vecna | reverie overflow.

[ queasy, she realizes. queasy and unimaginably melancholic; every atom of her aches for that place in her memory. not this prison. ]

I'm alright.

... thank you for taking me there.

[Just “all right”. Though Henry has never dealt in pleasant memories, he knows the weight they can hold. The long shadows they can cast in a mind.]

You’re welcome. It isn’t so bad, is it? Delving into memory.

[—though he does wonder, a bit belatedly, why he had humored her? Did he uncover anything of particular note, shadows crawling about, secrets hidden in every corner of the room?

...No. They looked out a telescope, discussed a fantastical city, drank wine, and danced to music. Not exactly his MO. Not exactly his aim. Well. Maybe it rebuilt a few planks of that burnt bridge between them.]

Mm.

[ she releases a very soft sigh, running her fingers over the bloodstain on her sleeve.

perhaps, she thinks, this is how it is for elves, who trance and dream of the past, of moments gone before--centuries and lifetimes separating them from things they can never return to again. ]

Did you like it?

[That is a strangely difficult question to answer, simple as it is. Maybe harder to be honest about — they had done little more than mundanities, but at least they had been sincere in her appreciation of them. No playing at false pretenses with her cheap wine and cramped space to dance to. No feigned appreciation for that impossibly large moon hanging in the sky.

Leaning back, considering her, he supposes he can allow a small accedence on his part. Some honesty. There’s no harm in it.]

I did.

[There.]

I liked seeing how you lived, too. What you surrounded yourself with. It speaks volumes for a person.

[ laughs softly, instinctively. she's got his approval, huh ]

Oh, Mammon.

[Quirks his lips at that response.]

What?

I am sure they are colourful volumes indeed.

It showed me that you were passionate about your work. That you practically lived for your studies.

And that you could have used someone to help you straighten up.

[ whaps him under the table with her tail ]

Hush. I had more important things.

[Wow! Thwapped at the knee, Henry scoots his legs further under his chair like it would make a difference.]

Like what? Where did you even sleep -- on the floor?

[ at her desk, usually... ]

I sleep in my bed! Move everything over.

[Uh-huh.]

That kind of mess wouldn’t have been allowed where I was from. That, or I would have been assigned to clean it up.

Oho! You are not coming within ten feet of my bed, sir.

Then make it more presentable for company if you're so protective of your mattress.

[It's not like he has purview over how her memories are already formed, so obviously, this is not a serious request.]