[The City] IC Contact

[hypnagothic]

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[matermali]

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. ]

[hypnagothic]

I believe that it what you might wish for.

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

[matermali]

[ 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.

[hypnagothic]

I wish to hear your opinion on the clementine.

[matermali]

[ 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.

[hypnagothic]

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

[matermali]

[ 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. ]

[hypnagothic]

Not so often, no.

[matermali]

[ As much of a compliment as he can manage, she suspects, but it isn't an unusual response. Peculiar Miss Ives. Strange, vulgar girl. She has drawn many curiosities, and few of them kind. The friends who have been kind in their 'curiosities', they too could be considered cruel in their own ways, but she loved them all the more for knowing both kindness and cruelty. So long as they didn't hurt her.

Whether he is being kind or cruel, with what seems to be his manner of teasing, she can sense no malice in it. That's enough to at least allow some trust. Had he not earned more with all he's already done for her?

After a moment's pause, she'll turn to reach across the counter for an utterly nondescript paper bag on the corner. ]

They weren't something of particular note to me as a child, but my mother would tell me about the power of clementines. She said that they had a different taste when eaten with the wrong people. Worst of all when alone.

[ A foot hooks back behind the bottom rung of the stool while she pulls a clementine out of the bag. It's so delicate, small even in her tiny hand. Pulling it close, she'll pause to close her eyes and take in the scent of it. Sharp. Almost invigorating. Somehow, it smells as though it was picked just that morning. ]

It's an affectionate sort of act, to peel the clementine for another—its own show of intimacy without needing words. [ Pulling it into her lap, she gazes down while running her thumb across the skin. ] You take that bitter shell away for them, you see. You make certain that they know only the sweetness within.

[hypnagothic]

... You speak of companionship.

[matermali]

[ Silence is answer enough, though it doesn't linger for long before she lifts the bright orange fruit to roll gently onto the top of the counter. It wobbles into a niche between a loaf of bread and a few plums.

Resting her arms across the counter's edge, she'll offer a little shrug and an almost sheepish smile. ]

I have never actually had them before now.

[ She simply hadn't seen them, and she hadn't gone looking; life in London rarely allowed the pleasure to even remember those sorts of stories. ]

[hypnagothic]

[ his gaze follows the fruit as it rolls, his head turning slightly away from her to linger on it stopped position. ]

Companions? Or clementines?

[matermali]

[ Now, she isn't quite as pitiful as that, and she is very thankful for the few companions that she has had. ]

Clementines.

[ She's back to watching the window. ]

I found them here the other day, and I thought I would like to try them while watching the sunset.

[hypnagothic]

[ he looks back to her. ]

Why during the sunset?

[matermali]

[ A little smile, but it's for herself and the slow blend of colors forming in the distance. ]

They ought to be enjoyed while looking at something beautiful.

[hypnagothic]

A wise choice, lady.

[matermali]

[ Hilarious, by indication of her glance. ]

Few would call me wise. Perhaps reckless.

[hypnagothic]

Perhaps you have those rare moments then.

[matermali]

For the sake of beauty? I suppose anyone should.

[ Tipping to lean onto her elbows, she'll look down to a coiled ribbon of red and white. ]

And so, you have your answer. Will you now tell me why you were so curious?

[ Because she is embarrassed now, thank you very much. ]

[hypnagothic]

[ he delays his answer a bit by taking another sip of the lemonade, and the answer, when it does come, is nonchalant. ]

You sought my attention with it.

[matermali]

[ A shake of her head, but still smiling; the one only for herself that is always a just little bit sad. ]

...You make me sound so pitiful.

[ Isn't she? Perhaps he is impartial. ]

Am I to enjoy the clementine alone, then?

[hypnagothic]

Pitiful ... No. But you had invited me.

[ he finally makes a motion of his own, leaning in a bit to reach for the clementine that rolled away. he picks it up gingerly with his fingertips, turning his hand to cradle it in its palm as if it were a thing more delicate than it actually is. he brings it back over to Vanessa, placing it back on the counter before her as carefully as if he were handling eggshells. his hand then withdraws, resting on the counter before him as he glances back up to her. ]

And I came.

[matermali]

[ She watches his movements, how small they usually are but very deliberate with the meaning they carry. This movement isn't so small, she doesn't need a sharp eye to catch it, but she watches with as much care as if he were barely tilting his head. No, not so small. It means everything to her, but he must understand some measure of that. Out of pity? She would tell him to leave and never come back, but no he says. For what little he does say, it's easy to believe his words.

After only a moment looking down at the little fruit, she'll pick it up to run her thumb across the waxy feel, then smile just a little brighter as her thumbnail pierces the flesh. Even just from that little tear, the scent bursts free as if she could have stepped near an orchard. The scent bites and it's beautiful.

She'll peel the fruit with care, less used to the citrus fruits, but the skin comes away with little fuss.

So much for her excuse to bring him back on the morrow, but of course she would give into temptation when it's dangled on a string. All of her things are here at the moment, with her bag pushed into the far corner, given this is her latest camping spot. Of course the clementines would be at the ready, but somehow she hadn't thought he would ask.

While anticipation can be painful, she does enjoy surprises. ]

I find you quite curious, as well. Are you often invited away from your duties?

[hypnagothic]

[ he quietly watches her with the fruit as if they were sharing some ceremony together—a breaking of bread or a presentation of tea. something of equal meaning. he glances back to her face at the question. ]

Not so often, as my responsibilities are many. Some invitations are a matter of duty as well, politically speaking. Here, though, they have been taken from me by the very act of bringing me to this place.

[matermali]

[ Her lips press together tight when considering the true implication of what it means for a great being like the god of dreams to be trapped in such a bland shell of a cage. To be trapped at all, and then further weakened... It has happened to her before. It has happened more than once. But to him? He was a god.

She was nothing more than a blade of grass.

There's a slight burst of juice from under her thumb when she drags it between the thick peel and delicate fruit, her nail scraping just a bit too deeply before tugging and peeling. ]

I don't dare imagine how wretched it must feel to have a power like yours controlled by another... Does it anger you? To be caged like an animal by fools who ought to be submitting to your nightmares?

[ If not, Vanessa has carried enough rage for the both of them. For the whole of the City, it radiates from her shadow. ]