Tasks? [ One ear quirks back, curiosity weighing a bend into his voice. There is a faint hint of disappointment as well, mostly in knowing he will not be able to sleep until noon. ] Alone tasks?
[ His doe eyes dip to consider the cloudy suds floating on the surface of the water. Strange, that Emet-Selch should have chores to attend to on a reflection he likely has not visited since he was called back from the Sea. Much as he would likely enjoy the planning required, Viktor doubts Emet-Selch is actually secretly plotting the prince's demise -- or at least, not planning to act upon that plot. Yet.
Ascian business, then. Emet-Selch had been evasive earlier, and Viktor cannot quite blame him. Some not-yet-sleeping part of him, the part drenched in violence, trained to aim for the throat when scenting a threat to the star, mislikes the secrecy so sharply it feels like teeth sunk into his mind. But there is no one better suited - no one Viktor would more readily trust - to handle this matter. And he had said as much, promised to leave the matter of awakened Ancient souls to Hades. That fanged alert fizzles beneath the weight of his own certainty. Viktor clears his throat. ]
Call if you've need of me, and I will be there. Otherwise... [ He pauses to sip his tea. It is exactingly perfect. The right steep, the right temperature, the right honey sweetness. Of course. ] I have a grave to visit, flowers to g-gather. [ A faint smile. ] And after, some snooping, aye?
[ Emet-Selch teases a spiral tendril between his fingers, and Viktor thinks to himself that he may go to his grave refusing to admit that expensive soaps had made a different for his hair - but he cannot even work up to a scowl about it. In the span of a heartbeat, Hades goes from smug to something softer. And though Viktor is no stranger to being ogled and admired, even by Emet-Selch, he finds the look on Hades's face makes his own flood with unexpected heat. Though a part of him wants to look away at that question, he cannot help but stare back, wide-eyed, wanting the moon's undivided attention. ]
Not- not in a malicious way.
[ Now, Viktor does look away, searching for words in his teacup. He is quiet for a long time, so long it nearly seems that is all he has to say on the matter. The problem, though, is not a lack of explanation, but a lack of orderly words with which to do the explaining. ]
The first time, I did think it passing strange. But you did not like to be t-touched, and so... I th-thought you were merely saving time, aye? And every time thereafter- [ He stops. A thoughtful scowl settles on Viktor's features, brow set heavily over his eyes, mouth curling into a frown. He looses one hand to dip fingers into the water, making ripples, making movement, trying to find words. When he finally continues, it is slow, careful, as though he isn't sure where his thoughts will take him. ] -it is... easy for me to forget that I am- that others look at me and see a... person sometimes. Not, you know, the Warrior. Who is... an object. So, to my mind, you t-took your baths with me in the room, because... I was little more than a pet dog. A piece of furniture. Something that was simply present. A-and so, why would desire be involved?
no subject
[ His doe eyes dip to consider the cloudy suds floating on the surface of the water. Strange, that Emet-Selch should have chores to attend to on a reflection he likely has not visited since he was called back from the Sea. Much as he would likely enjoy the planning required, Viktor doubts Emet-Selch is actually secretly plotting the prince's demise -- or at least, not planning to act upon that plot. Yet.
Ascian business, then. Emet-Selch had been evasive earlier, and Viktor cannot quite blame him. Some not-yet-sleeping part of him, the part drenched in violence, trained to aim for the throat when scenting a threat to the star, mislikes the secrecy so sharply it feels like teeth sunk into his mind. But there is no one better suited - no one Viktor would more readily trust - to handle this matter. And he had said as much, promised to leave the matter of awakened Ancient souls to Hades. That fanged alert fizzles beneath the weight of his own certainty. Viktor clears his throat. ]
Call if you've need of me, and I will be there. Otherwise... [ He pauses to sip his tea. It is exactingly perfect. The right steep, the right temperature, the right honey sweetness. Of course. ] I have a grave to visit, flowers to g-gather. [ A faint smile. ] And after, some snooping, aye?
[ Emet-Selch teases a spiral tendril between his fingers, and Viktor thinks to himself that he may go to his grave refusing to admit that expensive soaps had made a different for his hair - but he cannot even work up to a scowl about it. In the span of a heartbeat, Hades goes from smug to something softer. And though Viktor is no stranger to being ogled and admired, even by Emet-Selch, he finds the look on Hades's face makes his own flood with unexpected heat. Though a part of him wants to look away at that question, he cannot help but stare back, wide-eyed, wanting the moon's undivided attention. ]
Not- not in a malicious way.
[ Now, Viktor does look away, searching for words in his teacup. He is quiet for a long time, so long it nearly seems that is all he has to say on the matter. The problem, though, is not a lack of explanation, but a lack of orderly words with which to do the explaining. ]
The first time, I did think it passing strange. But you did not like to be t-touched, and so... I th-thought you were merely saving time, aye? And every time thereafter- [ He stops. A thoughtful scowl settles on Viktor's features, brow set heavily over his eyes, mouth curling into a frown. He looses one hand to dip fingers into the water, making ripples, making movement, trying to find words. When he finally continues, it is slow, careful, as though he isn't sure where his thoughts will take him. ] -it is... easy for me to forget that I am- that others look at me and see a... person sometimes. Not, you know, the Warrior. Who is... an object. So, to my mind, you t-took your baths with me in the room, because... I was little more than a pet dog. A piece of furniture. Something that was simply present. A-and so, why would desire be involved?