[ It's a good thing that she's familiar with what they're doing because Loki thinks he could just as easily get entirely lost in this. This feeling like something within him was just doubled on itself, as though a thin gold line of power that runs through his soul found another that was almost exactly the same and wrapped itself around, entangled with it.
Loki is aware of her hands on his, her forehead against his own, the closeness of her lips, the warmth of her breath across his face. He's aware of the magic of the Fade running through both of them, inhales, exhales, pulls it closer. Warm and weird and shimmering but not wholly unfamiliar, not after six months of desperately trying to regain all his lost magic. The Fade feels... not alive, not exactly, but responsive to what they're doing. Aware.
He doesn't know the words for it, the alignment that Sylvie manages, the internal click of the moment when it seems as though the dam breaks. But he feels it, much like he both hears and feels her small breath in as it happens.
The light of the flowers inside the carriage increases, brightening at the periphery of his shut eyes, so he opens them just to find Sylvie there, eyes still shut, foreheads still touching albeit only ever so slightly. Loki tilts his head down a bit, brushing the tip of his nose against hers. It's a request for permission, though not aloud; anyone else and he probably would have just gone through with kissing them, but...
[ She almost lets it happen too, that thrum of magic so utterly intoxicating after weeks now without even a whisper of it. It makes her heart beat hard in her chest, only to feel it stutter when he moves and she can taste the sweetness of those pastries on his breath, his nose brushing hers. Sylvie tilts her chin up, her lips brushing his ever so softly, the contact electric.
Before they can go much further though the carriage hits a bump and their foreheads clonk together painfully as they're jostled completely to one side. That connection is broken as she's tossed almost into his lap, one hand pressing to her face as she squawks in pain and annoyance. ]
[ The problem with having a recently broken nose is that the moment there's any force applied to the tissues that are already swollen and repairing it hurts like a bitch. Which means that Loki's hands go two places; one, to settle at Sylvie's waist so that she doesn't tumble any further, and the second to his nose, which hurts so bad he just tilts his head back while cursing under his breath, bag of pastries now in the place where Sylvie was sitting.
There an apology yelled their way from the driver of the carriage, which Loki ignores in favor of suddenly laughing. The magic dissipated in a shower of green and gold sparks, the last fragments of which still cling to the inner corners of the carriage car, but he felt it, and it was... ]
That was fucking amazing, [ he tells her once the pain in his face has subsided to a point that he can actually speak without wanting to shriek. ] Not the falling part but the rest of it. [ It doesn't dismay him that she's currently in his lap, but he's willing to bet she won't stay there for long; before he can think about it for too long, though, his face begins to throb again. ] Ach, [ he tilts his head upwards. ] Why are humans so fucking breakable?
[ His reaction to having his nose bumped distracts her from everything else, even the way she's half sprawled in his lap, one of his hands on her waist. Sylvie just shifts, knees on either side of his hips as she just barely doesn't touch his face, wincing at his pain as if she could feel it through that now broken connection. ]
Are you alright--
[ And then he starts laughing and the magic pops into a million sparks of gold and green and the relief she feels that he's clearly ok makes her join in; a smattering of quiet chuckles that fade when he winces again and tilts back his head. She carefully smooths his hair back, pulling a face that's half amused, half concerned, her heart still flitting in her chest from the touch of magic...and his lips. ]
They do everything intensely and quickly, pain, life, and feeling. Quite annoying.
Their art is amazing, though, which I suppose is for likely the same reason. If you only have a handful of decades with which to leave a mark on the world you're in...
[ Her laughter was beautiful, he thinks, eyes going fond as she cards fingers through his hair. That kiss, as brief as it was? Also beautiful. Magical, even, and he smiles at the thought.
Sylvie hasn't stirred from his lap like he'd expected her to and he feels like it is too much to hope she'll remain, and yet. His hand is not moving until she does. Loki's breath comes out in soft pants, breathing through his mouth since his nose is still so sore. ]
It is very annoying, though.
[ He glances past her towards the window. They're almost at the lift for carriages to bypass the impossible stairs in Kirkwall's Hightown. ]
[ You are incredibly endearing yourself Loki, is what she wants to say, my favorite work of art. His hand is so hot through her clothing, and for a minute she just watches the way his lips part and move as he breathes through the pain.
Then he's looking out the window and talking and she probably should move- Lest she embarrass him socially somehow- and bites her bottom lip as she slides backwards across the bench back to her side. She almost sits on the bag of pastries, turning and tucking the back onto her lap instead. ]
So tell me, Mister full-of-questions, what is your favorite part of this world.
[ She reaches into the bag of pastries and pulls one at random, holding it out for him. ]
[ As she pulls away, biting her lip (unfair, his brain screams at him, the desire to kiss so strong that he takes in a sharp breath to calm it), his hand remains at her hip until the last possible moment, fingertips brushing against the fabric of her pants as she sits across from him. ]
That's true, [ he says, possibly too many moments after her statement. But she's holding out a pastry to him, something fragrant and smelling of butter and roses, and he leans forward to take a bite of it without taking the foodstuffs from her hand, like a normal person surely. ]
Mm. [ Excuse him, he's eating, just give him a moment... ] I don't know, actually. [ There's a crumb in the corner of his mouth he can feel but can't see, and he tries to lick it away to no avail. Oh well. ]
I like the people. Mostly other Rifters, if I'm being honest. Though, Wycome was fascinating, and Val Royeaux is rather pretty, architecturally and aesthetically, but there's some places outside of cities that are just... they're calm, and beautiful. I suppose I like them the best, of all the places.
[ It absolutely occurs to her in that small logical part of her mind that is always thinking ahead, weighing risks and reward and keeping track of how much time she has left (an anxiety that no longer has purpose really, as there is no deadline anymore. No need to move, and yet still she finds herself reaching for that non-existent tempad in moments of panic borne of a millenia on the run), as she watches the way he leans forward and takes a bite of the pastry, the food at the corner of his mouth, the way he tries to clear it; if that pull is this strong to take his face in her hands and kiss him until nothing else matters while in the relative public of this carriage, going into his apartment to bathe, alone, with him was probably a terrible idea.
A terrible idea due to his entanglements and her strange hesitation to solidify something when he had only part of the story of course, not because she thinks that if something happened that it would be terrible. No, it'd probably be the exact opposite, but something she really shouldn't be thinking about.
Sylvie reaches out and thumbs that distracting crumb free, fingertips running along the line of his jaw feather light as she tries to break that train of thought, her face purposely neutral. ]
You seem well traveled for such a short time here, and with the slowness of the modes of transport. I'd like to see those spots some day.
[ The... conflict, perhaps, of her expression and the brief gentleness of her touch to clear away the crumbs at the corner of his mouth cause his stomach to do a few small flips. He wonders what it is she's masking from him, with that; if she's upset about something, or remembering something that she doesn't want him to question her about. He wants to know, not only because he's quite possibly the nosiest man in Thedas who isn't a spy at this rate, but because he wants to convince her that it doesn't matter. Whatever she's afraid of, whatever she's remembering. They have now; that's the important part.
He isn't going anywhere.
So his expression is a little fond, a little bemused. ]
I wanted to prove my usefulness, which meant signing up for various tasks and quests. Also, Kirkwall is very...dour; the Gallows, doubly-so in my opinion. [ He gives a little shrug. ] Horses I'm familiar with; anyway. They don't have pegasi, and the griffons smell terrible. I took a boat to Antiva City.
[ She finishes the pastry Loki started then, smiling a little as she settles back against the seat again as she listens to him recount his likes and dislikes of the place. ]
The Gallows is dour, as soon as I have the funds I intend to move out of it. But Kirkwall can't be all bad. I imagine where we're going is nice and hoity-toity for how long it's taking us to get there.
I could help with that, [ he offers immediately, because it's not like he's paying rent. Besides, between his winnings on the betting pool from the Grand Tourney, the trip to Wycome, and saving the bit of money they get from Riftwatch it's not like he's hurting for coin. ] Ifβ well. I would like to. If you'd be willing to let me.
[ Alternatively, he could buy her, say, furniture or something else expensive. The possibilities are endless. ]
Anyway, ah...the de la Fontaine apartments in Hightown are where we're going, in case you need directions some other day. The architecture is a sight less brutal than the rest of the neighborhood; makes it easy to spot when you're walking.
I don't want to take your charity Loki. Or your girlfriend's money.
[ That definitely was the wrong thing to say, Her tone going a bit icy as she turns to look out the window again. looking for the difference in architecture. It's a bit hypocritical when she's literally taking his food, his ride, and his hot water-- but that's a one time thing.
Whβ it's not her money, [ Loki starts, and then makes a negating gesture with his hand, shaking his head. ] Nevermind. You've stated your preference.
[ He'd said 'if you were willing to let me' and she's obviously not willing to let him, so he has to let it go. Right? Otherwise, they're going to end up arguing over something stupid, or she's going to think that he doesn't believe she's capable of managing for herself, and he just.
He'd rather cut that off at the pass. Like, now-ish. He'd definitely like to help, but as the many gods of many worlds know, as much as he'd like to spoil her immensely, he won't do it if she's going to resent him for it.
Stopping himself from sighing petulantly, Loki leans back a little, gaze now refocused towards the city out of the window. ] There, [ he says, pointing to a building with white brick instead of grey, with curves at the edges instead of sharp corners, with blue moulding and gold filigree. ] We've arrived.
[ The carriage shudders to a stop and the driver hops down to open the door on Sylvie's side. ]
[ She gives him a look over her shoulder, watching him shaking his head, her words succinct. It is hers though isn't it? A few months surely isn't enough to amass such a fortune on his own to afford...this.
And it is something to refer to as this, the building they stop in front of, clearly artful in taste and visibly expensive. So far above the rabble of the lower streets. The driver opens the carriage door and Sylvie steps out onto the street, noting immediately the difference in the air. Significantly cleaner and fresher than the lower levels of the city.
For how little she wanted to take anything from the woman Loki has found here, even through proxy, she has to admit that this place fits him. He still is the image of a prince...she lost that title too long ago for it to matter. ]
[ Loki climbs out on the opposite side of the carriage, grabbing the bag of pastries and sweets, paying the driver when the man comes around, and then pulling a key out from his pocket to unlock the front door for Sylvie. ]
Let me know if you change your mind, [ he says after a moment, before he opens the door.
The foyer beyond it is full of light streaming in from as many windows as the walls could stand; some of them face the ocean and a few face the rest of the city. There's a rounded staircase at the end leading to a second floor, and a door to the left leads to a room of books and chairs. There's a kitchen on the opposite end, but Loki gestures towards the stairs as he follows her inside. ]
[ She doesn't acknowledge it, that reminder, and she's sure her silence on the topic is as clear as any words would be. She could manage herself just fine, and has never had need of the trappings of luxury. Though this place is something to admire, clean and light and well designed, it speaks of old money and wealth. Reminiscent of places she's only seen in ruins or, in the vaguest memories, Asgard. It makes her feel more than a little out of place.
But then Loki is motioning towards the stairs and she steps to the side to let him lead the way. ]
Certainly a step up from the gallows. Did you pick the drapes or...?
No, [ Loki replies, shaking his head a little as he passes her. ] Alexandrie had a friend living here, who returned to the frontlines before I arrived. I haven't touched the stylings, really; I spend most of my coin on clothes, books, and various foodstuffs.
[ He likes Alexandrie's taste in decor, for one thing, and doesn't see why he should spend his money to fix things that aren't exactly broken. But he notes the way that Sylvie looks at it all and sighs, a little. She'd probably be more comfortable in Lowtown, which leads him to wonder if that's where she'll go, once she leaves the Gallows.
(The idea that she'd stay there, surrounded by all those people, doesn't take root. They are too similar for all of that.)
They climb the stairs where there's another series of rooms: a bedroom with an attached bathroom is where they're headed, and so Loki makes a beeline for it. There are some things set out already, bottles of various kinds with labels and written instructions on how to use them (most of which say, simply, add to hot water), heavy towels, a bathrobe, all off to the side atop of a nearby dresser. In the middle of the bathroom is the tub; large and clawfooted.
There's also a privacy screen blocking half of it from view of the door. ]
[ There's a little hmmm in response to that, noting exactly what that proved. She had a feeling this place was one of his benefits of being involved with his variant's wife, and he just confirmed it. There's not much else to say about it though, they were different people. He could live his life however he wanted, even if she disagreed.
Besides, she's not about to complain when she's looking forward to this bath more than anything in a while.
They walk through a room (his?) into a lovely bathroom and she sighs audibly at the sight of it, already shrugging out of her cloak and letting it pile near the door. ]
Actually...I might have to take that back if this comes with it.
[ It's a joke, she grins over her shoulder at him as she starts to undo the buttons on her high waisted pants, pulling her shirt out and working it open as she walks behind the screen. ]
[ It was his room! Neat, with several outfits on the bench at the foot of the bed, next to a stack of books. Forgotten cup of tea at the bedside table. Large windowed doors that lead to a balcony overlooking the street. ]
As long as I'm here, you're welcome whenever. For the bathtub, or the books, or the tea.
[ Or the chance to escape from everyone else for a while, he won't care.
She might not approve of it all but the boy has standards, and they're high. Too high for what Riftwatch pays them all, without a doubt. Besides, he only feels slightly miffed about being judged; he knows how he is, and he's not even a little bit sorry.
Habit and curiosity have him picking up the cloak, looking it over with a few glances as he (mostly) watches her undress from behind. If the cloak needs mending or cleaning, he'll probably have it sent off for that.
She can always borrow something of his in the meantime.
In response to her grin, he offers Sylvie a small smile. Genuine, and also just a touch unsure, though he does try to keep that off of his face. He stays where he is by the door, for now. ]
[ She grins to herself, knowing he canβt see it but certain he can hear it in her voice. The tap is turned on and the tub starts filling with hot water, steam rolling over the edge and across the floor. Sylvie takes that time to remove her boots, and look at all the different options for bubbles and soaks, finally choosing one and adding it to the bath as it filled. ]
There is alsoβ [ he raises his hand, tucking the cloak under his arm in order to tick items off of his fingersβ ] my winning personality, kissing ability, and general hedonism, but you were already aware of most of those things.
[ He grins at her, moving closer so that they don't have the entire room between the two of them. ] Plus the latest gossip involving the Gallows; or at least what passes for it, here.
[ There's a light laugh from behind the screen, her tone more than a little amused. ]
Your kissing ability and general hedonism benefits me issit? That's a bit presumptuous.
[ The bath isn't taking long to fill, and she can hear him moving closer but doesn't mention it, though she does lt her eyes linger on the screen a moment as she finishes undressing, and then gathers up the fabric and places it on a nearby chair, the cool air and tiles sending goosebumps all over her now totally bare skin. ]
I will enjoy that gossip though, it's been a while since I've had anything new to hear about.
Is it? I would like to think having a good time should be somewhere on the list of things for you to do, all things considered. [ Namely, that they're both here for the long haul. Presumably.
He can see the chair and the clothes draped on it from where he stands (Had he told her he thought they looked nice on her? He does think so, but no, because she stole them off a dead person and he was still pondering if that was an appropriate complement for that situation) and one of her arms as she sets items aside; he stops his advancement at that point, cloak still under his arm.
Privacy is still important. ]
Somewhere, [ he starts, tapping his chin with a finger, ] there is a portrait of Riftwatch's own GwenaΓ«lle Baudin completely in the nude, holding a snake. The portrait is not in a lover's home. I could make quite a few presumptions about what all of that means, but I'll leave that up to your imagination.
The good Captain James Holden, a Rifter like us, drinks more coffee than water, takes the former with lemon apparently, and is not known to sleep. Hm, what else? Oh. The Seneschal spends most of the hours in his days peeling grapes as opposed to anything even vaguely useful.
Should I continue? [ It's all very droll, in his opinion, but that's gossip for you. Also he's not sure how many of these people she even knows. ]
Having a good time with you being mutually beneficial of course.
[ She stole them from some broken in shoppes thank you very much Loki. Still probably questionable. The tub is mostly filled, steam filling the room more and more as she turns off the tap, and with a little sound at the heat on her toes, slips inside. There's the sound of sloshing water as she settles down into it, a soft sigh escaping her at how nice it feels, bubbles coming up to her chin. ]
Really, I had thought when you said gossip it'd be something a little more...sordid. But grapes and lemon. Though the painting thing is a little weird.
Seeing as how I refuse to have a bad time with you, if it can at all be avoided...
[ Well. That's a little different. Still questionable, yes, but involving fewer corpses, which is a bonus in Loki's mind.
He listens to her settling in the hot water and comes around towards the corner of the privacy screen. He picks up her clothes from the chair, sets them in a different chair nearby, and settles in, half-turned away from her. ]
It's definitely weird. [ He hasn't asked Alexandrie about it. Gwen still terrifies him more than a little bit and he's not sure what he'd say if she demanded to know why he was asking about it. ] Sordid, however, well. [ He leans forward (away from her) and puts his elbows on his knees. ] There's someone in the Scouting division whose name is Fitcher; apparently, she owes money to roughly five different gambling establishments here in town.
The head of the Forces Division supposedly has a mistress here in Hightown. [ He wishes he had more intel on that one, actually. ] There's a recently married woman in the Research division who has completely filled an absent Warden's inbox with correspondence in the last month. The Warden is not her husband, by the by; apparently, they don't get along.
And a Rifter by the name of Richard Dickerson, which is a pseudonym if I've ever heard one, has a snake that lives in his clothes. [ Loki would very much like to meet the snake. ]
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Loki is aware of her hands on his, her forehead against his own, the closeness of her lips, the warmth of her breath across his face. He's aware of the magic of the Fade running through both of them, inhales, exhales, pulls it closer. Warm and weird and shimmering but not wholly unfamiliar, not after six months of desperately trying to regain all his lost magic. The Fade feels... not alive, not exactly, but responsive to what they're doing. Aware.
He doesn't know the words for it, the alignment that Sylvie manages, the internal click of the moment when it seems as though the dam breaks. But he feels it, much like he both hears and feels her small breath in as it happens.
The light of the flowers inside the carriage increases, brightening at the periphery of his shut eyes, so he opens them just to find Sylvie there, eyes still shut, foreheads still touching albeit only ever so slightly. Loki tilts his head down a bit, brushing the tip of his nose against hers. It's a request for permission, though not aloud; anyone else and he probably would have just gone through with kissing them, but...
Sylvie is different. ]
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Before they can go much further though the carriage hits a bump and their foreheads clonk together painfully as they're jostled completely to one side. That connection is broken as she's tossed almost into his lap, one hand pressing to her face as she squawks in pain and annoyance. ]
Shit! Who taught you how to drive!
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There an apology yelled their way from the driver of the carriage, which Loki ignores in favor of suddenly laughing. The magic dissipated in a shower of green and gold sparks, the last fragments of which still cling to the inner corners of the carriage car, but he felt it, and it was... ]
That was fucking amazing, [ he tells her once the pain in his face has subsided to a point that he can actually speak without wanting to shriek. ] Not the falling part but the rest of it. [ It doesn't dismay him that she's currently in his lap, but he's willing to bet she won't stay there for long; before he can think about it for too long, though, his face begins to throb again. ] Ach, [ he tilts his head upwards. ] Why are humans so fucking breakable?
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Are you alright--
[ And then he starts laughing and the magic pops into a million sparks of gold and green and the relief she feels that he's clearly ok makes her join in; a smattering of quiet chuckles that fade when he winces again and tilts back his head. She carefully smooths his hair back, pulling a face that's half amused, half concerned, her heart still flitting in her chest from the touch of magic...and his lips. ]
They do everything intensely and quickly, pain, life, and feeling. Quite annoying.
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[ Her laughter was beautiful, he thinks, eyes going fond as she cards fingers through his hair. That kiss, as brief as it was? Also beautiful. Magical, even, and he smiles at the thought.
Sylvie hasn't stirred from his lap like he'd expected her to and he feels like it is too much to hope she'll remain, and yet. His hand is not moving until she does. Loki's breath comes out in soft pants, breathing through his mouth since his nose is still so sore. ]
It is very annoying, though.
[ He glances past her towards the window. They're almost at the lift for carriages to bypass the impossible stairs in Kirkwall's Hightown. ]
We'll be there soon.
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[ You are incredibly endearing yourself Loki, is what she wants to say, my favorite work of art. His hand is so hot through her clothing, and for a minute she just watches the way his lips part and move as he breathes through the pain.
Then he's looking out the window and talking and she probably should move- Lest she embarrass him socially somehow- and bites her bottom lip as she slides backwards across the bench back to her side. She almost sits on the bag of pastries, turning and tucking the back onto her lap instead. ]
So tell me, Mister full-of-questions, what is your favorite part of this world.
[ She reaches into the bag of pastries and pulls one at random, holding it out for him. ]
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That's true, [ he says, possibly too many moments after her statement. But she's holding out a pastry to him, something fragrant and smelling of butter and roses, and he leans forward to take a bite of it without taking the foodstuffs from her hand, like a normal person surely. ]
Mm. [ Excuse him, he's eating, just give him a moment... ] I don't know, actually. [ There's a crumb in the corner of his mouth he can feel but can't see, and he tries to lick it away to no avail. Oh well. ]
I like the people. Mostly other Rifters, if I'm being honest. Though, Wycome was fascinating, and Val Royeaux is rather pretty, architecturally and aesthetically, but there's some places outside of cities that are just... they're calm, and beautiful. I suppose I like them the best, of all the places.
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A terrible idea due to his entanglements and her strange hesitation to solidify something when he had only part of the story of course, not because she thinks that if something happened that it would be terrible. No, it'd probably be the exact opposite, but something she really shouldn't be thinking about.
Sylvie reaches out and thumbs that distracting crumb free, fingertips running along the line of his jaw feather light as she tries to break that train of thought, her face purposely neutral. ]
You seem well traveled for such a short time here, and with the slowness of the modes of transport. I'd like to see those spots some day.
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He isn't going anywhere.
So his expression is a little fond, a little bemused. ]
I wanted to prove my usefulness, which meant signing up for various tasks and quests. Also, Kirkwall is very...dour; the Gallows, doubly-so in my opinion. [ He gives a little shrug. ] Horses I'm familiar with; anyway. They don't have pegasi, and the griffons smell terrible. I took a boat to Antiva City.
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The Gallows is dour, as soon as I have the funds I intend to move out of it. But Kirkwall can't be all bad. I imagine where we're going is nice and hoity-toity for how long it's taking us to get there.
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[ Alternatively, he could buy her, say, furniture or something else expensive. The possibilities are endless. ]
Anyway, ah...the de la Fontaine apartments in Hightown are where we're going, in case you need directions some other day. The architecture is a sight less brutal than the rest of the neighborhood; makes it easy to spot when you're walking.
[ He glances past her out the window. ]
We're almost there.
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[ That definitely was the wrong thing to say, Her tone going a bit icy as she turns to look out the window again. looking for the difference in architecture. It's a bit hypocritical when she's literally taking his food, his ride, and his hot water-- but that's a one time thing.
A one time thing. ]
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[ He'd said 'if you were willing to let me' and she's obviously not willing to let him, so he has to let it go. Right? Otherwise, they're going to end up arguing over something stupid, or she's going to think that he doesn't believe she's capable of managing for herself, and he just.
He'd rather cut that off at the pass. Like, now-ish. He'd definitely like to help, but as the many gods of many worlds know, as much as he'd like to spoil her immensely, he won't do it if she's going to resent him for it.
Stopping himself from sighing petulantly, Loki leans back a little, gaze now refocused towards the city out of the window. ] There, [ he says, pointing to a building with white brick instead of grey, with curves at the edges instead of sharp corners, with blue moulding and gold filigree. ] We've arrived.
[ The carriage shudders to a stop and the driver hops down to open the door on Sylvie's side. ]
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[ She gives him a look over her shoulder, watching him shaking his head, her words succinct. It is hers though isn't it? A few months surely isn't enough to amass such a fortune on his own to afford...this.
And it is something to refer to as this, the building they stop in front of, clearly artful in taste and visibly expensive. So far above the rabble of the lower streets. The driver opens the carriage door and Sylvie steps out onto the street, noting immediately the difference in the air. Significantly cleaner and fresher than the lower levels of the city.
For how little she wanted to take anything from the woman Loki has found here, even through proxy, she has to admit that this place fits him. He still is the image of a prince...she lost that title too long ago for it to matter. ]
It is nice.
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Let me know if you change your mind, [ he says after a moment, before he opens the door.
The foyer beyond it is full of light streaming in from as many windows as the walls could stand; some of them face the ocean and a few face the rest of the city. There's a rounded staircase at the end leading to a second floor, and a door to the left leads to a room of books and chairs. There's a kitchen on the opposite end, but Loki gestures towards the stairs as he follows her inside. ]
Bathtub is this way.
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But then Loki is motioning towards the stairs and she steps to the side to let him lead the way. ]
Certainly a step up from the gallows. Did you pick the drapes or...?
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[ He likes Alexandrie's taste in decor, for one thing, and doesn't see why he should spend his money to fix things that aren't exactly broken. But he notes the way that Sylvie looks at it all and sighs, a little. She'd probably be more comfortable in Lowtown, which leads him to wonder if that's where she'll go, once she leaves the Gallows.
(The idea that she'd stay there, surrounded by all those people, doesn't take root. They are too similar for all of that.)
They climb the stairs where there's another series of rooms: a bedroom with an attached bathroom is where they're headed, and so Loki makes a beeline for it. There are some things set out already, bottles of various kinds with labels and written instructions on how to use them (most of which say, simply, add to hot water), heavy towels, a bathrobe, all off to the side atop of a nearby dresser. In the middle of the bathroom is the tub; large and clawfooted.
There's also a privacy screen blocking half of it from view of the door. ]
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Besides, she's not about to complain when she's looking forward to this bath more than anything in a while.
They walk through a room (his?) into a lovely bathroom and she sighs audibly at the sight of it, already shrugging out of her cloak and letting it pile near the door. ]
Actually...I might have to take that back if this comes with it.
[ It's a joke, she grins over her shoulder at him as she starts to undo the buttons on her high waisted pants, pulling her shirt out and working it open as she walks behind the screen. ]
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As long as I'm here, you're welcome whenever. For the bathtub, or the books, or the tea.
[ Or the chance to escape from everyone else for a while, he won't care.
She might not approve of it all but the boy has standards, and they're high. Too high for what Riftwatch pays them all, without a doubt. Besides, he only feels slightly miffed about being judged; he knows how he is, and he's not even a little bit sorry.
Habit and curiosity have him picking up the cloak, looking it over with a few glances as he (mostly) watches her undress from behind. If the cloak needs mending or cleaning, he'll probably have it sent off for that.
She can always borrow something of his in the meantime.
In response to her grin, he offers Sylvie a small smile. Genuine, and also just a touch unsure, though he does try to keep that off of his face. He stays where he is by the door, for now. ]
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[ She grins to herself, knowing he canβt see it but certain he can hear it in her voice. The tap is turned on and the tub starts filling with hot water, steam rolling over the edge and across the floor. Sylvie takes that time to remove her boots, and look at all the different options for bubbles and soaks, finally choosing one and adding it to the bath as it filled. ]
Are there no other benefits to visiting you?
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[ He grins at her, moving closer so that they don't have the entire room between the two of them. ] Plus the latest gossip involving the Gallows; or at least what passes for it, here.
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Your kissing ability and general hedonism benefits me issit? That's a bit presumptuous.
[ The bath isn't taking long to fill, and she can hear him moving closer but doesn't mention it, though she does lt her eyes linger on the screen a moment as she finishes undressing, and then gathers up the fabric and places it on a nearby chair, the cool air and tiles sending goosebumps all over her now totally bare skin. ]
I will enjoy that gossip though, it's been a while since I've had anything new to hear about.
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He can see the chair and the clothes draped on it from where he stands (Had he told her he thought they looked nice on her? He does think so, but no, because she stole them off a dead person and he was still pondering if that was an appropriate complement for that situation) and one of her arms as she sets items aside; he stops his advancement at that point, cloak still under his arm.
Privacy is still important. ]
Somewhere, [ he starts, tapping his chin with a finger, ] there is a portrait of Riftwatch's own GwenaΓ«lle Baudin completely in the nude, holding a snake. The portrait is not in a lover's home. I could make quite a few presumptions about what all of that means, but I'll leave that up to your imagination.
The good Captain James Holden, a Rifter like us, drinks more coffee than water, takes the former with lemon apparently, and is not known to sleep. Hm, what else? Oh. The Seneschal spends most of the hours in his days peeling grapes as opposed to anything even vaguely useful.
Should I continue? [ It's all very droll, in his opinion, but that's gossip for you. Also he's not sure how many of these people she even knows. ]
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[ She stole them from some broken in shoppes thank you very much Loki. Still probably questionable. The tub is mostly filled, steam filling the room more and more as she turns off the tap, and with a little sound at the heat on her toes, slips inside. There's the sound of sloshing water as she settles down into it, a soft sigh escaping her at how nice it feels, bubbles coming up to her chin. ]
Really, I had thought when you said gossip it'd be something a little more...sordid. But grapes and lemon. Though the painting thing is a little weird.
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[ Well. That's a little different. Still questionable, yes, but involving fewer corpses, which is a bonus in Loki's mind.
He listens to her settling in the hot water and comes around towards the corner of the privacy screen. He picks up her clothes from the chair, sets them in a different chair nearby, and settles in, half-turned away from her. ]
It's definitely weird. [ He hasn't asked Alexandrie about it. Gwen still terrifies him more than a little bit and he's not sure what he'd say if she demanded to know why he was asking about it. ] Sordid, however, well. [ He leans forward (away from her) and puts his elbows on his knees. ] There's someone in the Scouting division whose name is Fitcher; apparently, she owes money to roughly five different gambling establishments here in town.
The head of the Forces Division supposedly has a mistress here in Hightown. [ He wishes he had more intel on that one, actually. ] There's a recently married woman in the Research division who has completely filled an absent Warden's inbox with correspondence in the last month. The Warden is not her husband, by the by; apparently, they don't get along.
And a Rifter by the name of Richard Dickerson, which is a pseudonym if I've ever heard one, has a snake that lives in his clothes. [ Loki would very much like to meet the snake. ]
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