And yet, I've already seen that moment in a fair more intimate way than any painting. [ The words don't come with the solemn respect that the subject perhaps deserves, but of course, Lucius doesn't mean anything by it. Eridanus is right to say that the memory means nothing to Lucius—and that makes him content to move past it without lingering on the negativity bound up in the topic. ] What need is there for either of us to dwell over a facsimile of what we've seen in the flesh?
[ Just ignore it. That is, unfortunately, Lucius' advice for most things of this nature—but it has worked where his own insecurities are concerned, for millennia longer than Eridanus has been alive, so he doesn't see why it wouldn't work for him as well. ]
I want you to see me. [ The words slip from Lucius without thought, and there is an urgency that coils in his chest that doesn't quite reach those easy words. ] There is a portrait of me there, painted by the hand of Serena d'Angelus. A woman among the most skilled of her art and era. It's one of her last works, too.
[Eridanus knows Lucius' words to be true, that there is no point dwelling upon the ghosts of past, and that no amount of regret would ever change the fate of his students. He knows it like he knows the face of that young man from behind Lucius' own gaze, and he ignores it. Lucius' words are tucked away quietly next to that memory forced upon his psyche, and buried deep within him where they won't be touched. He isn't ready to let go of this grief for his students, and when Lucius changes the topic, he's all too eager to go along with it.
Except that the words out of Lucius' mouth tug something within him. They came as fluid and relaxed as anything from the man that laid across his chest, and yet, there is something more. A hint of depth that he quietly grasps at and holds to his heart.
Eridanus's claws trace a crescent behind the curve of Lucius' ear, following the line of his sculpted jaw and tilting his chin up so their eyes meet. Golden cat-eyes would be greeted by a warm, loving smile.] I will see you, if you wish me to. I will bask in your former glory as I bask in your current. Anything for my Eternal.
[He doesn't think about the pleasant hum of intoxication within his head, only the slow thud of his heart rate as his chest tightens with his own words. Awkward as it is, he tips his own chin so that he may kiss Lucius' forehead adoringly.] Perhaps we can make a trip there sometime soon?
[ Perhaps it's those intoxicating drafts he had pulled from the bottle himself, but as he is met with that adoring smile, Lucius finds he can do nothing but laugh. He supposes they are lovers, in a sense, but even so, to treat him like one—the absurdity of it makes his shoulders hitch, mirth overflowing from his throat like water left too long to boil. ]
If any brother of mine saw the way you look at me, they'd think you more insane than I am. [ Even as he chokes down his laughter, his shoulders shake with the humor of it all. ] And perhaps they would be right! We'll see what you have to say, once you've seen it for yourself.
[ And yet, as his trembling shoulders finally still, he sinks down as if the shape of Eridanus was a bed made just for him. He finds his collar a comfortable enough place for his head to rest, and so he lays it there, thinking to himself that he's lucky Eridanus is so easily impressed by the sight of him in this frail, mortal body. The thought settles over him like the arms of a peaceful sleep, and his limbs relax in a way they so rarely do. ]
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[ Just ignore it. That is, unfortunately, Lucius' advice for most things of this nature—but it has worked where his own insecurities are concerned, for millennia longer than Eridanus has been alive, so he doesn't see why it wouldn't work for him as well. ]
I want you to see me. [ The words slip from Lucius without thought, and there is an urgency that coils in his chest that doesn't quite reach those easy words. ] There is a portrait of me there, painted by the hand of Serena d'Angelus. A woman among the most skilled of her art and era. It's one of her last works, too.
no subject
Except that the words out of Lucius' mouth tug something within him. They came as fluid and relaxed as anything from the man that laid across his chest, and yet, there is something more. A hint of depth that he quietly grasps at and holds to his heart.
Eridanus's claws trace a crescent behind the curve of Lucius' ear, following the line of his sculpted jaw and tilting his chin up so their eyes meet. Golden cat-eyes would be greeted by a warm, loving smile.] I will see you, if you wish me to. I will bask in your former glory as I bask in your current. Anything for my Eternal.
[He doesn't think about the pleasant hum of intoxication within his head, only the slow thud of his heart rate as his chest tightens with his own words. Awkward as it is, he tips his own chin so that he may kiss Lucius' forehead adoringly.] Perhaps we can make a trip there sometime soon?
no subject
If any brother of mine saw the way you look at me, they'd think you more insane than I am. [ Even as he chokes down his laughter, his shoulders shake with the humor of it all. ] And perhaps they would be right! We'll see what you have to say, once you've seen it for yourself.
[ And yet, as his trembling shoulders finally still, he sinks down as if the shape of Eridanus was a bed made just for him. He finds his collar a comfortable enough place for his head to rest, and so he lays it there, thinking to himself that he's lucky Eridanus is so easily impressed by the sight of him in this frail, mortal body. The thought settles over him like the arms of a peaceful sleep, and his limbs relax in a way they so rarely do. ]
Whenever you wish, my Archmage.