The word rings through Eridanus' mind like a chorus of chamber bells, and he can feel his heart rate quicken with the giddiness of an inexperienced teenager. The corners of his lips quirk up into an awkward little smile, and a shy laugh warfs from his lungs.]
You flatter meā [His playful words are cut short as Lucius stalks into his personal space, and while it wasn't unwelcome by any means, Eridanus found himself suddenly feeling much too small. Those slitting golden eyes watch him with the hunger of a beast ready to pounce, and once more his skin sings with the instinct to flee.
Just as every time before, he stays right where he's sat. Eridanus lifts his hands, cupping Lucius' face as those adoring eyes fall half-lidded.]
Hmm... let me see. Slaughter wantonly, and bathe myself bloody in the streets? I'm sure that sight would amuse you. Or perhaps... besting you in that duel? How satisfying for the both of us for your first scar against this handsome face to be made by my victory? [Slender obsidian-sharp points trace the lines of Lucius' face as he speaks, and there's a softness to his expression that is stark against his drunkenness.]
Or perhaps a gift? A head still wet at the stump... though I can imagine you would also like a new chassis of armor?
[ Eridanus' mature features light with the infatuation of a boy many, many years younger, and the feeling the lights in Lucius' chest is a ticklish mix of humor and curiosity. It bubbles a laugh to his throat as Eridanus finds his words cut short, and does nothing to discourage the predatory gleam of his hooded eyes, Lucius watching Eridanus below him as if he were every bit as small as he feels. It's funnyāEridanus has shown him just how experienced he is, and yet, underneath Lucius, he's tongue-tied and helpless.
When those hands come up to cradle his face, Lucius allows them. He leans into the touch, and as Eridanus answers him, a gentle purr rumbles in his chest. ]
Eridanus, [ he says, and the name is a purr, tooāof a different sort. He settles himself from his hunter's posture, letting his lithe shape slot into the firmness of Eridanus' body under him. ] If you can so much as push me in a duel, I'll do far more than praise you.
[ But, even in rest, the threat is never gone from Lucius' manner. He drags his tongue across his teeth as if savoring some unspoken pleasure, and his fingers trail along the flesh beneath his chināvulnerable, in comparison, the tips of his claws memorizing every gap in the uneven opal as they graze along his skin.
The offer of a head is always a nice one, particularly with all the thoughts of his own Champion that come with itābut what actually attracts his attention the most is the suggestion of armor. His tufted ears had sat relaxed, but now they perk. ]
Without the gift Slaanesh has given me, it won't be the same. Why, I wonder ā do you wish to see me in my full splendor as lord over his warhost?
[ The question is delivered with a particular sort of coyness usually reserved for attire more easily removed. ]
[As the weight of Lucius' body relaxes against his own, Eridanus finds himself easing back down onto the couch. From an outside perspective, the two could easily look as if they were simply two lovers, lazing in the afternoon sun. By appearance alone, the nature and implications of their conversation would be lost and yet, it's exactly the connection that has brought two separate souls together. In such close proximity the gentle, if not romantic entangling of their forms, is enough to worry Eridanus that his thundering heartbeat would be noticed. Heat blooms in his pallid cheeks and flushes down the length of his neck and ears, his bashfulness encouraged by coca wine.
Lucius' words nag curious thoughts to his head, and before he can stifle them, his lips part.] What is better than your praise? [He asks quietly, as excitement buzzes under his skin.
His claws travel down, over the curve of Lucius' shoulders, before dipping between them. He drags exploring hands over those sides, once knotted with the muscles of a soldier, yet now as lean as a prowling cat's. As Lucius continues on about the armor, his words drum up a memory that wasn't his, of armor he had never seen before. It's true, it isn't the same, and no manner of enchantments could replicate itāeven if Eridanus knew the proper necromantic runes.]
And is it so awful to think that you would look lovely, draped in finery befitting of your profession? Golden armor to match golden eyes and hair. Plate dripping with blood commands stronger emotion than a shirt and jeans, don't you agree? [Eridanus chuckles at the thought, and his claws drag lazily up Lucius' spine as he does.]
[ Clawed fingers drag along his ribs and spine, and perhaps it's merely the intoxicant flooding his own veins, but the sensation lulls his own ever-chaotic thoughts. Lucius allows a deep breath to gust from his nose, and again, of his body's own accord, there is that rumbling sound from deep in his chest. He hasn't thought on it much before, but for a moment, he finds himself lingering over the way Eridanus' touch seems to coax it out from him.
He doesn't feel any shameājust curiosity over this little change, the same way the expressive motion of his ears is a novelty. As Eridanus' body relaxes beneath him, so does his own, limbs lazy and slack as Lucius allows his weight to settle comfortably atop the other man. ]
Oh, my beast, [ Lucius begins to answer, the laugh in his voice hitching the words, ] there is so much more I can give you.
[ But even as he answers, there is a dangerous thought in the back of his headāthat he knows that heady elation, where to simply have that one particular man turn his gaze upon him would nearly be enough for him to die happy. The simple idea sends his blood racing quicker in his veins, and he can feel his own heartbeat in his chest as his tongue darts across his lips. ]
There is my touch, [ he lifts his head with an impish smile, brushing the backs of his knuckles over Eridanus' cheek, ] or perhaps I could reward you with a gift of my own. Wouldn't that be lovely?
[ He thinks about the gift he has already meant to pass to his handābut now isn't the time for it, and neither is it meant to be held over his head as the carrot. His mind drifts around to the idea of armor again, and it's true: it would be so much more befitting of him, even in this diminished form. His eyes fall half-lidded as he lets himself savor the image of himself that Eridanus paints in his mind, blood-soaked and powerful. ]
Golden ā is that the color you think suits me best?
[ Now his smile takes on a flirtatious cast, to match his voice. ]
[Eridanus had never been the most fond of cuddling. Having someone in his personal space was always a nuisance, and even with his wife he had kept their physical touching chaste more often than not. It had been with the excuse of propriety, and the expectations of noble society, but he had found comfort in those fleeting touches.
Yet with Lucius, his space is constantly invaded, as if it's just another piece of the galaxy for this warlord to conquerāexcept he didn't seem to mind it so much, even finding himself eager for when next it would happen. The way Lucius relaxes against him flares excitement through his limbs, buzzing all the way to the tips of those claws that dragged lazily up and down his spine. It felt like earning the trust of a skittish beast, and as Eridanus lays his head back to savor the feeling, he cannot help the thought of just how lucky he is.
As Lucius lists off the rewards to be given one by one, Eridanus can't help the mocking chuckle that rises from his throat.]
You touch me so often, I doubt that would be much of a reward. [His weight shifts beneath the other, accommodating him more comfortably as his claws find the sensitive meat between Lucius' shoulder blades to draw slow circles.]
A gift of your own... hm, interesting and enigmatic. I wonder, what is the type of gift a man who lives his life so wantonly to give? [He draws a short breath, looking down his chest and into those golden eyes.
When the conversation shifts back to what he could only assume to be the armor, Eridanus' visage splits into a coy grin. He raises a hand from Lucius' back and combs his fingers through that short blond hair. Was it getting longer? He couldn't quite tell.
His own cheek leans into that lover's touch, and he sighs.] Hair and eyes of gold, as if touched by the sun... looking at you makes me want to dress you in my house colors, and admire how handsome you would look. Gold, crimson, and black like dark umbra. The only thing missing would be the blood and bodies of foes at your feet.
[ It's said to tease, more than anything. The truth is that a gift from his hand is rarely different than the prizes he takes for himselfāsomething that had seemed interesting and right at the time, but little more. Still, a little suspense is rarely a bad thing, and he can't say he doesn't wonder what Eridanus might do for the chance to earn one.
As Eridanus draws up a brutal image of blood and bodies, a low laugh wafts from Lucius' lungs. He knows he is wearing the wrong face for it, and yet, he settles into the vision as if pulling on an old and comfortable coat; his head leans itself into the touch of clawed fingers in his hair, and rather than stimulated with the desire to kill, he finds himself soothed. He hasn't been keen on dwelling over the way he misses receiving even an ounce of the respect he is owed for his martial accomplishments, but now that someone is giving him as muchāunprompted, evenāhe can't help but bask in it.
There is one problem with the image Eridanus puts forth, however. ]
Gold and black are fine enough, but I much prefer the only red be the blood of the fallen painting my armor. [ His eyes, drifted close in acceptance of the touch, peel half-open, and his lips pull back in a smile as content as it is smug. ] Crimson dyes would only serve to hide just how much has been spilled by my blade, don't you agree?
[ There's probably some religious irony to be mentioned as well, but as Lucius has said before: he doesn't serve Slaanesh. Slaanesh's favor serves him, first and foremost. ]
[A bark of a laugh forces its way through Eridnaus' lungs, his expression creasing with amusement. That of all things wrong with the picture he paints, Lucius finds issue with the color red. It's almost ridiculous, but as those words pass between them, his only thought is that of course Lucius would trade vanity for only one thing: glory.
Those curling claws trace over the curve of his skull, settling to one side and scratching just behind his ear.]
I would argue that the crimson is typically for accents, and would not overpower the armor. Our dressage is mainly black with gold and crimson decorating it, in fact... [He takes a breath, they pauses as he remembers that his mage's clothes are at his apartment with Rosefica, not here.]
Well, I think that museum is still open and running exhibits on us like zoo animals. Maybe we can go there one day and I'll show you images of my home.
Then perhaps I'm simply more partial to the two your house shares with the livery of the Emperor's Children.
[ Though, of course, it isn't as though he has worn those violets and golds himself for a long, long time, his living armor wrapped instead in the pinkish, unrotting flesh of those foolish enough to believe they could kill the Eternal without consequence. There's a vague thought that floats around in the back of his mind, about how they might have nearly matched once, but the claws teasing his scalp distract him, and his eyes flutter closed again.
Another half-formed thought begins to surface, about how he would allow no one else, save for perhaps Clarion, to touch him this way, but before he can follow it through to whatever questions and answers come along with it, Eridanus mentions the museum. His eyes open, and his ears perk. ]
Do you not care for it? It pleases me that my accomplishments are known even here, myself. [ Lucius is not a man who looks on any part of his life with shame, and accordingly, it doesn't so much as occur to him that others may have things displayed there that they do not want largely known. He just sees an opportunity to know more of the man who has sworn himself to him, and an opportunity to further impress him with the image of his glorious victories. ] Perhaps I ought to be the one to show you mine, then. I wonder, what will you think of your vow when you look upon my true face?
[Another short laugh escapes Eridnaus, though he leaves it at that. He can only imagine what faction within Lucius' world that his colors hold significance with, and he wonders for a moment what the man will think when he brandishes his new sword at their duel.
It's a short lived fantasy though, as his words prompt him back to the thought of the museum. The gentle smile, full of mirth, falls away to a more somber expression. His fingers still for the barest of moments, before gliding across the crown of Lucius' head to lavish his other ear in attention.]
Hm well, there are plenty of my accomplishments there. Raiments I've worn throughout my centuries, and even my own full bodied painting prior to these changes. [He remembers that Lucius met him after his first changes began, and technically after he'd put on all the new muscle weight too. He wonders just how Lucius would view him, in his emaciated splendor.]
But there are also paintings of that painful memory you saw, and while it may not mean much to you, it certainly does to me. It is my greatest regret, and to be reminded of it is like stabbing an old wound open. [His brows furrow then, and he sighs.] If you are curious enough, we can go. If anything, I'll gaze upon your portrait in full glory.
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 Luciusāand 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 natureābut 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 oneāthe 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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no subject
The word rings through Eridanus' mind like a chorus of chamber bells, and he can feel his heart rate quicken with the giddiness of an inexperienced teenager. The corners of his lips quirk up into an awkward little smile, and a shy laugh warfs from his lungs.]
You flatter meā [His playful words are cut short as Lucius stalks into his personal space, and while it wasn't unwelcome by any means, Eridanus found himself suddenly feeling much too small. Those slitting golden eyes watch him with the hunger of a beast ready to pounce, and once more his skin sings with the instinct to flee.
Just as every time before, he stays right where he's sat. Eridanus lifts his hands, cupping Lucius' face as those adoring eyes fall half-lidded.]
Hmm... let me see. Slaughter wantonly, and bathe myself bloody in the streets? I'm sure that sight would amuse you. Or perhaps... besting you in that duel? How satisfying for the both of us for your first scar against this handsome face to be made by my victory? [Slender obsidian-sharp points trace the lines of Lucius' face as he speaks, and there's a softness to his expression that is stark against his drunkenness.]
Or perhaps a gift? A head still wet at the stump... though I can imagine you would also like a new chassis of armor?
no subject
When those hands come up to cradle his face, Lucius allows them. He leans into the touch, and as Eridanus answers him, a gentle purr rumbles in his chest. ]
Eridanus, [ he says, and the name is a purr, tooāof a different sort. He settles himself from his hunter's posture, letting his lithe shape slot into the firmness of Eridanus' body under him. ] If you can so much as push me in a duel, I'll do far more than praise you.
[ But, even in rest, the threat is never gone from Lucius' manner. He drags his tongue across his teeth as if savoring some unspoken pleasure, and his fingers trail along the flesh beneath his chināvulnerable, in comparison, the tips of his claws memorizing every gap in the uneven opal as they graze along his skin.
The offer of a head is always a nice one, particularly with all the thoughts of his own Champion that come with itābut what actually attracts his attention the most is the suggestion of armor. His tufted ears had sat relaxed, but now they perk. ]
Without the gift Slaanesh has given me, it won't be the same. Why, I wonder ā do you wish to see me in my full splendor as lord over his warhost?
[ The question is delivered with a particular sort of coyness usually reserved for attire more easily removed. ]
no subject
Lucius' words nag curious thoughts to his head, and before he can stifle them, his lips part.] What is better than your praise? [He asks quietly, as excitement buzzes under his skin.
His claws travel down, over the curve of Lucius' shoulders, before dipping between them. He drags exploring hands over those sides, once knotted with the muscles of a soldier, yet now as lean as a prowling cat's. As Lucius continues on about the armor, his words drum up a memory that wasn't his, of armor he had never seen before. It's true, it isn't the same, and no manner of enchantments could replicate itāeven if Eridanus knew the proper necromantic runes.]
And is it so awful to think that you would look lovely, draped in finery befitting of your profession? Golden armor to match golden eyes and hair. Plate dripping with blood commands stronger emotion than a shirt and jeans, don't you agree? [Eridanus chuckles at the thought, and his claws drag lazily up Lucius' spine as he does.]
no subject
He doesn't feel any shameājust curiosity over this little change, the same way the expressive motion of his ears is a novelty. As Eridanus' body relaxes beneath him, so does his own, limbs lazy and slack as Lucius allows his weight to settle comfortably atop the other man. ]
Oh, my beast, [ Lucius begins to answer, the laugh in his voice hitching the words, ] there is so much more I can give you.
[ But even as he answers, there is a dangerous thought in the back of his headāthat he knows that heady elation, where to simply have that one particular man turn his gaze upon him would nearly be enough for him to die happy. The simple idea sends his blood racing quicker in his veins, and he can feel his own heartbeat in his chest as his tongue darts across his lips. ]
There is my touch, [ he lifts his head with an impish smile, brushing the backs of his knuckles over Eridanus' cheek, ] or perhaps I could reward you with a gift of my own. Wouldn't that be lovely?
[ He thinks about the gift he has already meant to pass to his handābut now isn't the time for it, and neither is it meant to be held over his head as the carrot. His mind drifts around to the idea of armor again, and it's true: it would be so much more befitting of him, even in this diminished form. His eyes fall half-lidded as he lets himself savor the image of himself that Eridanus paints in his mind, blood-soaked and powerful. ]
Golden ā is that the color you think suits me best?
[ Now his smile takes on a flirtatious cast, to match his voice. ]
no subject
Yet with Lucius, his space is constantly invaded, as if it's just another piece of the galaxy for this warlord to conquerāexcept he didn't seem to mind it so much, even finding himself eager for when next it would happen. The way Lucius relaxes against him flares excitement through his limbs, buzzing all the way to the tips of those claws that dragged lazily up and down his spine. It felt like earning the trust of a skittish beast, and as Eridanus lays his head back to savor the feeling, he cannot help the thought of just how lucky he is.
As Lucius lists off the rewards to be given one by one, Eridanus can't help the mocking chuckle that rises from his throat.]
You touch me so often, I doubt that would be much of a reward. [His weight shifts beneath the other, accommodating him more comfortably as his claws find the sensitive meat between Lucius' shoulder blades to draw slow circles.]
A gift of your own... hm, interesting and enigmatic. I wonder, what is the type of gift a man who lives his life so wantonly to give? [He draws a short breath, looking down his chest and into those golden eyes.
When the conversation shifts back to what he could only assume to be the armor, Eridanus' visage splits into a coy grin. He raises a hand from Lucius' back and combs his fingers through that short blond hair. Was it getting longer? He couldn't quite tell.
His own cheek leans into that lover's touch, and he sighs.] Hair and eyes of gold, as if touched by the sun... looking at you makes me want to dress you in my house colors, and admire how handsome you would look. Gold, crimson, and black like dark umbra. The only thing missing would be the blood and bodies of foes at your feet.
no subject
[ It's said to tease, more than anything. The truth is that a gift from his hand is rarely different than the prizes he takes for himselfāsomething that had seemed interesting and right at the time, but little more. Still, a little suspense is rarely a bad thing, and he can't say he doesn't wonder what Eridanus might do for the chance to earn one.
As Eridanus draws up a brutal image of blood and bodies, a low laugh wafts from Lucius' lungs. He knows he is wearing the wrong face for it, and yet, he settles into the vision as if pulling on an old and comfortable coat; his head leans itself into the touch of clawed fingers in his hair, and rather than stimulated with the desire to kill, he finds himself soothed. He hasn't been keen on dwelling over the way he misses receiving even an ounce of the respect he is owed for his martial accomplishments, but now that someone is giving him as muchāunprompted, evenāhe can't help but bask in it.
There is one problem with the image Eridanus puts forth, however. ]
Gold and black are fine enough, but I much prefer the only red be the blood of the fallen painting my armor. [ His eyes, drifted close in acceptance of the touch, peel half-open, and his lips pull back in a smile as content as it is smug. ] Crimson dyes would only serve to hide just how much has been spilled by my blade, don't you agree?
[ There's probably some religious irony to be mentioned as well, but as Lucius has said before: he doesn't serve Slaanesh. Slaanesh's favor serves him, first and foremost. ]
no subject
Those curling claws trace over the curve of his skull, settling to one side and scratching just behind his ear.]
I would argue that the crimson is typically for accents, and would not overpower the armor. Our dressage is mainly black with gold and crimson decorating it, in fact... [He takes a breath, they pauses as he remembers that his mage's clothes are at his apartment with Rosefica, not here.]
Well, I think that museum is still open and running exhibits on us like zoo animals. Maybe we can go there one day and I'll show you images of my home.
no subject
[ Though, of course, it isn't as though he has worn those violets and golds himself for a long, long time, his living armor wrapped instead in the pinkish, unrotting flesh of those foolish enough to believe they could kill the Eternal without consequence. There's a vague thought that floats around in the back of his mind, about how they might have nearly matched once, but the claws teasing his scalp distract him, and his eyes flutter closed again.
Another half-formed thought begins to surface, about how he would allow no one else, save for perhaps Clarion, to touch him this way, but before he can follow it through to whatever questions and answers come along with it, Eridanus mentions the museum. His eyes open, and his ears perk. ]
Do you not care for it? It pleases me that my accomplishments are known even here, myself. [ Lucius is not a man who looks on any part of his life with shame, and accordingly, it doesn't so much as occur to him that others may have things displayed there that they do not want largely known. He just sees an opportunity to know more of the man who has sworn himself to him, and an opportunity to further impress him with the image of his glorious victories. ] Perhaps I ought to be the one to show you mine, then. I wonder, what will you think of your vow when you look upon my true face?
no subject
It's a short lived fantasy though, as his words prompt him back to the thought of the museum. The gentle smile, full of mirth, falls away to a more somber expression. His fingers still for the barest of moments, before gliding across the crown of Lucius' head to lavish his other ear in attention.]
Hm well, there are plenty of my accomplishments there. Raiments I've worn throughout my centuries, and even my own full bodied painting prior to these changes. [He remembers that Lucius met him after his first changes began, and technically after he'd put on all the new muscle weight too. He wonders just how Lucius would view him, in his emaciated splendor.]
But there are also paintings of that painful memory you saw, and while it may not mean much to you, it certainly does to me. It is my greatest regret, and to be reminded of it is like stabbing an old wound open. [His brows furrow then, and he sighs.] If you are curious enough, we can go. If anything, I'll gaze upon your portrait in full glory.
no subject
[ Just ignore it. That is, unfortunately, Lucius' advice for most things of this natureābut 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.