PETER
The smile on Peters face grows more, cracking away more and more of his anxiety as it does. He pulls a second crown from the air, silver instead of the gold that Evies is, but just as striking against his hair, and leans forward, looking over the library with a careful eye. After a moment, he spoke, half glad that he hadn’t been able to think of anything better than Evies pun. The whole scene was her idea after all, he was just playing in it. ”I like that. Tomb... of Tomes.” The last part came out in an exaggerated accent, his voice quick and brimming with laughter.
It was so easy to talk to Evie, about seemingly anything. But the talk of magic seems to be one of those things that affected the apothecary more than it did him, and Peter wants desperately to help her in the same way she helped him. Helps him. ”Why don’t... people know about, or... know more about magic here? If it’s normal?” As soon as the words are out of his mouth, he knows they’re not right, but now he has to commit. At least he’ll maybe get a chance to learn ore about why the subject affected Evie so much.
Apricum lifts its nose to meet Evies hand, trusting and eager for the contact. Peter smiles, glad she hadn’t reacted poorly to his companion. A few people had; Loren, for instance, had seemed far less than comfortable, a reaction that stuck in Peters throat for whatever reason. He reaches out to stroke a lone finger along the bony luxere’s spine, focusing on the pale white of its body, the pure absence of light that is its antlers, until his partner in crime (/queen/friend) speaks. ”Not he.” He corrects softly, voice just as gentle as hers is now. ”It likes it best. And... I do too.” He couldn’t explain why, exactly, so he didn’t try, just hoped his words would be accepted.
”I think I might uh... I might like healing.” The words come out fairly smoothly, for him, and manage to sound like a joke, especially when he holds up his hands to show off the crisscrossing and overlapping marks on them. His tone starts to grow more serious the beginning of a question on his lips when she returns his compliment, and he sputters instead of saying anything. A blush creeps up his neck, his ears red hot as he smiles, and covers pet of his face. ”I have a... a suitor. Kind of. I think?” He managed, words trailing into confusion at the end. Did Adam count? Were suitors just for getting married to?
It was so easy to talk to Evie, about seemingly anything. But the talk of magic seems to be one of those things that affected the apothecary more than it did him, and Peter wants desperately to help her in the same way she helped him. Helps him. ”Why don’t... people know about, or... know more about magic here? If it’s normal?” As soon as the words are out of his mouth, he knows they’re not right, but now he has to commit. At least he’ll maybe get a chance to learn ore about why the subject affected Evie so much.
Apricum lifts its nose to meet Evies hand, trusting and eager for the contact. Peter smiles, glad she hadn’t reacted poorly to his companion. A few people had; Loren, for instance, had seemed far less than comfortable, a reaction that stuck in Peters throat for whatever reason. He reaches out to stroke a lone finger along the bony luxere’s spine, focusing on the pale white of its body, the pure absence of light that is its antlers, until his partner in crime (/queen/friend) speaks. ”Not he.” He corrects softly, voice just as gentle as hers is now. ”It likes it best. And... I do too.” He couldn’t explain why, exactly, so he didn’t try, just hoped his words would be accepted.
”I think I might uh... I might like healing.” The words come out fairly smoothly, for him, and manage to sound like a joke, especially when he holds up his hands to show off the crisscrossing and overlapping marks on them. His tone starts to grow more serious the beginning of a question on his lips when she returns his compliment, and he sputters instead of saying anything. A blush creeps up his neck, his ears red hot as he smiles, and covers pet of his face. ”I have a... a suitor. Kind of. I think?” He managed, words trailing into confusion at the end. Did Adam count? Were suitors just for getting married to?
and our memories defeat us
and I’ll end this duress
and I’ll end this duress
