[ He thinks, against his own will, about a time where they had massive pools to lounge about in, where they had endless time to linger, and the promise of countless mornings after. Except - it wasn't. The pools were countless times more superior, of course, but they didn't have forever to lounge. He remembers Hythlodaeus cajoling them both to stay longer, to sleep in later, to linger in the moment instead of driving forward to the next. But there was never the promise of more mornings, and endless time. Viktor draws him back into the present directly after, grazing a kiss against his temple.
If they survive this, ten thousand years from now will he think about these moments the same way? The first time, certain in the perfection of his recollection, only to find the illusion of it gives under any amount of scrutiny.
Maybe, he thinks with the faintest twinge at recalling the old, wretched women who play cards, maybe he will write a book. Capture all of this to the pages and how he remembers it, in exacting detail. Emet-Selch would not put Viktor through reading what would likely be an enormous tome, but the Shadowkeeper owes him a favor and he trusts her to speak plainly where others might not. ]
And if I were? [ He wasn't actively mapping out plans during the process, but there were a few moments where he caught his breath and thought they would both be terribly exhausted if they continued any longer. Then, he'd tossed a healing charm upon both of them and continued.
Against his will, a yawn wrests itself from him, and he dares to slouch a little bit into the warmth of Viktor and the steadiness of the wall, glancing over to the bed with only a little longing. Soon. ] Some lessons can be given in bed. [ Emet-Selch pauses, mulled wine lifted to his mouth, amending himself. ] Magic lessons, mind. I've indulged plenty and despite the unwise decisions made, I do have tasks I must needs attend to at some point.
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If they survive this, ten thousand years from now will he think about these moments the same way? The first time, certain in the perfection of his recollection, only to find the illusion of it gives under any amount of scrutiny.
Maybe, he thinks with the faintest twinge at recalling the old, wretched women who play cards, maybe he will write a book. Capture all of this to the pages and how he remembers it, in exacting detail. Emet-Selch would not put Viktor through reading what would likely be an enormous tome, but the Shadowkeeper owes him a favor and he trusts her to speak plainly where others might not. ]
And if I were? [ He wasn't actively mapping out plans during the process, but there were a few moments where he caught his breath and thought they would both be terribly exhausted if they continued any longer. Then, he'd tossed a healing charm upon both of them and continued.
Against his will, a yawn wrests itself from him, and he dares to slouch a little bit into the warmth of Viktor and the steadiness of the wall, glancing over to the bed with only a little longing. Soon. ] Some lessons can be given in bed. [ Emet-Selch pauses, mulled wine lifted to his mouth, amending himself. ] Magic lessons, mind. I've indulged plenty and despite the unwise decisions made, I do have tasks I must needs attend to at some point.