hypnagothic | [The City] IC Contact

All that live will also die. Even demons. Steps could be taken, in this life that the child now holds and possibly into the next, should the wheel continue to turn if it is not stopped with this iteration. If that is their choice.

[ his head rights from its earlier tilted angle, still meeting her gaze if she is still meeting his. ]

Would it be presumptuous to think that you have some specific circumstance in mind with these questions, lady Vanessa?

[ An eternity drifts behind the pale blue in her eyes. It rushes through the boundless torment of existence as though there's anything to find at the end; as if there could be any end at all. But it is endless — it recognize another to a fashion that disquiets Vanessa in a way she isn't conscious of. ]

Presumptuous—

[ She catches herself with a jolt, quickly looking down to her lap and sucking in a hushed breath.

It wouldn't matter, then, if the afterlife is as she believes or as he does. In any reality, she is a damned thing. Vanessa chose her curse, yes. She invited the demons in—continues to. He shouldn't have to tell her.

Oh but how she had wished, for a only a moment, to be convinced otherwise. ]

Morpheus.

[ Musing not to him but to herself, sounding the name out with a low murmur. Her thumb taps against the counter's edge, and she stares at it. Through it, more like. ]

I have read of the name Morpheus.

Have you.

[ a light and even tone, no annoyance or even fluster at the change of subject. ]

And what did you learn of it?

[ She learned that despite supposed acts of cruelty, the Morpheus of myth does not serve Evil, despite the appearance of his acts. Had the woman not known peace in the end? ]

He took the form of a man and broke a woman's heart. [ A beat. ] Not for the sake of malice, but for duty.

[ A glance back up, now, a bit softer with her curiosity. ]

Some people might have called him impartial, even cruel.

Ah. Ovid's tale. I am indeed the Shaper of Form as the story suggests.

[ he finally raises his hand to look at the apple piece, as if to examine it. ]

I, too, am bound by my duties and responsibilities, though the telling of that story has changed much since its first telling.

[ he stills again, pausing, then looks to her while the apple slice remains raised. ]

You spoke of clementines in your invitation, did you not?

[ It's felt like something she's already known for quite some time, as diligently as she has been questioning and listening and watching, but— ...to hear him say it still leaves her stricken. Had she hoped he would say he was a devil? Of course not, but perhaps she had expected only the worst sort of revelation so soon after experiencing hope. That's always how it goes.

It's difficult to swallow against the thickness in her throat, and she glances to the apple slice he holds as though in a trance. What separates a demon from a god? Vanessa had felt certain of the answer only months ago.

Shaking free of the hum in her ears, she blinks herself back into the silence that hangs between Vanessa and his inquiry. ]

It was—

[ Shoulders slumping somewhat, she leans to rest her cheek against her palm with her elbow propped on the counter. Weary eyes stare at him now in soft bemusement. ]

...Something to look forward to. [ An excuse keep him coming back. ] You want them now?

As you are the host of this meeting, I will defer to your judgement.

[ and he finally takes a bite of the apple slice, just a polite size of a nibble off the end of it, chewing thoughtfully. ]

[ It's such an outlandish scene, for here she is, little Vanessa Ives, watching the king of dreams mull over an apple slice just moments after debating the truth of her religion. Had the child she once was dreamt of such a happening? It feels like something she would have, it was like so many of her other childish fantasies, but that girl has been so long buried that Vanessa can scarcely remember such dreams.

Perhaps he may not think all humans are flawed, but she always has been and always will be. It should be unwise to bring out the clementines. So trade wisdom for spite, hadn't she once said? And what should she trade spite for?

The sigh she releases is one of relief, as though the breath she seems to have been holding for minutes now is finally free, releasing her bewilderment and settling for a simple appreciation. Simple but favored. It is what it is. ]

...Here.

[ With a lean over the collection of treats, Vanessa takes some 'fresh' bread and a soft goat cheese, then tears off a tiny piece of the bread to spread the mild cheese onto. After breaking off a piece of apple slice to top it with, she'll turn back toward him to offer.

Vanessa isn't handing it to him this time, half-expecting he'll simply hold onto it for the next five minutes. Instead, she'll stretch a bit to hold it high so he can simply take the small bite from her own hand. It's been made so that he can taste it in one go. The combination of flavors aren't overwhelming; she always found a satisfaction to the union of senses. ]

This may better suit your favor.

[ he quietly watches her as she labors over the preparation, his hand lowering back to rest the side of it on the counter. he also places the rest of the partially-eaten apple slice on the small plate that was surely not there seconds before.

when she extends the new bounty towards him, he does not lean in as she does, his eyes following the offering as it hovers in the air before him. there's the barest pause as if he's aware of something that is expected of him, and there is a brief glance back to Vanessa's face before he focuses on the offering again.

and then he reaches up with the same hand that held the slice earlier, plucking the offered morsel from her fingers with his own rather than taking the bite from her hand. he brings it close to his mouth in clear intention of eating it, though he pauses for his question: ]

Is it my favor that you seek, lady Vanessa?

[ then he places the bite within his mouth in a most elegant manner, his eyes still on her while he does. ]

[ The gall of both refusal and acceptance, once again, amuses rather than offends her. Lips pinch with suppressed smile as she leans back with a little shake of her head. Most of the time, at least, she prefers the peculiar.

But it won't prevent her from teasing, once again with a laugh just under her whisper. ]

Silly man. You shouldn't ask a lady such things.

[ The bit of apple slice that he set down—from a plate that she does very much notice—is promptly snatched up for her to finish off, eyebrow perking without any further answer.

But she will be keeping an eye on the window out of her periphery. It has the perfect placement to appreciate the sky lighting up once the sun does begin to set. ]

[ there's a hint of a smirk at both her reply as well as at her thievery while he finishes chewing daintily. the look of amusement carries through even after his swallowing of the morsel. ]

I am not a man. And you are not offended by such questions.

[ it's a statement, a declaration of knowing and of being, said as innocuously as any of his other statements during their rendezvous, but his confidence in his words make them seem heavy and full of deeper meaning. ]

[ Yes, well— Despite all her jests, she is no lady. ]

Because I rather suspect you are asking a question you already know the answer to.

I can speculate. I do not know for certain.

Hm.

[ No matter what he claims, he isa very silly man.

Tongue-in-cheek, she'll push against the counter to smoothly stand, brushing out her skirts absently before moving toward the refrigerator to fetch a pitcher of lemonade. ]

Maddening, isn't it? To have the answer right there and yet be denied certainty.

[ Not knowing where the glasses are, since she clearly hadn't bothered much with dishes, she'll begin opening the cabinets. ]

Or is that yet another thing that doesn't bother you?

I am also patient.

[ he stays on his stool, but he turns his head to watch her rummage. ]

[ Her brow furrows with a shake of her head and an impressed sigh. ]

Commendable. I'm not sure that I could ever be called patient.

[ People who don't know here well would assume otherwise, as she gives off a very particular impression. She can force it, always on the edge of her toes ready to take and take. Once opportunity strikes... Vanessa can only wish to seize.

If she seems patient now, there's a reason for it. ]

Do you know anything about clementines? About what they can symbolize?

[ With a clink, two glasses are settled onto the back corner so she can fill them. While she wonders by now if he'll even drink, she would be remiss not set a glass down for him just before finding her seat again. ]

Yes. Though I wish to hear what you will choose to emphasize.

[ at least he doesn't refuse the drink outright, making no move to belay the setting of the glass for him. ]

Why?

[ Of course he does, though, and that pleases her enough to smile into her glass.

She'll definitely be enjoying her sip of lemonade, because she can't recall having it like this before, and for a moment she pauses to let the taste of it linger on her tongue with a blink of appreciative surprise. There really is something about citrus. ]

Do you seek my favor?

[ The inquiry is a rhetorical tease, of course she doesn't expect him to answer, but maybe it will keep him silent long enough for her to find her footing again while she enjoys her lemonade. ]

I believe that it what you might wish for.

[ he also takes a sip of his drink. to be polite. ]

[ How smug of him. Let him believe, then; she isn't denying it yet but she's hardly agreeing, either. ]

And you wish for nothing? Or have such wishes already been granted.

I wish to hear your opinion on the clementine.

[ That isn't fair. That's a cheat.

Failing to suppress her smile on the matter, she'll set her glass down beside the coiled apple peel. ]

Why is it important for you to know? I thought you didn't care for the opinions of others.

Only in their opinion of me, as it will do little to change me. And I am ... curious where you are directing our conversation.

[ With a squint and a smirk, Vanessa tips her head in a play show at indignation. He had been the one to turn the conversation toward this sort of favor, hadn't he?

She had been innocently talking about food in a perfectly appropriate manner, whatever is he suggesting? ]

Are you curious very often?

[ She is. She would know of everything if she could; the forgotten things, the things that nobody else will look at. Her curiosity has cursed her more than it's blessed her, but then she wouldn't trade it for anything. ]

Not so often, no.

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