#me: bro Cayin same

[yeleltaan]

Silently and secretly, the hunter’s drawn-out contemplation brews a sense of anticipation underneath that mild-mannered guise of his, and there it must remain through whatever source of discipline he draws from, so that he may not be robbed of the pleasure of listening her response. However, even his watchful gaze must avert when it is met so suddenly with an inquiry of that nature, fall to a lower corner of his vision before becoming eclipsed with the closing of eyes. “…Heysel, I can’t-” Words fall quiet to give way to the exhaled blend of sincere chuckle and incredulous gasp.

Silence. The slant of his head is much like hers, only slightly turned. His eyelids part so his stare can reach her again; untouched by the fabled blood and thus bereft of that bestial reflection, still a gleam of soft gold finds its way to the side of his pupils prompted by the glow of the opposing lamp.

“I don’t know if I’ll get much out of her... the Heysel in my mind likes to tell her secrets in small quantities too. But, as much as she speaks of woods and tunnels, and her profession may require her to not be too picky with the when... I imagine after such hard work, she would like to take her time. She’s a very articulate person you see? The way she puts her thoughts into words, the intonation she chooses and all of her gesturing, it’s all very precise. It comes from the heart, so powerfully it does, but mindfully. Like a poem. I would think that’s how she’d like to do it, if given the chance. Make it something to remember.”

His gloved hand travels the distance rising from his sternum to the top of his cravat, exposed index and middle fingers trace the invisible path marked by her claw. As he does, Cayin wonders how much this Heysel of the mind would like him to share. And how much the Heysel in front of him would like to hear.

An unspoken question sits upon his tongue. With every second his eyes threaten to tell her with betraying susurration. Lowly, carefully, a different whisper passes his lips.

 “It’s very mean of you to ask me like this. I’m watching my step in this garden, and you’re setting me up to trip. You have to understand, I’m being watched by not one, but two of you right now. And the thought of offending either is a little frightening. So if you're not satisfied, I may have other guesses... but if I am to speak them, I would first like another clue."

yeleltaan​:

“I won’t claim to know you so personally, and do forgive me for speaking on a personal matter like this, but I have trouble believing that. That there’d be anything risible about them, I mean. Or that the knowledge of them would be somehow less remarkable.”

“Intensity is no substitute for depth, nor is abundance for worth, certainly not on their own. The subtle, the simple, the tender and the shy… I get the feeling that sometimes in this city these things are overlooked in favor of their opposites, but I think that contrast makes them all the prettier. But of course, what do I know.”

Heysel tilts her head. She thinks. She thinks, she thinks, she rolls his words around her tongue like a mouthful of wine, with quiet pleasure.

"Talking with you is ever enlightening, you know? Allow me to first say that I agree. The extravagant makes for the most thrilling subject, and though what one shares is hardly all they believe, it does seem at times the simple and the soft are deemed too banal for conversation. And when such things are already rarity in this city, it's almost saddening."

Her hands slide inside her coat's pockets. She thinks. She stares.

"What do you believe my tastes are like, Cayin? Look at me. Take your time, but look. Don't be shy. The Heysel in your mind, who wears my skin but your perception- what does she want?"