reverie overflow.

[vecna]

i still haven't put something less stupid here

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[vecna]

Isn’t that what I’m doing now?

[She can take that as a rhetorical question if she likes.]

You can cast magic in the context of this memory. You can do whatever you like in your own head — but the “real” you out there won’t be doing anything at all. Remember that.

[velluminous]

[ so she's truly helpless, at the crux of it. don't think about it don't think about it don't think about it. but her skin cools a little...

finally she casts another look across the room, back towards the ?bed? in the corner, half-hidden.

...

why not. slinks over and crouches down, reaches underneath ]

In that case.

[vecna]

[Completely and utterly helpless. It’s not curse “magic” without siphoning away all control.

He follows, halting just a few steps behind.]

Keeping something hidden?

[Under her? Bed?]

[velluminous]

[ grunts and summarily produces a hefty wine bottle. waggles it at him, one eyebrow raised ]

[vecna]

[Oh.

Mirrors her expression.]

Better than the cheap beer.

[velluminous]

There are glasses in apothecary cabinet. Should you wish to partake.

[vecna]

[Shrugs and spreads his hands.]

Why not? I’m already here.

[Give him a moment to locate said cabinet and rifle around for two glasses. Clinking noises undoubtedly ensue.]

[velluminous]

Top shelf, on left... [ trails off. he'll figure it out. in the meantime, she works the claw of her thumb into the cork and pops it ] If nothing I do in here could convince you to let me out, should you not wish it, then I suppose I ought to do my damnedest to endear, hm?

[ making light of something that absolutely terrifies her? more likely than you think. ]

[vecna]

[Top shelf, left. Henry procures two wine glasses, holding them gently by their stems.]

Hoping to loosen my grip on your mind through ingratiation is a new one.

[He could comfort her by saying that he does not intend to keep her as a prisoner in her own mind. But he doesn't.]

But wine's a good start if that's your plan.

[velluminous]

[ why does he have to say it like that? her posture tightens microscopically when he does—these intermittent reminders that she's opened the door and it cannot be closed again. ]

Of course. Wine loosens everything, Mister Creel. And it is very good wine.

[vecna]

[He returns with the glasses glittering in the light, offering one out.]

I trust your tastes over mine, Ms Vaux. Loosen away.

[velluminous]

Mammon. How many times have I heard that?

[ it is a generous glass that she pours, once she's stood; the liquid a deep maroon, nearing purple. then she gestures for the other glass, to fill herself up.

sinks onto the edge of the. bed. sliding her one foot out in front to brace her, because she really is just perching there. it is almost completely closed-in and strewn with bits and bobs ]

You may sit, if you like.

[vecna]

[A shame that Henry nearly cannot appreciate the boldness of its color; since when he has he ever had a chance to share a glass of wine? With anyone? But he looks at it like an oddity all the same, his gaze appreciative in a distant way.]

Next to you?

[Glancing at the, ah, bed, it appears as though he may have to scoot and few odds and ends out of the way to make that a reality. If that’s where she meant.]

[velluminous]

At desk.

[ that was a quick answer... ]

[vecna]

[It sure was.]

This lack of trust really wounds me, Sprezzatura.

[And yet it is spoken casually as he moves to the nearby desk—after imparting his other glass to her—and scoots out the chair, angling to take a seat facing her.]

[velluminous]

[ the only people who sit on this bed are the ones she's taking to bed. accordingly, her brow arches, wordless. this is not that kind of memory. ]

How lucky, then, that it won't transfer to your physical body.

[vecna]

[His intentions aren’t even running close to that, ma’am. Henry seats himself, holding up his glass to inspect it again.]

But my mind might not survive the injury.

[But he just smiles, unbothered.]

What should we drink to?

[velluminous]

[ that's why a woman's bed is her own! and that of her many belongings, too, apparently.

raises her glass to him ]

To knowledge.

[ duh. ]

[vecna]

[Do you even sleep on that bed, Sprezzatura?]

To secrets.

[He can raise his glass to that — the more enticing side of knowledge.]

[velluminous]

[ when she remembers to sleep... ]

To secrets.

[ and she knocks the glass back, drinking easy but somehow not without her own elegance even so. Henry will find the wine to be strong and sweet, with a slight burning aftertaste]

[vecna]

[He takes a drink, too, and his own gesture is unpracticed but easy. It goes down smoothly at first, though the pleasant sting afterward is unexpected.]

Not bad. [His palate for wine is so unrefined that anything would have been either a plain "good" or "bad".] Do you save this for special occasions only?

[Given that it was hiding under her bed... Probably not, he assumes.]

[velluminous]

[ arches her brow ]

I save for when I want it. It is not too terribly expensive.

[vecna]

[Arches his right back, amused.]

You could at least have lied to make me feel a little special.

[velluminous]

Is that necessary?

[vecna]

And here I thought you were trying to endear yourself to me.