songerein | open [catch-all, quest 202]

Entry tags:

open [catch-all, quest 202]

Who: somnus & you
Which: log
Where: around
What: Quests, Catch-all, Wild-card
Warnings: cupid's pranks prompts

Quest 202: Cupid's Pranks

[ That this dream world is able to alter one's state of mind, consciousness, and emotions (or all three at once) is nothing new. Having been here over a year, the mayhem caused by these alterations is anything but charming. Phantom-- that is, incorporeal-- or not, wayward arrows bearing the mysterious power of this realm affect him as well; thus, he, too, must remain vigilant. But there's a flutter of wings, a giggle, a swift woosh, followed by a muted tap of a toy arrow against his back... and it's all over. The projectile falls upon the ground, joining a few soft, white feathers scattered behind as the cherub vanishes from sight... ]

Amorous
[ It could be within the smithy, the town square, near the treehouses, the cafe, or anywhere, and it could be any time of day or night, but you will find that Reverin's resident ghost stands alone, striken and still. Only the pale, spectral aura of his death long passed shifts about him in its usual light, ambient and cold as the moon. His cloak rustles, and a hand emerges from the dark, heavy fabric to rise upward. Long fingers make a cage upon the slight-left of his upper chest. The motion is tender, steadying, and fragile, braiding all three delicately and deadly as a weaver's edge.

His expression, polished as marble, ripples with an unseen weight. Ashen, solemn, his gaze raises... to meet yours.

This. This is a great, incomprehensible, and terrible pain. ]
Hostile
[ Among the various treehouses is one that's long been unoccupied-- seemingly, anyways, because the entire year that it has been claimed as a residence, very rarely has the resident himself occupied it. Curiously, though, there is a modest bit of land beside it that's cleared of snow and ice, thanks to the warmer weather besetting Reverin. Unfortunately for the same reason, the soil is no longer "soil", but melted slush and mud, with all four of its stone borders in disarray. This garden, if it can be called that in this state, is largely ruined, indiscernible from the rest of the land.

To make matters worse, the long-absent resident himself is actually here. He's leaning against the base of the tree, shadowed by its bare branches, his focus remaining fixed upon the damp, turned soil. Brow lowered, jaw tight, he doesn't appear too pleased. Perhaps the uncanny weather may have disrupted whatever he was trying to grow...

Or maybe it's you, who's unwittingly encroaching on this meager, misshapen mash of mud and brick if only to pass by. It's here that he stops you immediately. His voice is frost over steel. ] Hold.

Smithy

[ As ususal, Somnus can be found in his smithy within Reverin. He no longer manifests in his traditional, giant-suit-of-armor, but instead his phantom form that gives him the ability to craft with much more precision. Here, he works on weapons, tools, and even jewelry! ]

Wildcard

[ Have an idea? PM this account, drinksteapots, or Jade294#6977! For the Amarous prompt, please only characters 18+ because of romantic overtones. For Hostile, depending on the interaction, Somnus may lash out! ]

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[That doesn't feel correct, but he says it with such conviction she can't bring herself to disagree. It's reassuring enough that she merely nods, her expression turning thoughtful. She will at least believe that he means what he says, and that whatever is so troublesome for him is not caused by anything she'd done.

So... hmm. She feels somewhat at a standstill, but he seems so discomforted by her questioning that it would be wrong of her to push. Her goal is not to pester him with her worries or make him feel worse. That would not be a kind thing to do, and he's been patient with her multiple attempts already. After a few moments of quiet, she finally responds,]

Alright. I believe you.

[If he doesn't want to talk about it, she won't force him. They can just... walk for a while. It's okay, she thinks, it isn't a bad thing to do nothing more than share one's company with another. Maybe he'll feel better after.]

[ That she doesn’t press him further speaks to her kindness once more. As always, she is thoughtful of others. She is thoughtful for everyone, and how lovely that is.

They continue on their walk, and maybe this will do the both of them good. Him, for reasons he keeps quiet about, and perhaps for her, some time in which she is not busying herself with a chore.

To think that she offered closing up the smithy for him, when it should be his responsibility.

It’s a bit of a topic change, but he inquires: ]

Have you… ever considered that you work too much?

I work too much?

[She glances sidelong at him, surprised. Isn't he the one usually going on about duty and expectations? The need to work hard and protect what they have? Nevermind that he basically lives at the smithy and this whole conversation started because she was shocked he might leave early...

Hypocrisy aside, she does give the question some thought. No, she probably doesn't usually consider that. Should she is another story.]

I suppose I haven't given it much thought. When work needs to be done, I usually volunteer. It's mostly habit at this point.

[ Sidelong glances as they stroll shouldn't be this difficult to break away from, but here he is, holding her gaze when she does look at him. He's unable to tear his away. ]

That is to say... [ She helps at the smithy, picking up after Alphen when she needn't, or taking up his tasks in addition to hers when he is out. All this, without any complaint. It is impossible not to notice how her help includes actively reaching out to others or simply doing a task before being asked. ] You go beyond, taking others' responsibilities as your own, putting them before yourself.

[ Only once has he seen her indisposed, and that had been in the fields of flowers back when they had taken up roles within a story involving "Oz". In a dream world that affords them the time, he would rather see her enjoy herself with leisure activity, not staying within the smithy and working with iron. ]

[She wonders what he must see, looking at her like that. Holding her gaze the way he is. She's trying to follow his words, but it's a little distracting, in truth.]

I... suppose.

[It's not really a firm agreement or denial. Yes, she does a lot of work for her friends, or for those who she thinks need it. Yes, sometimes she gets tired or worn down. But the same could be said of most people who like to help others, couldn't it? There's a degree of tirelessness that comes from aiding those in need. And here, at least, it's actually much less work than she's used to. She's missing half of her party, her city patrols are far more relaxed, and cleaning the house or the smithy gives her something to do. She still has time to train, tend to her equipment, and fish. It's far from a bad life.]

I think you're missing something, though. It isn't a burden, taking on extra work for those I care about. And this isn't meant to be a vacation, either. We may be dreaming versions of our old selves, but the lives we lead here are no less real, right? So we need to take care of this place, and each other.

[ It is never a burden to care for those one cherishes, and on this, he can agree. Although he doesn't believe he has been negligent in tending to the smithy-- it is his business-- it occurs to him that, perhaps, he hasn't been doing enough. Time away from shopkeeping (and the intense work that is cleaning a forge and workshop) means more time she can spend on... anything else of her choosing, be it hobbies or quests.

But it seems she extends her duty to protect to this world, too-- choosing to risk her own safety and health for others she hardly knows in a world that has given her nothing but risks in return, from dragons to nightmare's corruption.

Once more he stands in quiet awe of her, although it shows as only a slightly slackened, less grim countenance. He states, simply: ] Those are words of one who leads without effort.

[ A pause, and when his speaks again, it's upon a breath. ] You are noble.

Noble...

[There's a slice of irony to that comment. How different this conversation is from the one they'd shared at the wedding, where there may as well have been a chasm stretched out between them. The context is not the same, of course, and thus neither is the meaning. Still... the irony remains. She does like this much better. Walking arm in arm with him, at his side, like equals who might even enjoy one another's company. She is not a noble, but she is noble. It's almost sweet of him, and what strikes a chord more is how sincere he seems as he says it. She doubts he would have lied to placate her - he's never indicated himself to be that type - but he could have said it plainly, without emotion, like acknowledging a fact. Instead, he'd...

...well, she's not sure what to make of this. Since this meeting had begun, he'd puzzled her left and right. It is well worth recognizing his effort, though, so:]

Coming from you, that means a lot.

[In more ways than one.]

[ There are noblemen who are not so noble, and there are those not high-born who are. Honor isn't something passed down by blood, it is a seed that can be within anyone, and it is up to them to protect and cultivate it, so that it blooms when they grow. And Kisara's...the honor that she has is magnificent, a flourishing tree at the height of summer, undaunted by drought.

It seems he's said something right, here, because her expression changes, and Somnus' gaze follows the subtle shift, lowering upon her face. There, the corners of her mouth have curved upward into a small smile, and his focus lingers.

There are suddenly a great many things he wishes to do at this moment: to reach up to her, to cup the side of her face, to brush the strand of hair away from her cheek, to feel her skin beneath the pad of his thumb, to behold the softness of that smile further (and to wonder if it is soft to feel)... To preserve it, to give her no other reason to frown, and if that's not possible, to make it so she only has more opportunities to smile.

He tears his gaze from her lips, and although he turns his head forward, stalwart, another color accents the highest part of a cheekbone. Against the pallor of his skin, it's only a dust of rose, but by dreamotion alone, his aura is no longer as cold as it had been before. ]

It is true... and laudable.

[Something about the way his gaze drifts just then makes her pause; the soft colour across his pale cheeks makes her blink. Is he... embarrassed? To be complimenting her? It makes her wonder. If he's getting flustered by it, why does he continue? Surely her previous concerns didn't make him fret that much. Unless she's misjudged him, which... admittedly, would not be the first time. That doesn't explain why he keeps doing that- that thing with his eyes. Observing. It's starting to get her flustered beneath his idle scrutiny. She doesn't know what his intention is here, and it's making her a little nervous. But also, anticipating? She doesn't really know how to handle this. Should she tease? She wants to gauge his seriousness. Somnus doesn't joke, but the implications...]

...You're very generous with your words today. Now you have me wondering if I actually did something good, with all my meddling.

[Here she'd been worrying she was fussing too much. Maybe he likes it?]

[ As he's said, she can do no wrong, and her care for others is but one trait that makes her admirable. It would be difficult to put into words how undeserving he is of it, but he is grateful to be merely in her orbit. Moreover, as she has said, it is her choice to whom she bestows that care. He can do naught but accept, even if it feels as if he's burned by it.

Whether he can withstand that radiance for long is another question. Perhaps years within the Ring, followed by a decade corrupted by darkness, has left him both shirking and longing for light such as this. Somehow, he persists in merely walking beside her. ]

Not all have a heart as grand as yours. [ He replies, his tone thoughtful and soft, wavering with a touch of vulnerability. ] More and more, Kisara... I find myself marveling at it.

[She looks at him quickly, almost startled by that comment. He'd been slowly escalating the compliments, confusing her more and more, but that one exceeds all expectations. This may be a dream world, but honestly, just pinch her. This feels more dreamlike than ever before. She's used to him speaking plainly! But there's a flowery, absent way in which is speaks now, and- marveling, he says. That isn't a word to be used lightly, at least - it feels like - coming from him.]

Somnus, are you... [...okay, she wants to ask again, but it had gotten her nowhere before. She swallows hard, attempting to stamp down her rising nerves, and amends,] Just what are you trying to say?

[He usually speaks with such purpose, leading somewhere. She doesn't know how to receive all these unprompted compliments when she doesn't know where he's going with it. It isn't doing anything to alleviate her worries for him, that's for sure.]

[ She looks at him again, and by coincidence, he does the same, with the lock of their gaze causing him to stop still in his tracks. How she shines in his eyes. It is a radiance that he cannot-- should not-- touch. Penitent be the heart, for it is woefully presumptuous of him to wonder if any of what he says would be accepted-- or would not destroy what working relationship they currently have. She deserves far more than the selfish confession of a king long dead. She deserves someone as good as her, someone who can stand with her in both life and light.

But when she looks at him like that, barriers crumble as if they had never been there, one after the other. Mercy, for which he had asked earlier, is cruel like this, but oh so divine. The balm of her smile, the warmth of her touch, and the patience with which she regards him, cause him to stay rather than leave. How thoroughly she has him.

All this manifests as conflict within the sea of his eyes, but at last something gives. Somnus unlinks her arm from her. ] The sun captivates all as it sets. [ If this is to be it, if he is to speak and give the truth as she asked, to risk all, but never see her again... then he at least wants to do this:

His hand rises to the side of her face, slow to allow her the space to pull away, if she wishes. His palm makes no direct contact but instead hovers near as if loveliness of her makes her untouchable. Still, he dares to feel-- and with his long fingers extending, it's but a whisper of a touch, a thumb brushing that single strand of hair from the side of her face to behind her ear. ]

But here stands a woman before me, [ Remorse already saturates his tone, as if he's already done a great wrong. More prominent than this is the breathlessness in his tone, hushed with both care and reverence, admiration, longing. ] far more stunning and strong than any of its rays, [ His fingers linger near her ear, tracing over the upper curve. ] for the warmth and light she gives never yields to night.

[ A knuckle inadvertently knocks against her long earring, causing it to sway, and he draws his hand away. ] To you, I fall.

[She is still as a frozen statue as he speaks, one slow line at a time, as he withdraws, as he touches her face (touches! her! face!) and tucks her hair back. As he pulls back. As he says- that.

Oh.

Oh.

She takes a step back, to lift both hands to her mouth. Her heart is pounding in her chest, something she hadn't realized before now, like she'd been on the edge of a quiet panic and had been waiting, waiting for him to explain himself so she could let it go. "I fall"? I fall? It's... absurd, frankly. She knows who he is. He knows who she is. Was he in denial when he said all of that nonsense at the wedding, or had it taken her lashing back for him to realize it was viable, or that he was having those feelings for her? Was he acting intentionally cruel as a way of pushing her away? Or is she being tested, somehow? She doesn't think he would be so unkind. But this is unfamiliar territory for her. No one has ever- god, no one has ever. She has no idea what to do.]

...I... [She sounds positively squeakish. Mortifying. She swallows, takes a breath, and tries again. Better-] I don't... know what to say.

[Truthful. And meant to buy her time. He's a handsome man, and he has flickers of kindness and courtesy that might tempt any woman. A gentleman, as he'd demonstrated on the walk to this place. His gift to her was... extravagant, but he apparently didn't realize that. He's sensible. But he also does not strike her as someone ready for a romantic relationship, despite apparently being thousands of years old. Or perhaps because of that. Maybe under different circumstances, with a little growth, she might-

...No. This feels very... ill-timed.]

[ A positive, receptive sign after someone confesses would be… relief, joy, another smile, perhaps, or simply flattered. Instead she appears mortified, and that is as clear sign as any.

As he suspected, he should not have told her this truth, and with this, he has disrespected her further. …Or would it have been disrespectful not to tell the truth, when she asked yet again? Regardless, it is done, and this is the result. How foolish he had been to indulge in the idea of them, if only for a few seconds, when he had been cautious for so long.

What discomfort and distress he has brought upon her, plain for any to see. It is this that he regrets the most, yet another harm he cannot undo.

She needn’t give him an answer— maybe there is a reason, a stall, perhaps, to be kind in a rejection. Or maybe there is someone else who has already claimed her heart. Whatever the reason, they are hers and hers alone.

This… is enough. It will be enough, because what could have been, could not have been. It is already enough, because he has had this opportunity to know her— to see her, to witness the radiance of her smile, the might of her determination, and the strength of her convictions. It is more than enough, because she is no less beautiful; and, if the truest of her smiles is not for him, then he can only wish she show them to another.

(And if he forever cherishes the brush of his fingers against her cheek and the lock of her hair… well, she needn’t know that.)

Quietly, ] You needn’t answer, if you do not wish.

That's... unfair. [To him. She lowers her hands, slowly.] You do deserve an answer. I'm not unhappy or anything... to some extent I'm honoured. [But why her?] I'm mostly surprised. You never gave this impression before...

[Even as she says it, this feels somewhat suspicious. Is that just her being too wary? (Of what? Him? This world, full of dreams and magic and strange emotional changes driving people to think or act?) Maybe her self-esteem is just that bad. Why wouldn't he fall for her, right? She's a fine woman.

...Not Somnus, though. Not so suddenly, with how firmly his priorities lie elsewhere.]

Actually, I... I think I won't answer. Leave it with me for a little while. If you still feel this way later, you can ask me again.

[Cowardly? Maybe. But it's an offered way out. The more she thinks about it, the more she thinks this isn't like him at all. So either she's misjudged him and she can let him down gently when he brings it up again - but with a proper explanation of why, that he hasn't earned it yet - or he doesn't bring it up and she'll know he wasn't in his right mind. Either way, the escape is as much for him as it is for her.

Or maybe he'll message her later and tell her it was all nonsense, and she can deal with it then. Who knows. Regardless, it feels wrong to reject him right now if there's something messing with him.]

[ He never gave that impression, and if it had been within his power, he wouldn’t have said anything at all. Now look at the mess he’s made. Flattered, she says, when he’s able to see the exit she provides. Truly, she is gracious to the end.

The heart hurts, crumbling instead of bleeding, but the feeling is… still precious. Love is precious.

But this is for the best, and understandable. Too lovely, too good, …she is wonderful, and he cannot compare. Still, she shouldn’t have to dance around him, and he wonders if he’s done anything to warrant her delicacy.

Regret is an unpleasant, twisting feeling, only made worse by his usual penchant to always move forward. An apology dances upon his tongue for all the offense this has wrought, when he wants nothing more than her to be content. Somnus presses his lips into a line for a few moments, settling his thoughts. At the very least, he intends to not make things worse: ]

…In confessing, I have erred. [ Somnus lowers his gaze with a dip of his head, respectful and poised. He attempts to curtail the emotion within his tone. It is affection mixed with remorse, sincerity.

When he lifts his head, his eyes seek hers one last time— not looking for an answer, but simply to behold her one last time— and he steps away. ]

Be well, Kisara.

[She can sympathize with his discomfort; she can only imagine the courage it takes to admit one's thoughts like this. If it was her, she'd...

...well, that's beside the point. It wasn't her, and she can at least give him a consolating hand, metaphorically speaking. She offers him a sympathetic - and somewhat apologetic - smile, though she knows she has nothing to apologize for. If he's going to go on about her kindness being one of the appeals of her personality, she's not about to prove him wrong by acting coldly. There's no shame in confessing, regardless of the outcome.]

You did nothing wrong, and I don't think less of you for it. Be well, Somnus.

[She ducks her head politely and offers a soft wave, before turning and heading away from him, leaving him to his thoughts. Hopefully he'll sort himself out.]

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open [catch-all, quest 202]

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