clinking drinks and calls for bids. His usual attire, that of archaic robes, is met with head-turns of the younger fae and approving nods from the older misers of the club. It is with the latter that he interacts-- one old soul to others-- in a few rounds of card games involving a number of buffs and keeping one's visage as steel and unreadable as can be. He makes a sizable sum, because of it.

Somnus' alcoholic drink of choice is a deep, red wine, and he holds a goblet-full of it in his hand as assistants begin to set up the bidding stage. Dressed in gaudy, sparkling outfits, the fae parade the items one by one out to pedestals: the feather, the glacier, the flower, and so forth.

However, it is the first one that garners his attention the most, but rather than interest, he appears dismissive. Somnus frowns, speaking to whichever other-worlder has joined him. ]

A feather that may resurrect the dead... What nonsense.

TDM Prompt: KnotsCW: none

[ So.

You and he now have their wrists linked as one, and all thanks to one of the pesky fairies that are running this booth. Somnus tugs at his wrist, which may move your own upward with his to bring the linked limbs between you and him.

His voice, naturally deep and grim, carries fuel edges of disappointment and weariness to it. This isn't the first time the fae have played tricks, and it seems that even the markets are not safe. ] Their enchantments never cease.

Idle Training: Forward-Dated to May 9th CW: ig he's shirtless

[ The notably more pleasant weather of late spring allows for more outdoor, leisurely activities... for those who are idle. The one who is decidedly not is none other than Somnus Lucis Caelum. Outside of Camelot, one can find him on a field practicing the sport of javelin-throwing, and he seems to have a decent set-up. Nearby are a series of polearms wedged into the soft ground, and some meters away are markings on the ground to measure distance. An array of already-tossed spears, halberds, and javelins are already embedded near or past the furthest line. By now Somnus has worked up into a healthy, hearty exercise, although one might not know this by the serious, severe expression he wears, and his practice has gotten him heated to the point that he's already undone the upper half of his robes, allowing the fresh, cool spring air to soothe overworked brawn. As another sings silently through the air, it strikes right next to a previous one, but he is nowhere near done.

The muscles of his back and arms grow taught with tension, positioning himself as he corrects, then re-corrects his stance, and his eyes narrow to a dangerous, hunter's expertise as he marks yet another yonder goal. Without warning, he sprints and whips his arm forward, snapping the javelin into a ferocious torrent through the air. Sweat beads and breaks off the strands of his long bangs with the momentum, his chest heaves with a reactionary, much-needed inhale. A few seconds later, the toss ends its sail with a defeating crack as the weapon splits down a previously tossed polearm.

After sending another one flying across the field, he pauses to regain some of his disheveled composure, bringing his forearm up to wipe at the perspiration dotting his brow, then proceeding into a stretch of his arm crossed over the other. A soft exhale that may have been for relief doesn't appear to help whatever strain, mental or otherwise, has overcome him, and after a moment, he reaches for yet another javelin...

For those that know him, despite the immense focus require for the sport, he may appear more preoccupied than usual. While he may appear to be practicing alone, others are welcome to join in the sport or ask for instruction; alternatively, this prompt can be incorporated with the massage TDM prompt if one were to offer him a knot to relieve whatever tension wracks him. ]

Wildcard

[ Have an idea? PM this account, drinksteapots, or Jade294#6977! Somnus is also open to current Quests. ]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[Rinea's focus was on the embroidery thread at the booth, drawn in by its shimmering colors. Maybe she should use this one for her next handkerchief? Hmm, the thread is not dyed, but grown in this color, so it won't fade, even without enchantment? how interesting....

Catching her in the little fey-mischief trap was but the work of a moment. It isn't until Somnus raises both of their arms that she finally pulls her attention fully away.]

I'm sorry-? [Wait, he wasn't trying to draw her attention. They're. Tied together.] Oh!

[The faint body heat of their wrists pressed together under the twine is awkwardly intimate, somehow. Rinea gently curls her fingers to keep their tips from resting upon him. She doesn't want to add to his obvious exhaustion at the farce, after all!

The fey working the booth, meanwhile, cackles in the way that only a little troublemaker can. "Hey now, it's not that bad," it snickers, clearly knowing exactly how bad it is. "Getting out is easy! I'll even tell you how..."]

[ ...Of all of those to be trapped with. While he had been aware of her presence at the market, he hadn't noticed how she had happened to move closer as she browsed the nearby stall, thus making them prime victims to the fae.

Within the same instant of seeing just with whom he's tied, his head snaps in the fae's direction, his neutral look slipping, briefly, to something murderous. His cloak rustles as his free hand moves in such a way to be suggestive of drawing a weapon. ] You will release her--

[ "Wh-whoa, easy, I said I'd tell you how--" ] --now.

[ "--the trick is to tellabunchasecretstoeachotherokaybyeee!"

And then the fae vanishes. They're left entangled by the wrists, his against hers. His knuckles are rough, ghosting against the fairness of hers.

Whether it's the exchange with the fae, the enchantment, the person to whom he's bound or all three, Somnus appears tenser than usual despite the fairy fleeing. Stiffly, he angles his head down to look at her. Even more stiffly, he greets her, ending it with a cordial nod: ] Hail, Alchemist.

[Rinea is surprised but not particularly disturbed by their predicament. It's certainly not ideal to be attached to another person at the wrist, but it's not exactly dangerous either, and Somnus has seen Rinea in enough mortifying situations that this barely registers on the scale of embarrassments she has suffered in front of him.]

Good day, lord Somnus.

[Perhaps it's a testament to the amount of time she's spent with him, but Rinea's getting a little better at reading the minutiae of his expressions. His initial reaction was shockingly outsized-- did he really threaten the shopkeep?!--but now he just reminds her of Berkut, sullen and long-suffering but still attempting politeness. It's a bit sweet. (The fact that she might have something to do with his sour mood is entirely lost; after all, he has weathered much worse from her already. He surely wouldn't find a moment's touch intolerable... right?)

Her smile is mild and friendly.]

I didn't quite catch what our captor claimed was the key to release. Did you happen to hear them?

[ Somnus' movement appears to be mindful of her own, careful to not unwittingly move her wrist as he had done so before. Unfortunately, each shift or step-- even the single one he takes in order to regard her properly-- causes their arms to move as one. His fingers brush hers.

...If he notices the change in title she uses for him, he doesn't comment. ]

We must divulge secrets. [ His head lifts, gaze moving away almost reluctantly from her expression, to peer down a path that cuts through the market. ]

May I recommend, not here.

[ He would rather not, than k y o u. ]

Secrets? The fair folk are such... [gossipy...] ...curious beings, I suppose. I will do as you say.

[For a man who acts as statuesque as possible, he is still as warm as any other flesh-and-blood being. Each soft brush of their fingers is almost electric, the sensation driven up by the attempts to avoid it; her wrist nearly tingles where their skin connects.]

I admit I do not have many confessions of consequence that you do not already know. [Her death, her avoidance of a seat of power, her dream of performance, her fraught relationship with her (ex?)fiancé... that about covers it, really.] I pray simple things will suffice for the enchantment.

[Well, she does have one secret, floating at the top of her conscious as they step further out of the crowds. That being: she is, selfishly, a little excited to learn whatever Somnus may tell her.]

[ If their wrists hadn't been bound together, he would have offered his arm to escort her from the markets, similar to how he had guided her from the dream realm of Mab's cavern. As it stands, their walk with each other is curiously unsynchronized, as if being especially mindful of how his hand brushes against hers.

A path off from the markets crosses the street, and from there, a park begins. While there are those who lounge or cross its greens, it provides a relative amount of privacy. ]

Perhaps... [ He has a suspicion that he'll have to divulge more histories to her, while she will be spared of sharing anything too personal given what he knows of her already. Mayhap this is recompense for the imbalance of their relationship, that he knows much and she, so little. Yet, to know more of her-- even of "little things"... He would welcome it. ]

Will this do?

[ The path they're on is shaded by overhanging, flowering willows. ]

[Rinea is beginning to wonder... is she imagining the awkwardness, or is it actually there? Somnus did not react overmuch when comforting her in the depths of Mab's cavern, so surely touching her is not so terrible as to cause any avoidant behavior... but perhaps the looming threat of revealing secrets about himself is what makes her companion's movement more stilted.

The park distracts her from overthinking, though. Rinea takes a moment to admire the green canopy overhead.]

Yes, I think this will suffice. Avalon's weather is so nice if you can catch it on a rain-free day, don't you think? Rigel's climate was much colder.

[Turning to face him Rinea raises their bound wrist between them, though of course it will only rise if Somnus lets her manipulate them. Will the magic in the twine indicate whether or not a secret is weighty enough to unravel it?] What was spring like in your country, lord Somnus?

[ She is comfortable with conversation, able to ease him into opening the topic with a "secret" by such a simple question. Internally, he is grateful for it, for he would have little idea with what to begin.

But the question itself causes him to consider. Spring in his country... It has been too long. The Endless Night has consumed all of their Star. ]

Our people adored the end of winter, the lengthening of days. It was a time to celebrate new life and the flowers that bloomed.

[ This is true whether he speaks of Lucis in the modern age and that of the citizens in his time; but for the latter, spring's signal of more light had been even more celebratory. Winters were brutal, not only for scarce resources but because daemons had more time to ravage during the night.

A pause, and then he adds, as if recalling something from distant memory: ]

...There were festivals for spring.

Is that so? How lovely! [Rinea beams, wanting to encourage him. The thoughtful quality to his voice is almost melancholy.]

Rigel had the same. But the truth is...[She wilts a little, recalling the sobering memory.] ...our late Emperor was never fond of revelry. It put quite a damper on the castle. Even my lord Berkut was disappointed, though he couldn't very much show it.

[Her attention is quickly grabbed, however, by the twine connecting them, as one of its threads begins to unravel.]

Oh!

[So then, secrets have to be about that much?]

[ He, too, feels the thread that binds them to loosen, some. Somnus turns his wrist gently as if to test the extent of their snare, but doing so makes his palm rest above the backside of her hand, his fingers lying over her knuckles.

(Her skin is quite smooth.)

...This is something he quickly corrects, after which he turns his head forward. ]

It had been a tradition to weave laurels or crowns for one's head. I hope... you have found the time to celebrate the spring in this realm. [ Without some Emperor saying no parties. ]

No need to worry. I've enjoyed myself plenty. [Rinea's cheeks pink, just a little, at the sensation of Somnus's calloused hand atop her own. It was almost like being held. Rinea has held Somnus' hand before, but always with the expectation of formality, of being escorted. This brief envelopment had no higher purpose, merely a specter of intimacy.]

Laurel crowns... I'm sure they were pretty. Do you remember how to weave them? [Did he ever weave them himself?]

[ It seems that for every attempt to focus on the path before them, something calls his attention back to the woman beside him. This time it’s the promise of a smile in her voice, gentle as the first daybreak of spring thawing through winter frost.

His gaze lingers upon her visage— not quite meeting her eyes, but drifting to the hint of flush upon her cheeks, then dipping lower upon her face, for the same color is the tint of her lips… as well as the blush of flowers as they pass.

Pink is a lovely color on her.

He replies, thoughtful. ]

Allow me to weave you one.

Would you? [The mental image of Somnus solemnly crafting a decorative item is quite sweet. Sometimes the man is so stoic as to make him seem inhuman, but that impression is really starting to fade in the face of his increasing openness.] I would adore that! Thank you.

[Even if they're tied at the wrist, it's hard for Rinea not to feel pleased in this moment. The market was fun, the weather is nice, a pleasant breeze lightly blowing the willow tree's drooping branches and gently bending the flowers along the path... and she will always enjoy Somnus's company at her side, even mischievously forced as it is.

Ah, but she should ask him more questions to release the prank's hold. No doubt her companion is busy and has better things to do than be stuck here. Hmm, hmm....]

Did you celebrate other traditions back home, lord Somnus? [He hasn't seemed the festive type, but after his offer of a crown, she will believe anything.] Perhaps a birthday? Or... a coronation?

[Maybe not that one...]

[ Somnus recognizes the question for what it is, that Rinea is refocusing their conversation on the task of undoing the enchantment. Any other time, he would be grateful for it; this time, there is a treacherous beat within his chest that accompanies the thought of parting too quickly. ...But there is an excuse to stay: that he may be able to weave a laurel for her. Luckily, there are ample amount of flowers both in the boughs of the lower branches of trees.

This is just enough to offset the rather grim connotations birthdays and coronations carried for all of his descendants: that of being condemned to their fate. ]

A birth was a joyous triumph over death. [ In his time, children didn't always live until adulthood. ] The namedays of our descendants... I recall them. [ Being kept as a spirit within the Ring for two thousand years meant that he was able to memorize each and every one. ] They were always celebrated. [ He continues, raising his head towards a flowering branch of a willow. This one has a particularly peachy blush to its pink petals. ]

With chrysanthemums.

[ The tie loosens further. ]

[Somnus did not speak too many words, but there is much to learn from them. Rinea's voice is thoughtful as she turns the information over.]

Descendants...

[Now that she thinks on it, Somnus had been fairly natural with their lusine ward. All she knows of Somnus's family is that behavior... and his brother... and the throne room of his kingdom he lead her through, its oppressive atmosphere quiet and still.]

Then, you had a queen? Or perhaps, your brother married?

[ His wrist shifts against hers, testing the tautness of the thread that binds them. It remains intact yet, unsatisfied by what he has divulged thus far. It seems he must tell more.

Somnus's hand lifts to one of the wispier willow branches, breaking a part of it off. It will make a good base for a crown-- something that, in combination with her question, causes a memory to return to him: a courtyard with garden of blossoms, lilies, and vines. It had been afternoon, and she was draped in white silks.

No, this is not the first time he has made such a laurel for another. ]

I had a queen. [ After a moment, he replies, and the way in which he speaks of her reflects both a great deal of respect and distance. Perhaps because she has spent enough time with him, Rinea may be able to detect something else within the tone, small fissures running through granite, that of underlying regret and loss. ] Together, we had a son.

I had passed before long, however, leaving them both.

Pa-- [Rinea's head turns sharply to regard Somnus with surprise, eyes wide and mouth parted. Passed? Somnus is dead? Well-- he stands before her now, the proof of his life obvious in the heat of skin against her own. But then--]

I, I see. I am sorry to have asked such a cruel question.

[--Then, he is just like her.

Rinea falls silent, her gaze dropping away. Her head buzzes with the implications of his admission. When he was cursed, and raged at her-- that she caused him to forget his family-- this, then, was that family? If he recognizes the births of his descendants, plural, how long has he been deceased? Does he mourn for his family so greatly it anchored him to the mortal plane? And where does his brother fit into it? Would she even dare to ask?

...Still... for all of the questions Somnus's reply leaves her with, it does at least provide one answer.]

...I did think you seemed quite practiced. [With their little bear ward. She chances a smile again, small and fond.] I am beginning to understand the origin of your kindness.

[ To speak of himself and his history in such a mild way is not giving her the whole truth. If she knew, she would not say that he is kind. …Or perhaps by the grace of her heart, she still would. He unsure as to which option is worse: to continue to allow her to call him kind when she knows not all of the blood on his hands, or to reveal more yet still somehow garner her sympathy.

…Yet, surprisingly, she refrains from assuming too much of his past, and instead focuses on their recent encounter, recalling how he had cared for that fae-bear. In life, he had spent so very little time with his queen and child. Only upon his death, confined to the Ring, was he able to see them as time moved on. While under the curse of the fae, he had wanted to do better for both Rinea and that bear… as silly as it had been. ]

A family is a… precious gift. One that in life, I had been unable to properly attend.

[ As these thoughts come and go, Somnus, too, stops in their walk just as they emerge from the promenade of willows. On either side of their path are more green and flowering quads, and after briefly noting their species and color, he looks down at Rinea. ]

What of yourself?

[ He imagines her parents must be proud for having raised such a gracious and noble woman, to say nothing of being betrothed to what would have been the future emperor. ]

My family... I was an only child. My parents raised me well, though with much anxiety. Our house was not in good standing with the Empire's nobility, you see. Not until lord Berkut asked for my hand.

[Her smile is a little rueful now, aimed out at the flowers they stand before. Does Somnus intend to weave a crown for her now, with them? That would be difficult with their wrists entwined... so maybe he intends to stay even after they dispel it. The thought gladdens her.]

They were proud of me, but perhaps... not for the reasons I would have wished for.

[ After a moment of silent consideration, he gives her a small tug by way of their twined wrists, leading her off the path and into the green. Yes, she best believe that he’s going to make a laurel for her. Who is he to deny her such crafts, after she had shared her smile?

To represent a low-standing house, but still catch the attention of the heir to the throne… what parent wouldn’t be proud? Somnus, having been that king who had chosen his bride, doesn’t quite understand her meaning. Not until he gives it some thought, and chances a guess: ]

You… had wished to make a name for yourself, regardless of whom you wed.

Yes... something like that. [She tucks a stray strand of hair behind her ear with her free hand, watching her steps and keeping balance with their connected arms so as not to crush any flowers underfoot.] I had not aspired for the Rigelian throne. I would have been happier without it, I think. But such notions were near blasphemous.

[The Duma Faithful and the Empire's throne were almost inextricably linked, both factions working under the dragon god's banner. Admitting her distaste for them earned her a swift and bloody end in exchange for Duma's favor.

Still... Despite the subject matter, Rinea looks content.]

I am not sure what god I should thank for being here admiring the gardens with you instead.

[ Is there a god to be thanked for either of their presences here? She is dead, and so is he. Rather than be cynical, once more she sees the fortune of their circumstance. Once more, his chest feels tight after speaks. Ever so softly, and with it in mind that admitting a truth may release their bonds, he say this: ] I, as well.

[ It is one thing to be cautious to even admit this. It is another thing to make oneself vulnerable enough to do so. Finally, it is something else entirely to trust another that, in light of that vulnerability, that they will not trample upon it. He knows not why he feels it is safe to admit anything in her company.

No, that is a lie. He knows exactly why.

Somnus rolls his wrist against hers, which undoes the last of the thread that binds them. It seems his confession, so benign a thing, had been grand enough to satisfy its conditions. ]

Would you care to sit with me?

[ Should she agree, he’ll unclasp his cloak and lay it upon the ground for her. ]

[Somnus's arm falls untethered, but his presence remains; the understanding that he doesn't intend to leave pleases Rinea more than she expects.]

I would be delighted.

[As Somnus prepares their makeshift blanket, it strikes Rinea that this reminds her, almost... of being courted? But that is a silly notion. Avalon has changed her understanding of human interaction, and so little of the traditions of her time apply. Still, the nostalgic acts of courtesy are comforting in their familiarity. She feels pleasantly warm even under the shade of the willow boughs.]

Hehe... [She smooths her skirts as she sits. ] Shall I leave the flower selection to you?

[ Given that he’s existed incorporeal longer than he had been alive, it has been ages since he’s weaved any laurel. Nevertheless, when Somnus sits beside her— with a courteous distance, on the soft ground itself— he begins plucking a few of the other wildflowers within reach, the muscle memory of the craft guiding his fingers. The willow blossoms he had taken earlier will make for the base, with the others will adorn it further, but he pauses before integrating the first flower.

Somnus’ eyes lift to meet hers. What a soft and pleasant sound, that laugh. ]

As you wish.

[ He’s ignorant of flowers’ meanings (save for two in particular), but in this moment, he considers that going forward, what they mean is something he should attempt to study if only to be able to converse with her about them. Somnus places one pink five-petaled wildflower into the crown, then a white, lacey-appearing one.

…He should try to say something. ]

During spring, Star comes alive with flowers. Do not fret if the laurel feels fragile… for just like the season, it is not made to last. Should petals fall upon one’s shoulders, consider it a blessing.

[ …Privately, of course, the look of flower petals dusting along a woman’s hair or shoulders is quite flattering to him. Seeing as there is no need to tell another truth, he will not be admitting this. ]

[Rinea listens carefully, but she watches perhaps moreso. The juxtaposition of a statuesque, austere Somnus against the whimsical flower blooms is... actually not as jarring as she expected. Perhaps that is proof of how much better she knows him, now? That she can see the man beneath the detached demeanor?

Though... if his minute expressions are anything to go by, the excessive amount of thought he's putting into the laurel is charmingly funny.]

Very well. I shall treasure it while it lasts.

[In preparation of wearing it, Rinea reaches up to unclip her hair ornaments from their customary position above her ears. Once she's gotten them both she pauses, her gaze arrested at the sight of them between her fingers. They... were a gift from Berkut, once. One of the first. Everything else she has put away-- even her ring-- but these yet remain. They are remnants of something lost to time... an old fondness she's held onto.

She places them in the pocket of her skirt.]

I hope you did not take offense to the longer-lasting press I made of your last floral gift. [A joke.]

[ Somnus’ focus remains upon the laurel as he weaves it. He selects another bloom, delicately integrating its stem into the braid of the others. ] It is a thoughtful… [ He turns his head to look at her, lips parted as the rest of the sentence fades from his lips. This is the first he has seen her without those hair ornaments; that he hasn’t is a reminder that their presence must be quite significant to her. ] …keepsake.

[ No doubt those flowers in her hair are a similar treasure. Perhaps offering a laurel is inappropriate, and the lighter jest at the end functions as a cover for her discomfort, as good as a conversationalist she is.

Somnus’ head inclines. Best to err on the side of caution, as a courtesy to her. ] This needn’t replace the ornaments in your hair, if you do not wish.

Ah-- not at all! [Rinea's fingers crumple into her skirt, anxious to reassure him. How astute of him to pick up on her undercurrent of nostalgia, though his conclusion is unnecessary.] I would not have accepted your offer if I did not wish for it, after all. Please.

[The twine bracelet no longer binds them, but Rinea feels almost compelled to over-explain herself, to admit the sentiment behind her decor. Still, the words die away in her throat. For some reason, she doesn't really want to let Berkut's shadow hang over them any longer than it already has that afternoon.

It's that thought that returns her strength: the strength of making a conscious choice.]

I do wear them often, but I shan't wilt without them. I promise. [It's a silly notion, but in the face of Somnus's inevitably solemn reception Rinea cannot help but titter at her own jest.]

[ He watches her as she speaks, noting the sincerity in her tone, and just like that she reassures him that this is neither an imposition nor overstep. And—

”—I shan’t wilt—“

”—wilt—“

He pauses in his task, bringing one hand up to his jaw, moving it as if he means to prevent some other expression from showing. But there it is: a twitch at the corner of his lips, so quick, so faint, that if she’s not looking it will be as if it never happened. His brow furrows afterward; very likely, that almost-expression had been foreign enough to be perplexing.

(When is the last time he had been amused by… anything?) ]

Very well.

[ A laurel is not full crown, and with one last pink blossom added, he holds the completed piece up, shifting the way he sits towards her. ]

May I…?

[Rinea is quite nearly convinced she imagined whatever emotion Somnus just had... but real or not, it seems she got her meaning across.]

Yes! It looks lovely... Please do.

[She sits up a bit, leaning in on one arm to offer her brow. Should she... should she close her eyes for this? The intrusion of a stray stem or petal might spoil things, so after a moment's pause she does so, eyelashes brushing over her cheeks.]

[ Her eyes close as he gently lifts the laurel above her head. This is a curse in itself, granting him a moment to study her features beneath the patchy shade of the willows above. He sees kindness in her features, innocence, and the beauty of one who understands and forgives, who gives to others, who overcomes her grief. This is a beauty unique; this beauty is hers. Would that be all he sees.

Treacherously, it is not. For that same moment is the only one he needs to memorize the length of her lashes, the smoothness of her skin, the delicate angle of her jaw, ...and, indulgently, the rose of her lips. The curve at the corner of them, the echo of her voice within his head, the smile she had given him but a moment ago, how lovely it is, how soft they appear...

Perhaps her closing her eyes is a blessing, too, for she will not know this moment, this weakness that has manifested in his hesitation. He's frozen in place as if he means to lean further in, but wills himself to not. The iron into which he casts himself makes the thunder of his heart resound louder within.

...

She'll feel the feather-like weight of the laurel positioned upon her head, blossoms curving up and above either side of her ears, his fingers working to secure stems into her hair. When he's finished, one hand falls away from her, but the other lingers at the side of her head. His finger crooks, moving to untuck a strand of her hair from behind her ear, allowing it to frame her face. There, his touch lingers upon the side of her cheek warm but distant for a moment, two moments too long...

When she opens her eyes, he withdraws his hand. A shade of peach dusts along his right upper cheek, slight but obvious against the pale tone of his skin. His gaze is thoughtful, reserved, and somehow-- more youthful than it's ever been, speechless as he gazes at her. ]

[Somnus's touch is impossibly gentle. The care in his work, each stem and petal dexterously placed, each strand of hair tenderly arranged, warms her to the bottom of her soul. How can such delicate intimacy exist in a person so determined to close himself off? It is enough to make anyone weep.

When his fingers finally fall away, Rinea opens her eyes. Her smile is arrested halfway by the sight of him. She cannot help but stare-- only for a moment, but it is as if time itself has slowed. She feels like she's seeing something she shouldn't. She feels like she should look away. She feels like Somnus should always look like this.

Her traitorous heart flutters. Her smile completes itself with embarrassment.]

Do I look... strange?

[ The laurel upon her head momentarily returns him to a different time, memories blended to one of fields of white flowers at dawn or of golden wheat at dusk, where all else is silent and nothing but the woman in front of him exists, so close yet so far. It is peaceful. With her it is peaceful.

Strange, she questions? Rather, extraordinary— and he’s just about to say as much when he reconsiders, tempering the enthusiasm that wishes to declare, righteously so, that she is nothing but wonderful.

As she holds his gaze, he struggles between faltering and answering, a turmoil of which is, by some miracle, not betrayed by his stony features. Yet the shy smile she gives him twists his heart, wringing it for every last drop, and the faint tinge of color to his upper right cheekbone remains. If he continues to look at her, he will surely fall further…

…Or he may do something he shouldn’t. ]

Daughter of Rigel… [ He speaks again, the usual steel smoothed over. ]

There are none fairer. If there is anything you should wish for in this moment, I would grant it.

[ Like with most things in her life, Ritsuka just sort of wandered into this casino with no real intention or expectation. She doesn't even remember what her actual initial thoughts were; she'd just drifted in. And once she'd caught sight of Somnus, she'd continued drifting over to him, because it's comforting for her to see a familiar face in a crowd.

Her own expression is quizzical as she listens to the spiel about the feather, her lips pressed into something that isn't quite a smile or a frown. Wow. That's a complicated feeling right there. ]

Pretty sure that's a bad idea... no matter where you go, that sort of thing never seems to work out.

[ Without moving his head, Somnus' eyes move from the feather to his new company. After a moment, he nods. ]

Indeed. This realm enjoys making a mockery of life and death.

It's not like it's unusual, though...

[ Maybe having an actual item that can theoretically revive the dead--that part can be unusual. But people treating it lightly? That, she's familiar with. ]

I dunno. I don't really think there's anything that'd be worth it, on either side of this deal.

[ Still not moving his head, his eyes flick to her, watching her profile from his periphery. ]

One would wonder if the other would even wish to be revived.

...I know I wouldn't.

[ She folds her hands behind her back, rocking a little on her heels. ]

It's not that I want to die, or anything... but I hope that when my time comes, I'm good where I am.

Good. [ --Is all he can say to that, and although his tone is firm, it's in complete agreement, perhaps touched with a hint of praise. Of course, no one wishes to die. Someone coming to its acceptance is a rare quality, indeed.

With the fae so often playing tricks, one may wonder if any of the items are on display are legitimate-- or, in fact, if they do exactly the opposite. Yet, on the chance that it does somehow revive the dead...

Somnus places a bid. This continues for a few rounds before he wins. ]

Then let us dispose of it.

...Just like that??

[ Is this... the power of a protagonist? Is this what it's like, to be so sure of your role as a lead somehow, in some way, that you can just casually make declarations like that? Must be nice! Ritsuka wouldn't know how that works! ]

I don't even know how we would. It's a fae thing, right? Destroying it might cause some problems. ...Right?

[ To him, to dispose of something could either mean to seal it or to destroy it. So with a nod, he turns from the dais, pointing one shoulder at her. Whether or not she follows is up to her. ]

Indeed. In which case, it may be safer to seal it somewhere until it can be properly destroyed.

That part is probably easier. Though probably still easier said than done. I guess we could ask someone who knows more about magic?

[ Her first thought is Kadoc, but that's probably not exactly in his purvey. Who else, though? If only (her) Merlin was here.

She follows him without hesitation, peering at the feather like she expects it to explode. Who knows! It just might! ]

[ They continue to walk through the underground casino. ] Indeed.

[ He's just about the place the feather within his cloak when he seems to notice that Ritsuka is... staring intently at the (supposedly) magical item. ]

...Do you wish to hold it?

No way.

[ That, at least, she can say immediately and without doubt. ]

I just kind of keep worrying it's gonna--blow up or something? Something big.

[ Somnus tucks the feather into his robes. ]

All the more reason to dispose of it.

[ He watches for a time from a distance as the polearms thud rhythmically into their targets. Though he admires the aim, he is loathe to approach after the way he had met his own end. It's difficult to forget such a traumatic death, especially when the stakes had been so very high for both sides. His chest twinges with phantom pain at the memory of it and he unconsciously lifts a hand to the spot where he had been pierced.

Eventually he does wander closer. He circles in such a way that he would never be in any of the projectiles' paths until he's within earshot. ]

I never took you for a spear thrower.

[ When the other approaches, Somnus lifts his chin in a cordial greeting. Whether it is from the exertion of the exercise thus far or something else, his stance is more rugged than not. ] Hail, Mage.

[ Somnus raises a cloth to the side of his neck, dabbing at some of the perspiration dewing upon his skin. ]

I confess I have been neglecting practice... But they make for good sport.

[ He nods, glancing at the split polearm a ways from them. ]

You have impressive aim for one being out of practice. What of other arms?

Greatswords and the like. [ He answers, folding the cloth and placing it next to some spare javelins. Somnus then plucks one of these out from the ground, testing its weight in his hand. ]

Do you care to join?

[ He eyes the javelin being hefted by Somnus. If it isn't being thrown at him...surely there would be nothing wrong with a bout? ]

A greatsword, hmm?

[ He whistles and his familiar pokes its head out of a patch of darkness that appears by his knee. ]

Could you bring me my weapon, Nyx?

[ She squalls and retracts her head. A few moments later she hops out fully with the gunblade in her mouth and he bends to take it from her. ]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

May Catch-All Log [ota]

knots

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Casino Bidding

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Idle training

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oh my god where did the time go I'm so sorry