[ He files that information into place along with Viktor's other requests - ones he doesn't outright address in the moment, but actively tries to enact when and where it is within his power. Long since used to reading from parchment or tomestone while public speaking, the thought doesn't bother him- the avoidance of the idea of studying does, to an extent, but he can push the subject at another time. ]
Only a third.
[ He does recall.
He'd rather he didn't. The difficulty of memory is not one easily solved; they identified and used crystals to store knowledge, but that did not solve the issue of one's own memory failing. Countless new memories overwriting old ones, the most treasured washed away under the weight of those atop. He could store as much as possible within crystals, but it was only a temporary solution.
Foolish, to be irritated at a woman long since dead, and insult to injury to know she is not really the problem. The problem is an intangible one that can't be solved with time, money, magic. ]
Lucilia.
[ He will not make this a fight, or a discussion, or some sort of attempt at a lesson on why their lives are like a candle, just a flicker of time before the next life replaces them. Wilful ignorance about the point Viktor is making is not the course of action. That, he supposes, is progress. Just like sitting here naked in the middle of a bath with company is progress of a sort. Just like the desire to touch and be touched by someone else is progress.
Gently, he fits his fingers around the line of Viktor's ankle, skimming fingers over the thin layer of skin and then further up, and makes an idle path back and forth from knee to ankle. Or, it would be idle were it not for how focused he seems on the motion, dragging his thumb along Viktor's calf to trace muscle, swirling a glancing touch over the bit of knee bared by the water. ]
Thavnair, is it? Awfully warm there. To say nothing of the dragon, with whom I think you must needs confirm my welcome.
[ The bottle ends up in his hand, but he cannot say victory is his clean and simple. Regretfully he tugs the hand tracing Viktor's leg back so he can thumb down the nozzle once, twice, and then after a considering look at Viktor's curls, a third time. Rosemary and something faintly floral are immediately evident, even if the floral notes are overwhelmed by the former. Gingerly, he rises up until he can get his knees beneath himself and reaches out to start working it through Viktor's curls carefully from roots to end, smoothing unruly curls back when they fall into his eyes. While he mislikes the cold in general, so much time in Garlemald means he bears the chill with minimal complaint, far more focused on the task at hand.
In hand. ]
Do not rinse this right away. Sit. Soak. [ Viktor's hair is countless times shorter than hers had been, and so it is not overly difficult to finish quickly, grimacing as his knees protest. Settled again in his spot, he tugs Viktor's leg back into place. Belatedly, not quite hesitant but not a declaration, foggier as he strains for the memory. ] Hers smelled of mint. Imported in frankly absurd quantities. Dried in a room I orchestrated to be next to my office.
[ Because it covered countless smells he would rather not have smelled by someone walking past. He does not point this out. ]
no subject
Only a third.
[ He does recall.
He'd rather he didn't. The difficulty of memory is not one easily solved; they identified and used crystals to store knowledge, but that did not solve the issue of one's own memory failing. Countless new memories overwriting old ones, the most treasured washed away under the weight of those atop. He could store as much as possible within crystals, but it was only a temporary solution.
Foolish, to be irritated at a woman long since dead, and insult to injury to know she is not really the problem. The problem is an intangible one that can't be solved with time, money, magic. ]
Lucilia.
[ He will not make this a fight, or a discussion, or some sort of attempt at a lesson on why their lives are like a candle, just a flicker of time before the next life replaces them. Wilful ignorance about the point Viktor is making is not the course of action. That, he supposes, is progress. Just like sitting here naked in the middle of a bath with company is progress of a sort. Just like the desire to touch and be touched by someone else is progress.
Gently, he fits his fingers around the line of Viktor's ankle, skimming fingers over the thin layer of skin and then further up, and makes an idle path back and forth from knee to ankle. Or, it would be idle were it not for how focused he seems on the motion, dragging his thumb along Viktor's calf to trace muscle, swirling a glancing touch over the bit of knee bared by the water. ]
Thavnair, is it? Awfully warm there. To say nothing of the dragon, with whom I think you must needs confirm my welcome.
[ The bottle ends up in his hand, but he cannot say victory is his clean and simple. Regretfully he tugs the hand tracing Viktor's leg back so he can thumb down the nozzle once, twice, and then after a considering look at Viktor's curls, a third time. Rosemary and something faintly floral are immediately evident, even if the floral notes are overwhelmed by the former. Gingerly, he rises up until he can get his knees beneath himself and reaches out to start working it through Viktor's curls carefully from roots to end, smoothing unruly curls back when they fall into his eyes. While he mislikes the cold in general, so much time in Garlemald means he bears the chill with minimal complaint, far more focused on the task at hand.
In hand. ]
Do not rinse this right away. Sit. Soak. [ Viktor's hair is countless times shorter than hers had been, and so it is not overly difficult to finish quickly, grimacing as his knees protest. Settled again in his spot, he tugs Viktor's leg back into place. Belatedly, not quite hesitant but not a declaration, foggier as he strains for the memory. ] Hers smelled of mint. Imported in frankly absurd quantities. Dried in a room I orchestrated to be next to my office.
[ Because it covered countless smells he would rather not have smelled by someone walking past. He does not point this out. ]