[ She'd tell him if it had been sprouting from something like a dead body, mm? He gently tears off half the mushroom's cap, though there's no science behind his portioning. This is what feels like enough.
Without ceremony, he neatly places the piece into his mouth, chews, and swallows it with grace. It's like taking a bite of rubbery skin slathered with dirt. It would have been better cooked, but what's there to be done about that with this supernatural cold sapping the heat from fire itself?
Now, they wait.
He smiles, like the clock isn't ticking. ]
So Lortel, how would you like to spend the next few hours?
[ If he's still fine by tomorrow they can consider the test a success. ]
it doesn't serve her to lie. not to him, not about this.
she watches him somberly, thinking about what she's done. it's not as if she forced him. still, she also knew just as well that he wouldn't refuse her. her human experiment.
she is a terrible person.
idly, Lortel reaches up to stroke his hair. ]
Stay with me. Tell me about your life. I've been wondering.
[ he and Till say such strange things, after all. ]
[ He takes what comfort he can from her warmth at his side and her hand in his hair.
A routine that's easy to slip into.
And a simple request. ]
You might recall I mentioned Till and I were classmates. We attended the same music school, and it's also where we spent our whole lives, nearly.
We were educated in basic subjects, like reading and writing. Of course, the majority of the curriculum was focused on skills that would compliment us as performers. I can play most instruments competently, though he's the one who took more of a liking to them. Both of us can compose songs from scratch.
[ And, the important one- ]
Both of us have been training our vocal abilities since childhood.
[ He could be reciting these things off of a slip of paper for all the energy he puts into it. His voice is polite enough, but no pride shines through, like he's simply listing off pedigrees so that his worth may be determined. ]
[ Her question may seem like a complicated one, but he doesn't have to contemplate overmuch to come up with when singing brought him what might've been pleasure. Singing as a group, singing with Mizi. With Till.
Those were moments that made the fake sunlight feel real on his face. ]
With my friends, yes, or for them.
[ But that can be true at the same time that her suspicions are very, very true. ]
I may not have lived long if it only made me miserable.
There was Mizi. She was a bit naive when it came to what our place in the world really was, but that made her bright in the sense that she was... always sort of effortlessly so happy.
Mm, and because of that she probably had the most friends out of anyone in the Garden. I know I made a few of the other students jealous, because when she wasn't spending her time with Sua she was spending it with me.
Especially, — Hm...
[ His thought turns to cotton before he can get it out. He hums a little bit to fill in for his inability to continue right away. Thinking, thinking.
But there's an easy remedy for that, isn't there? Ivan's eyes shrink to cheshire slivers, and he hides a budding smirk behind his fingers.
The Murmur fills with an image of a pink-haired girl saying a brief hello to their darling Till before walking away, who then turns around with a fire-engine red face. You'd think the girl had said something indecent, but no! ]
[ her mouth opens, but no sound escapes, leaving her just sort of gaping at him. it only lasts for a moment; she composes her expression with a slight shake of her head.
the scene he sends her across the murmur...
... is something she inevitably compares to the first time she saw Ivan and Till interact.
[ So she's figured it out in only a matter of days. . .
. . .what Till hasn't been able to figure out for their entire lives. He'd smile, but he's been smiling. He's always smiling. He adds to it a slow-building chuckle, even though he's not entirely sure it's funny—it seems like it should be. ]
I bet you take great pleasure in being right about things.
He has no more control over his emotions than I do mine.
[ And Mizi is hardly attainable, so completely entangled with her Sua. Even Till himself knows this, but the heart does what the heart does. It almost made Ivan feel sorry, watching Till spend his days dwelling on someone who would always be out of his reach.
[ In a lifetime at Till's side, what hasn't he done? ]
We tethered.
[ Through the phenomenon that is this place, Till has felt his heart. Ivan has no control over what he chooses to do with it next. If all that happens is they continue to live as they have, then he'll still find some twisted way to be satisfied. He is a persistent, ever resourceful parasite. ]
I don't think there's more to be done, mm? [ Ivan stares into the fire that struggles strangely to provide warmth. Even just the subtle and slow machinations of Lortel's hands do a better job than it. Would the cinders the flames pitch away even burn? He watches one take to the air. It's like it's alive, swirling around once, twice, before continuing.
For a moment he swears that it has wings. ]
What would you sug— [ It's in Lortel's hair now; it does have wings, a burning butterfly. Ivan blinks rapidly. ] —gest?
[ something is definitely happening to his cognition.
a thrill of cold panic runs through her core. though all he may get through the murmur, at best, is a faint sense of alarm. she is careful to keep it close, as far from the murmur as she can stitch under her skin. it won't do to scare him, but she's already trying to think of what she'll need to do if this gets worse. if she truly poisoned him—
this might be a bug. this might be a slightly insane, somewhat hollow bug.
but it is her bug, now. and if she hurt him, she will weep.
swallowing, she embraces him, tucking into his side, and there is protectiveness in the curl of her arms and hands. ]
Why, can't you simply tell him? How else is he to know?
By the butterfly, and by Lortel burrowing into him, though he returns the embrace with two of his arms. One of the others takes the opportunity to try to catch the cinder-turned-insect, cupping the side of Lortel's head suddenly, just above her ear. Slowly, he lifts his enclosed hand, discovering no insect, not even the light it shone with.
Nothing? ] I kissed him, once.
[ Did it crawl into her hair...? Ivan brushes it away to test his theory. ]
He's never brought it up.
[ When that doesn't work, he employs more of his hands to comb through her fire red hair with their claws. If there's anything alive in there, he intends to find it. ]
I'd assume it's because he doesn't want to talk about it, wouldn't you?
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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Without ceremony, he neatly places the piece into his mouth, chews, and swallows it with grace. It's like taking a bite of rubbery skin slathered with dirt. It would have been better cooked, but what's there to be done about that with this supernatural cold sapping the heat from fire itself?
Now, they wait.
He smiles, like the clock isn't ticking. ]
So Lortel, how would you like to spend the next few hours?
[ If he's still fine by tomorrow they can consider the test a success. ]
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it doesn't serve her to lie. not to him, not about this.
she watches him somberly, thinking about what she's done. it's not as if she forced him. still, she also knew just as well that he wouldn't refuse her. her human experiment.
she is a terrible person.
idly, Lortel reaches up to stroke his hair. ]
Stay with me. Tell me about your life. I've been wondering.
[ he and Till say such strange things, after all. ]
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A routine that's easy to slip into.
And a simple request. ]
You might recall I mentioned Till and I were classmates. We attended the same music school, and it's also where we spent our whole lives, nearly.
We were educated in basic subjects, like reading and writing. Of course, the majority of the curriculum was focused on skills that would compliment us as performers. I can play most instruments competently, though he's the one who took more of a liking to them. Both of us can compose songs from scratch.
[ And, the important one- ]
Both of us have been training our vocal abilities since childhood.
[ He could be reciting these things off of a slip of paper for all the energy he puts into it. His voice is polite enough, but no pride shines through, like he's simply listing off pedigrees so that his worth may be determined. ]
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[ she gazes at his profile, fingers carding through his hair in a speculative way ]
Do you ... like singing, Ivan?
[ or was it merely a duty?
a necessity, for survival? ]
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Those were moments that made the fake sunlight feel real on his face. ]
With my friends, yes, or for them.
[ But that can be true at the same time that her suspicions are very, very true. ]
I may not have lived long if it only made me miserable.
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Tell me about your friends. The ones that aren't Till. Though, of course, you can tell me about him, too.
[ she mostly just wants to keep him talking, trying to keep a bead on his condition. ]
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Mm, and because of that she probably had the most friends out of anyone in the Garden. I know I made a few of the other students jealous, because when she wasn't spending her time with Sua she was spending it with me.
Especially, — Hm...
[ His thought turns to cotton before he can get it out. He hums a little bit to fill in for his inability to continue right away. Thinking, thinking.
What was he going to say? ]
Till and Mizi... Yes, he liked her.
1/2
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choosing, for now, to ignore the way he obviously lost his train of thought, she prompts: ]
Liked her?
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[ Ah. . .
But there's an easy remedy for that, isn't there? Ivan's eyes shrink to cheshire slivers, and he hides a budding smirk behind his fingers.
The Murmur fills with an image of a pink-haired girl saying a brief hello to their darling Till before walking away, who then turns around with a fire-engine red face. You'd think the girl had said something indecent, but no! ]
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the scene he sends her across the murmur...
... is something she inevitably compares to the first time she saw Ivan and Till interact.
hm.
rather bluntly: ]
And you like him, isn't that right?
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. . .what Till hasn't been able to figure out for their entire lives. He'd smile, but he's been smiling. He's always smiling. He adds to it a slow-building chuckle, even though he's not entirely sure it's funny—it seems like it should be. ]
I bet you take great pleasure in being right about things.
1/2
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Not pleasure. Pride. I've worked hard, you know.
[ plays with his hair idly. ]
I'm not asking for my own satisfaction, Ivan.
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Even if you were, I'm not upset. I'd never fault anyone for observing, Lortel, least of all you in your own home.
[ What she's doing feels nice, but it's no distraction, now that he has his own curiosity to sate. ]
But why does my interest in Till interest you?
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[ she keeps doin what she's doin.
it's not that she, you know, doesn't have ulterior motives.
it's just that she also actually cares about him, somewhat despite herself. ]
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[ And Mizi is hardly attainable, so completely entangled with her Sua. Even Till himself knows this, but the heart does what the heart does. It almost made Ivan feel sorry, watching Till spend his days dwelling on someone who would always be out of his reach.
Is he supposed to be jealous of that? ]
Why would I hold that against him?
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[ that may be more telling of who she is as a person than anything to do with Ivan. ]
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[ Creatures Till hates, the reason their lives were the way that they were. ]
I'm human; I don't own anyone.
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I do.
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it's not as if she can't relate. ]
My poor Ivan, [ she murmurs, gentle. ] Whatever will we do with you?
So? What are you going to do to win him over?
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We tethered.
[ Through the phenomenon that is this place, Till has felt his heart. Ivan has no control over what he chooses to do with it next. If all that happens is they continue to live as they have, then he'll still find some twisted way to be satisfied. He is a persistent, ever resourceful parasite. ]
I don't think there's more to be done, mm? [ Ivan stares into the fire that struggles strangely to provide warmth. Even just the subtle and slow machinations of Lortel's hands do a better job than it. Would the cinders the flames pitch away even burn? He watches one take to the air. It's like it's alive, swirling around once, twice, before continuing.
For a moment he swears that it has wings. ]
What would you sug— [ It's in Lortel's hair now; it does have wings, a burning butterfly. Ivan blinks rapidly. ] —gest?
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a thrill of cold panic runs through her core. though all he may get through the murmur, at best, is a faint sense of alarm. she is careful to keep it close, as far from the murmur as she can stitch under her skin. it won't do to scare him, but she's already trying to think of what she'll need to do if this gets worse. if she truly poisoned him—
this might be a bug. this might be a slightly insane, somewhat hollow bug.
but it is her bug, now. and if she hurt him, she will weep.
swallowing, she embraces him, tucking into his side, and there is protectiveness in the curl of her arms and hands. ]
Why, can't you simply tell him? How else is he to know?
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By the butterfly, and by Lortel burrowing into him, though he returns the embrace with two of his arms. One of the others takes the opportunity to try to catch the cinder-turned-insect, cupping the side of Lortel's head suddenly, just above her ear. Slowly, he lifts his enclosed hand, discovering no insect, not even the light it shone with.
Nothing? ] I kissed him, once.
[ Did it crawl into her hair...? Ivan brushes it away to test his theory. ]
He's never brought it up.
[ When that doesn't work, he employs more of his hands to comb through her fire red hair with their claws. If there's anything alive in there, he intends to find it. ]
I'd assume it's because he doesn't want to talk about it, wouldn't you?
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