[ In the past, when he lounged in a bath to stay away from anyone and everyone, he had music playing on an orchestrion. While he very much enjoyed being alone and not having to deal with anyone's petty grievances, the silence he found less welcome and so he filled it. It isn't until that moment he realizes he hasn't needed one since Viktor planted himself neatly into Emet-Selch's life, his quarters.
He likes how noisy Viktor is when he does nothing more than exist. The absolute opposite of death, embodying light and life and what they were striving to maintain and save. Emet-Selch presses his face into the warm stretch of skin from shoulder to jawline, inhales long and slow and then tips his head in accommodation when Viktor's fingers coax him to move. ]
I find that being myself is - unfamiliar. [ Not an excuse, but a quiet admission, his brows drawing tight before he seems to shake the frustration off as best as he can, instead studying the splash of freckles, the way waterdroplets cling, the dim lighting playing across his skin. He has ever been his duty, but once, he thinks he had known how to maintain duty and sense of self, even if that sense of self had been inextricably twined up in Hythlodaeus and Aepymetes. To their detriment, perhaps. Inhaling, he holds the breath for an instant and then releases, lifting a damp hand to smooth through Viktor's curls. Thoughtlessly, he speaks, turned toward the supplies Viktor had brought in to inspect but not before another pull off the wine bottle and handing that to Viktor once he's done. ]
Get yourself wet, I believe you had a request of me, did you not?
no subject
He likes how noisy Viktor is when he does nothing more than exist. The absolute opposite of death, embodying light and life and what they were striving to maintain and save. Emet-Selch presses his face into the warm stretch of skin from shoulder to jawline, inhales long and slow and then tips his head in accommodation when Viktor's fingers coax him to move. ]
I find that being myself is - unfamiliar. [ Not an excuse, but a quiet admission, his brows drawing tight before he seems to shake the frustration off as best as he can, instead studying the splash of freckles, the way waterdroplets cling, the dim lighting playing across his skin. He has ever been his duty, but once, he thinks he had known how to maintain duty and sense of self, even if that sense of self had been inextricably twined up in Hythlodaeus and Aepymetes. To their detriment, perhaps. Inhaling, he holds the breath for an instant and then releases, lifting a damp hand to smooth through Viktor's curls. Thoughtlessly, he speaks, turned toward the supplies Viktor had brought in to inspect but not before another pull off the wine bottle and handing that to Viktor once he's done. ]
Get yourself wet, I believe you had a request of me, did you not?