[ That Emet-Selch has ever opted for honesty with him is a blessing. Even at the best of times, he is inscrutable, too well practiced in hiding his reactions, and probably too dog tired to feel much of anything at all. Layer upon layer, making a mystery of what lies beneath. Except-
Except Viktor's learning, finding subtler cues in shifts of attention, in pauses and absences, in minute changes to the set of his brow and those lantern eyes. And most tellingly, in the veil set between them, emotion muffled like a conversation the next room over - too faint to be clear, but felt, none the less.
Emet-Selch looks at him. Emet-Selch often looks at him. But this time, there is such light in him, in his eyes. Viktor cannot help but think of a house, sat abandoned, having its hearth lit and tended for the first time in ages, made into a home. A second later, Viktor realizes - really realizes - that he, himself, is the cause. His suppositions, his theories, not just politely considered before moving on, but perking bright interest. He is not sure what to do about that, except smile, and so he does, a sweet, unselfconscious grin. ]
I'll keep my fussing over you mostly to m-myself, then.
[ It is not lost on him, either, that Emet-Selch has chosen a more peaceful tack. Not merely sparing these children, but engaging them with the intent to help. Viktor's heart does something very silly, but it does not surprise him this time when it does.
He smiles down into his stew as he finishes eating, enjoying the way the warmth still lingers on his skin, even after Emet-Selch has taken his hand back. When he finally glances up from his plate, it is with unhidden fondness. ]
A few days to study the veil, a visit to the Sea, and then we found your first school of arcane science, mm?
[ Viktor pushes himself away from the table, clears the dishes with a lazy flick of his fingers, then claps his hands together. A proper adventure, finally. Excitement sets his eyes to sparkling. ]
It's about time we got up to something f-fun. Shall we have a proper sneak, or will you be using magic to f-facilitate?
no subject
Except Viktor's learning, finding subtler cues in shifts of attention, in pauses and absences, in minute changes to the set of his brow and those lantern eyes. And most tellingly, in the veil set between them, emotion muffled like a conversation the next room over - too faint to be clear, but felt, none the less.
Emet-Selch looks at him. Emet-Selch often looks at him. But this time, there is such light in him, in his eyes. Viktor cannot help but think of a house, sat abandoned, having its hearth lit and tended for the first time in ages, made into a home. A second later, Viktor realizes - really realizes - that he, himself, is the cause. His suppositions, his theories, not just politely considered before moving on, but perking bright interest.
He is not sure what to do about that, except smile, and so he does, a sweet, unselfconscious grin. ]
I'll keep my fussing over you mostly to m-myself, then.
[ It is not lost on him, either, that Emet-Selch has chosen a more peaceful tack. Not merely sparing these children, but engaging them with the intent to help. Viktor's heart does something very silly, but it does not surprise him this time when it does.
He smiles down into his stew as he finishes eating, enjoying the way the warmth still lingers on his skin, even after Emet-Selch has taken his hand back. When he finally glances up from his plate, it is with unhidden fondness. ]
A few days to study the veil, a visit to the Sea, and then we found your first school of arcane science, mm?
[ Viktor pushes himself away from the table, clears the dishes with a lazy flick of his fingers, then claps his hands together. A proper adventure, finally. Excitement sets his eyes to sparkling. ]
It's about time we got up to something f-fun. Shall we have a proper sneak, or will you be using magic to f-facilitate?