[ He is not responsible, but would still allow this sliver of himself to linger, out of...what, guilt? Duty? Emet-Selch cannot quite blame him; it was not a surprise that once again, this shard had carved out a place as a hero. ]
They are useful skills, especially given their situation.
[ What else is he to say? He's made the offer and half-thinks that there's no way he will be taken up on it. Viktor has people to see. Chores to do. Emet-Selch has suggested the unthinkable casually enough the mention nearly started a fight. Now, he's suggested something else that is entirely different and unthinkable, and there's no response. Foolish. He ought to have known.
Weary down to his bones slouches into the warmth of the water and stretches out, toes barely grazing the stone edge of the tub. If he thought the floors at the Crystarium would hold, he would create and install something half as large. And then, a knock. Emet-Selch rolls his eyes to the ceiling, fully intent on ignoring it until he hears Viktor's voice and abruptly the half-hearted offer is no longer a failed attempt and he must contend with seeing the offer through. It will not be, he thinks, such a hardship, even if the idea of going from countless layers between them to exactly none makes his stomach hot and tight in a way that isn't quite discomfort. Folding both arms on the stone lip and propping his chin atop them, he calls, ]
Only if you make haste before the bath loses most of its heat. If you've a preference on bathing supplies, you ought to bring those, as well.
[ The drain he tugs clean to start emptying the cooling, used water, and the bronze spigot creaks as it's turned back on with a nudge to spit steaming water to replenish what he's draining.
Then, he sits, feeling horrifically bare, and after a beat of hesitation and feeling ridiculous for nudging enough salts into the water to obscure the contents at least a little. ]
no subject
They are useful skills, especially given their situation.
[ What else is he to say? He's made the offer and half-thinks that there's no way he will be taken up on it. Viktor has people to see. Chores to do. Emet-Selch has suggested the unthinkable casually enough the mention nearly started a fight. Now, he's suggested something else that is entirely different and unthinkable, and there's no response. Foolish. He ought to have known.
Weary down to his bones slouches into the warmth of the water and stretches out, toes barely grazing the stone edge of the tub. If he thought the floors at the Crystarium would hold, he would create and install something half as large. And then, a knock. Emet-Selch rolls his eyes to the ceiling, fully intent on ignoring it until he hears Viktor's voice and abruptly the half-hearted offer is no longer a failed attempt and he must contend with seeing the offer through. It will not be, he thinks, such a hardship, even if the idea of going from countless layers between them to exactly none makes his stomach hot and tight in a way that isn't quite discomfort. Folding both arms on the stone lip and propping his chin atop them, he calls, ]
Only if you make haste before the bath loses most of its heat. If you've a preference on bathing supplies, you ought to bring those, as well.
[ The drain he tugs clean to start emptying the cooling, used water, and the bronze spigot creaks as it's turned back on with a nudge to spit steaming water to replenish what he's draining.
Then, he sits, feeling horrifically bare, and after a beat of hesitation and feeling ridiculous for nudging enough salts into the water to obscure the contents at least a little. ]