[ Viktor is, admittedly, surprised to find soap and cloth both held out in offering. Welcome, to be sure, but unusual that Emet-Selch should relent without the two of them dancing their way right up to the cliff's edge of an argument. He takes the soap and cloth with expression carefully schooled to neutrality - not even an arch of his brows, and even his ears, blessedly, obey him this time. ]
No. [ Viktor chirrups, soft, as he works up a lather between his hands. He allows a grin to twitch across his features as he elaborates. ] We just work extra hard during those hours we are a-w-wake.
[ Almost too quick to track his movements, he repositions. Knees bent, body up and turned, then deposited back in front of Emet-Selch again, facing him now, though his attention stays mostly on the wash cloth. Emet-Selch's soaps are rich, decadent things, full of deep, delicate scent, made unignorable when worked up into a foam like this.
It reminds Viktor of their morning lessons, of Crystarium meetings where they'd find themselves sat together, of those brief moments, ages ago, when a much less kind Emet-Selch would nevertheless permit a much more foolish Viktor to get close enough to ask a question. Always subtle, then. Placed directly under his nose, now, it's shocking just how many memories the scent evokes. Not all of them good, certainly, but proof of lives intertwined for far longer than Viktor had realized. ]
Come now, sometimes it is f-fun to make bad choices. You'd've been up in bed trying to r-read all this time, anyway, had we not- [ His voice goes soft. The words that escape him are tentative, fond. ] -gotten ourselves distracted.
[ He glances up, meeting Emet-Selch's eye, and leans in. With a gentle press of fingers to Emet-Selch's jaw, Viktor tips his head back and sets to cleaning, starting at his neck and washing up to his chin with the sort of focused intensity he usually reserves for battle. Were Viktor a painter, he would obsess for ages over the way beads of sudsy water drip lines down Hades's skin. He will settle, instead, for simply watching them fall as he bobs closer to swipe the wash cloth over the back of Emet-Selch's neck. ]
What lesson have you in mind, then, that we cannot steal a bell's extra sleep?
no subject
No. [ Viktor chirrups, soft, as he works up a lather between his hands. He allows a grin to twitch across his features as he elaborates. ] We just work extra hard during those hours we are a-w-wake.
[ Almost too quick to track his movements, he repositions. Knees bent, body up and turned, then deposited back in front of Emet-Selch again, facing him now, though his attention stays mostly on the wash cloth. Emet-Selch's soaps are rich, decadent things, full of deep, delicate scent, made unignorable when worked up into a foam like this.
It reminds Viktor of their morning lessons, of Crystarium meetings where they'd find themselves sat together, of those brief moments, ages ago, when a much less kind Emet-Selch would nevertheless permit a much more foolish Viktor to get close enough to ask a question. Always subtle, then. Placed directly under his nose, now, it's shocking just how many memories the scent evokes. Not all of them good, certainly, but proof of lives intertwined for far longer than Viktor had realized. ]
Come now, sometimes it is f-fun to make bad choices. You'd've been up in bed trying to r-read all this time, anyway, had we not- [ His voice goes soft. The words that escape him are tentative, fond. ] -gotten ourselves distracted.
[ He glances up, meeting Emet-Selch's eye, and leans in. With a gentle press of fingers to Emet-Selch's jaw, Viktor tips his head back and sets to cleaning, starting at his neck and washing up to his chin with the sort of focused intensity he usually reserves for battle. Were Viktor a painter, he would obsess for ages over the way beads of sudsy water drip lines down Hades's skin. He will settle, instead, for simply watching them fall as he bobs closer to swipe the wash cloth over the back of Emet-Selch's neck. ]
What lesson have you in mind, then, that we cannot steal a bell's extra sleep?