[Don’t touch his FACE with no warning, and maybe then he’ll keep the blushes on lockdown. Under present circumstances, all Liem can do is pretend not to notice.
He retreats further into his home as Set prowls after him, up a short flight of stairs, coming to an open space that stretches from a sitting room at the street-facing end, through a dining area, to a kitchen at the house’s rear. In the near-blackness, the shapes of tidily kept, ornately carved furniture can be made out. In consideration of his guest, he twitches one set of curtains at the front window open slightly, allowing a double-slice of sunlight to filter through the thinner curtains beneath; the modest illumination reveals that the space is furnished in golds and pastels, ranging from blue in the sitting area to sunset colours in the kitchen.]
I am not well suited to it, [he agrees. He doesn’t bother to specify that it is not the light that bothers him, but the suns; the gleam of fire or magic, even when blisteringly bright, does not assault his senses the same way that even the pale light of dawn does.
Not that he has had the opportunity to experience any dawns in recent weeks.
He has to detour to the other end of the space to find another teacup for his visitor; he remains keenly aware of the man following him close behind as he stops in front of a spotless countertop.]
I do not find parties restful. [He opens a cupboard above the counter, reaches up to retrieve what he’s seeking.] I did not shun all company these past weeks; Hayame requested my advice when she was preparing for the event, and I delivered it to her in person. But I have afflictions of my own that pleasant company does not alleviate. Excess tends to make them worse, not better.
no subject
He retreats further into his home as Set prowls after him, up a short flight of stairs, coming to an open space that stretches from a sitting room at the street-facing end, through a dining area, to a kitchen at the house’s rear. In the near-blackness, the shapes of tidily kept, ornately carved furniture can be made out. In consideration of his guest, he twitches one set of curtains at the front window open slightly, allowing a double-slice of sunlight to filter through the thinner curtains beneath; the modest illumination reveals that the space is furnished in golds and pastels, ranging from blue in the sitting area to sunset colours in the kitchen.]
I am not well suited to it, [he agrees. He doesn’t bother to specify that it is not the light that bothers him, but the suns; the gleam of fire or magic, even when blisteringly bright, does not assault his senses the same way that even the pale light of dawn does.
Not that he has had the opportunity to experience any dawns in recent weeks.
He has to detour to the other end of the space to find another teacup for his visitor; he remains keenly aware of the man following him close behind as he stops in front of a spotless countertop.]
I do not find parties restful. [He opens a cupboard above the counter, reaches up to retrieve what he’s seeking.] I did not shun all company these past weeks; Hayame requested my advice when she was preparing for the event, and I delivered it to her in person. But I have afflictions of my own that pleasant company does not alleviate. Excess tends to make them worse, not better.