"Well, I thought I'd play a song that makes me think of home first. I hope that's all right with you?" He smiles, though there's something a little sad about it.
"I do miss Amaurot so. And sharing music from my home brings me joy. It is my hope that you will feel the same when you hear it."
Though of course, it's not exactly an upbeat song. With her permission he'll play, a melancholy tune that perhaps sounds all the more lonely to him knowing that Amaurot- his beloved home- is no more.
It does at least make him happy to think that even now, in this place, something of Amaurot lives on here. Not just him and his Ancient friends, but the music they would play too. By the time he's finished with the song his heart feels heavy, but he feels better for playing all the same.
She can see the sadness, but she doesn't linger on it. It's a feeling she understands all too well, and calling attention to it does nothing but cause them both pain - her for the asking, him for the telling. There's no need to inflict such things on them both. Neither of them need that.
"Songs of home are some of my favorites. Please, I'd love to hear it." She offers him an encouraging smile, then finds a bench to settle on, watching him with soft eyes.
The song is full of emotion as she expected from his words. Melancholy certainly, but also a deep longing and love for a place far away. It makes her sad in a way, but the pain feels good, too. Something shared is easier to handle than it is to struggle all on one's own.
As he lowers his lyre, Amelia stands and walks over to him. Rather than applaud his masterful performance, she steps close and leans up to press a kiss to his cheek. It's an affection she doesn't share often or easily, but she wants to offer it now. A little something to show her gratitude for having been allowed this piece of his home.
"That was beautiful." Her smile is a touch wistful as she meets his eyes. "Thank you for sharing it with me. I've never heard anything quite like it."
"My thanks... full glad I am that you enjoyed it."
Hers is a genuine reaction, an honest opinion. And so it means all the more.
"'Tis the best compliment an artist can receive- to have moved someone with their efforts. At least, that's what I believe. And indeed, it was all I had hoped for. My home has been lost to time, you see... no, I will never return. But as long as I can let the people here appreciate even a small part of it, it will never be forgotten."
His sadness makes so much more sense now. His home isn't simply waiting for him out of reach, it's truly gone. No amount of wanting to go home can bridge that or make it easier to accept what's now lost. She frowns softly and, out of instinct, rests a hand on his forearm as she leans up press her lips to his forehead. It's the first comfort she can think to offer.
"I can't imagine anything quite like that." She's lost much in coming here, and equally much while she still lived on her world, but this is entirely new. Something so much more than anything she's experienced could touch. She can't reach that pain, and so she has to meet him as he is now.
"Would you tell me of it? Your home?" He may not wish to speak of it, and she won't press if that's true. She can offer the space if he wants it, though. "I enjoy learning about everything I can, and that includes the places people have come from, even if there's no chance of returning to them again."
He ducks down a little to make it easier for her to reach his forehead, and rests a hand on hers.
"I should be glad to tell you more." Yes, it hurts to talk about Amaurot, but it was also his home. So he leads her to the bench, sitting himself down and gesturing for her to sit with him.
"My home was the city of Amaurot. 'Twas a glorious sight, truly a paradise. We did not want for material possessions, for we could simply create what we needed with our magicks. We created the buildings, the plants, the creatures. And we made it our goal- as stewards of the star- to make Etheirys a better place. So that when we might finally return to the star, our work done and our dreams fulfilled, those who would come after us would see a better world than even we did. And so it would continue."
She follows him to the bench, sitting beside him with a soft smile. It's not her way to offer physical comforts to people outside those closest to her, but she offers her hands anyway. If it helps him to speak, she'll use the contact to listen.
And what he tells her is beautiful, so different from every kind of magic she knows. People can create things with magic back home, but it's nothing like he describes. To create on such a scale, to create living things that live and thrive in a place? No magic user she's ever heard of could do anything quite like that.
"You said you can't return, but do you know if it was enjoyed by those who came after you? What you describe is beauty without end. I can't..." She huffs a laugh. "Nothing I know of could compare to creation at the hands of you and your peers."
"They did not." He sighs, looking down at his lyre. "The Final Days would come. The stars rained from blood red skies, and our creation magicks would run amok. We created creatures from our darkest nightmares without meaning to, and those creatures would destroy our homes and devour our people. The Convocation of Fourteen decided that half of our remaining population would sacrifice ourselves to give rise to a being named Zodiark, that He might halt the end of days. I was one of those who offered themselves up for sacrifice."
Such loss. Such sacrifice. All for people he never had the chance to meet. Amelia frowns and rests her hands over his wherever they are.
"I'm sorry." It's so little compared to what he went through, but important to say nonetheless. "You had the best of intentions, and to see it all destroyed so viscerally is unimaginable. However things went after, your choice was a noble one. Were I one of your world, I would be honored to know you had stood for me and all at my shoulders."
Without anything more to say, she kisses his temple gently. It's not much for a comfort, but she can't do nothing while he suffers to tell her of what befell his world.
"You are kind." He smiles despite himself, glad for her company.
"Ultimately, our world was lost beyond saving. We would never see our home again, for another being named Hydaelyn was summoned and clashed with Zodiark- their battle ended with Hydaelyn the victor, and with Her final blow She split the very fabric of the star- and our souls- into fourteen shards. Zodiark was imprisoned, and for twelve thousand years I slumbered within. Only recently was He destroyed for good, my soul finally allowed to rejoin the lifestream."
He feels like he's been talking a lot, but... it's a lot to explain.
"And then, just as I was beginning to enjoy my rest, I was summoned here alongside my dearest friend and the love of my life, Emet-Selch. For which I am grateful, of course- I could not have weathered this city alone."
He perks up at the prospect of talking about his friends instead of the way his world ended. "Have you met him? Or Hermes? They are both from my time, my world. And I am very fond of them."
Asking more questions about his world seems cruel, though her curiosity drives her to do so. She resists, barely, by focusing instead on the way he comes alive again when speaking of those who have joined him here. She knows the feeling of security that comes from having a loved one from one's world close.
"I've seen the names on the finder, but not interacted with them directly. The city always speaks half truths about us there, so I'd hear of them from you. What are they like, this friend and your dear love?"
"Emet-Selch... well now, we've been friends for as long as I can recall. He feigns being grumpy and unapproachable, but he is a sentimental man with a good heart. He is the most powerful mage I know of, and he always used those powers for good before the Sundering. He loved his home, and his people. He was one of the Convocation of Fourteen, and indeed Emet-Selch is merely his title, not his true name!"
But he doesn't offer up his true name. Instead he switches to Hermes.
"Hermes is- well, he was always a little different to our peers. Too kind, too caring by half. But he has a brilliant mind, and served as Chief Overseer of Elpis. That was where our creations would roam freely for testing, up until time came to submit them to the Bureau of the Architect for approval. He specialised in winged creations, in particular."
And he had caused the Final Days. Again, this is information he doesn't offer. Hermes, in Duplicity, doesn't know this fact- and Hythlodaeus would keep it that way. Hermes is fragile enough. He would break.
She doesn't press on the name, knowing all too well that some secrets are given in confidence and are best kept that way. Whether the fact that Emet-Selch isn't a man's name is supposed to be a secret or not, Amelia respects that Hythlodaeus isn't offering it. He can keep his love's name to himself as he pleases.
"You truly love love him," she notes, a warm smile on her face. "If he has your love, he must be a good man. I may not be good at many things, but judging a person's character by those they surround themselves with is one of them, and you are exceptional."
It's meant less as a flirt than it is a compliment to lift his spirits. Any other moment but this one and she might realize the implication of her words. Not so when she's so focused on lifting him out of his despair.
"Did Hermes have a favorite of the winged creatures he created? There are many where I'm from, but I suspect that a full group of mages creating all manner of creatures and things made far more than I've ever heard of or seen in my life."
He's flattered all the same. He's never really thought he was that special, especially not in comparison to his peers, but Amelia makes him feel, for the moment, that he's worth more than he claims to be.
"Ah, Hermes created a familiar called Meteion. She was an entelechy- able to convert an energy called dynamis into something tangible. Dynamis is an energy influenced by emotion, and so Meteion was quite sensitive to the feelings of others. And as the first entelechy to be possessed of free will, she was very special indeed."
There's a lack of warmth to his voice suddenly, though. It's as if the clouds had rolled over the sun, leaving a chill in the air. He isn't especially fond of Meteion. Not that he blames her entirely for the Final Days, and if he's willing to forgive Hermes his folly in creating her then he should be willing to understand her, too. But his resentment over what happened has to go somewhere, and blame has landed squarely on her shoulders. Easier to blame a creation than one of his fellow Ancients.
He doesn't have to say it for her to hear it: this is where things went wrong. One doesn't drop the the fondness and care in their voice suddenly without reason. She doesn't know the extent of what happened, and she won't push him to tell, but she will make it known she's hear to listen.
"Things weren't easy for her," she observes, giving his hands a gentle squeeze of assurance. "And for anyone to love something so unique so fiercely and so closely..." She huffs a softly breath. "I know it can lead to many confrontations and troubles. Such is the way of all worlds and all people, no matter where or who they may be."
She wishes she had better words for this. Comfort on an individual scale is easy, but what he's lost, what he sacrificed for those to come after, is on a scale Amelia simply can't comprehend, not fully. She frowns, moving a little closer to him and shifts to catch his eyes.
"Everyone in your story has some amount of the blame for what happened. It's not for you to carry it all on your own." Says the woman who refuses to let other carry her burdens, but so be it. Others deserve the relief she denies herself. "You don't have to tell me more of this if it hurts too much. We can talk of any number of things, or do anything else that might lift your spirits. I have no desire to have you feel so hurt for things that are done and can't be changed."
"You've no need to apologize to me. I asked the questions that led us here." It's an effect of her curious nature at times. Often it's harmless, sometimes it's devastating. She never knows until the conversation's rolled so far along that the only way to stop it is to address it directly. She doesn't mind being the one to do so.
"I would enjoy hearing you play something else, from your home or anywhere else, that speaks to you. I so rarely hear the lyre played since coming to the city, and you play very well." She smiles warmly. "Give me a little more of your time like this, and I'll be a very content woman."
This one brings about feelings of longing, but not unhappily so. Amelia allows her eyes to drift closed briefly as she listens, swaying slightly with the melody. He plays so beautifully and evocatively she can almost imagine this far off place he comes from with its foreign ways, and it makes her smile as he strums the last few notes.
She claps and rises to her feet as he bows, stepping close again to press another kiss to his cheek. "I very much did. Thank you for indulging me. You didn't have to, not for any of it." Yet he has without hesitation. It never ceases to make her wonder when people simply do things for her, all because she asked. She shakes her head to clear the thought.
"Now that I've had my way multiple times, I believe it's your turn to ask for something for our time together. Anything you like - I leave it entirely to you."
"Oh? Anything?" He chuckles, letting his lyre disappear now that he's done playing for the moment.
"I only ask that you spend a while longer with me. I enjoy your company." He turns his head to press a kiss of his own to her temple.
"Perhaps a drink somewhere? Either at my apartment, or at a bar?" They needn't get drunk, but Hythlodaeus finds a glass of wine and good company delightful. Were they in Amaurot, he'd have asked for the same.
"Anything," she confirms. The difficulty of his world's end aside, they've been having a lovely time together, and she's not looking to end it so soon. Distractions are good, and whatever sort he offers is something she'll welcome.
She smiles warmly up at him in return for the kiss. "I'd enjoy your company for as long as you'll have me. I'm not expected anywhere this evening, so if a drink at your apartment is what you'd like, I would be honored to join you." Her smile warms further as she gestures down the path that will lead them out of the garden. "Lead the way? And tell me what finery we'll enjoy at your apartment. I suspect you and your love keep many good things for sharing."
"Heh... aye, Emet-Selch was an emperor in one of his many lifetimes. I'm not entirely sure what that entails, but it seems to have given him a taste for luxury. We have expensive wines, spirits and such... all there to be consumed of course, so don't worry about drinking it!"
He starts to lead the way, a hand idly finding hers to link fingers with. He's... admittedly in need of the contact, after that conversation about the Final Days.
"Are you hungry at all? I wouldn't mind ordering a little something in- or we could grab something on the way back."
Physical contact is a more difficult thing for Amelia, but she makes the effort for those she's close to. As she's gotten to know Hythlodaeus more today, it's a bit easier. That he needs the comfort only makes it more so for her. She gives his hand a squeeze of reassurance once they're connected, smile warming further as they walk.
"Let's order something in once we're back. I'd hate for us to choose something that doesn't pair well with the drinks you've got, though... I admit I'm not always the best at judging such things." Her cheeks flush a light pink as she admits, "I can't make a single thing for myself where food is concerned. I'm best left to enjoying what others have prepared or eating fruits. Those I can handle, as handling knives is very easy for me."
Hythlodaeus chuckles, appreciative of the gesture.
"I can cook a little, but nothing spectacular I'm afraid. Ordering in sounds like a better idea."
He doesn't think there's any shame in not being good at cooking. Not everyone is good at it.
"Honestly, some days I would forget to eat. My people didn't need to eat quite so often as the mortals of today- still, we needed to eat sometimes, and I would often get so engrossed in my work that I simply... forgot."
Being the Chief of the Bureau of the Architect was a demanding job. He'd fallen asleep with his face buried in his papers before.
She laughs, the sound a little self-effacing. "I don't even have such an excuse for myself, and I do that often. I should eat more than I do, but have a habit of forgetting or setting it aside for other matters I find more pressing." Namely anything that isn't taking care of herself, because there are obviously far more important things to worry after than her health and well-being.
"But if we're both that way, we'll simply have to indulge even more while we drink." She gives his hand another squeeze. "Have you any favorites you've discovered since arriving here? We should make certain we have at least a little of whatever that may be."
"And indulge we shall! I'm quite in the mood for noodles, I think. And what of you, my dear? What takes your fancy?"
They're rounding the corner close to the apartments, and Hythlodaeus idly conjures up his card to the door as they get closer still. He'd tell her to look after herself better, but then he'd be a huge hypocrite, wouldn't he? But he's always cared more for others than himself.
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"I do miss Amaurot so. And sharing music from my home brings me joy. It is my hope that you will feel the same when you hear it."
Though of course, it's not exactly an upbeat song. With her permission he'll play, a melancholy tune that perhaps sounds all the more lonely to him knowing that Amaurot- his beloved home- is no more.
It does at least make him happy to think that even now, in this place, something of Amaurot lives on here. Not just him and his Ancient friends, but the music they would play too. By the time he's finished with the song his heart feels heavy, but he feels better for playing all the same.
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"Songs of home are some of my favorites. Please, I'd love to hear it." She offers him an encouraging smile, then finds a bench to settle on, watching him with soft eyes.
The song is full of emotion as she expected from his words. Melancholy certainly, but also a deep longing and love for a place far away. It makes her sad in a way, but the pain feels good, too. Something shared is easier to handle than it is to struggle all on one's own.
As he lowers his lyre, Amelia stands and walks over to him. Rather than applaud his masterful performance, she steps close and leans up to press a kiss to his cheek. It's an affection she doesn't share often or easily, but she wants to offer it now. A little something to show her gratitude for having been allowed this piece of his home.
"That was beautiful." Her smile is a touch wistful as she meets his eyes. "Thank you for sharing it with me. I've never heard anything quite like it."
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"My thanks... full glad I am that you enjoyed it."
Hers is a genuine reaction, an honest opinion. And so it means all the more.
"'Tis the best compliment an artist can receive- to have moved someone with their efforts. At least, that's what I believe. And indeed, it was all I had hoped for. My home has been lost to time, you see... no, I will never return. But as long as I can let the people here appreciate even a small part of it, it will never be forgotten."
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"I can't imagine anything quite like that." She's lost much in coming here, and equally much while she still lived on her world, but this is entirely new. Something so much more than anything she's experienced could touch. She can't reach that pain, and so she has to meet him as he is now.
"Would you tell me of it? Your home?" He may not wish to speak of it, and she won't press if that's true. She can offer the space if he wants it, though. "I enjoy learning about everything I can, and that includes the places people have come from, even if there's no chance of returning to them again."
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"I should be glad to tell you more." Yes, it hurts to talk about Amaurot, but it was also his home. So he leads her to the bench, sitting himself down and gesturing for her to sit with him.
"My home was the city of Amaurot. 'Twas a glorious sight, truly a paradise. We did not want for material possessions, for we could simply create what we needed with our magicks. We created the buildings, the plants, the creatures. And we made it our goal- as stewards of the star- to make Etheirys a better place. So that when we might finally return to the star, our work done and our dreams fulfilled, those who would come after us would see a better world than even we did. And so it would continue."
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And what he tells her is beautiful, so different from every kind of magic she knows. People can create things with magic back home, but it's nothing like he describes. To create on such a scale, to create living things that live and thrive in a place? No magic user she's ever heard of could do anything quite like that.
"You said you can't return, but do you know if it was enjoyed by those who came after you? What you describe is beauty without end. I can't..." She huffs a laugh. "Nothing I know of could compare to creation at the hands of you and your peers."
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"They did not." He sighs, looking down at his lyre. "The Final Days would come. The stars rained from blood red skies, and our creation magicks would run amok. We created creatures from our darkest nightmares without meaning to, and those creatures would destroy our homes and devour our people. The Convocation of Fourteen decided that half of our remaining population would sacrifice ourselves to give rise to a being named Zodiark, that He might halt the end of days. I was one of those who offered themselves up for sacrifice."
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"I'm sorry." It's so little compared to what he went through, but important to say nonetheless. "You had the best of intentions, and to see it all destroyed so viscerally is unimaginable. However things went after, your choice was a noble one. Were I one of your world, I would be honored to know you had stood for me and all at my shoulders."
Without anything more to say, she kisses his temple gently. It's not much for a comfort, but she can't do nothing while he suffers to tell her of what befell his world.
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"Ultimately, our world was lost beyond saving. We would never see our home again, for another being named Hydaelyn was summoned and clashed with Zodiark- their battle ended with Hydaelyn the victor, and with Her final blow She split the very fabric of the star- and our souls- into fourteen shards. Zodiark was imprisoned, and for twelve thousand years I slumbered within. Only recently was He destroyed for good, my soul finally allowed to rejoin the lifestream."
He feels like he's been talking a lot, but... it's a lot to explain.
"And then, just as I was beginning to enjoy my rest, I was summoned here alongside my dearest friend and the love of my life, Emet-Selch. For which I am grateful, of course- I could not have weathered this city alone."
He perks up at the prospect of talking about his friends instead of the way his world ended. "Have you met him? Or Hermes? They are both from my time, my world. And I am very fond of them."
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"I've seen the names on the finder, but not interacted with them directly. The city always speaks half truths about us there, so I'd hear of them from you. What are they like, this friend and your dear love?"
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But he doesn't offer up his true name. Instead he switches to Hermes.
"Hermes is- well, he was always a little different to our peers. Too kind, too caring by half. But he has a brilliant mind, and served as Chief Overseer of Elpis. That was where our creations would roam freely for testing, up until time came to submit them to the Bureau of the Architect for approval. He specialised in winged creations, in particular."
And he had caused the Final Days. Again, this is information he doesn't offer. Hermes, in Duplicity, doesn't know this fact- and Hythlodaeus would keep it that way. Hermes is fragile enough. He would break.
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"You truly love love him," she notes, a warm smile on her face. "If he has your love, he must be a good man. I may not be good at many things, but judging a person's character by those they surround themselves with is one of them, and you are exceptional."
It's meant less as a flirt than it is a compliment to lift his spirits. Any other moment but this one and she might realize the implication of her words. Not so when she's so focused on lifting him out of his despair.
"Did Hermes have a favorite of the winged creatures he created? There are many where I'm from, but I suspect that a full group of mages creating all manner of creatures and things made far more than I've ever heard of or seen in my life."
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"Ah, Hermes created a familiar called Meteion. She was an entelechy- able to convert an energy called dynamis into something tangible. Dynamis is an energy influenced by emotion, and so Meteion was quite sensitive to the feelings of others. And as the first entelechy to be possessed of free will, she was very special indeed."
There's a lack of warmth to his voice suddenly, though. It's as if the clouds had rolled over the sun, leaving a chill in the air. He isn't especially fond of Meteion. Not that he blames her entirely for the Final Days, and if he's willing to forgive Hermes his folly in creating her then he should be willing to understand her, too. But his resentment over what happened has to go somewhere, and blame has landed squarely on her shoulders. Easier to blame a creation than one of his fellow Ancients.
"Hermes loved her like a daughter."
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"Things weren't easy for her," she observes, giving his hands a gentle squeeze of assurance. "And for anyone to love something so unique so fiercely and so closely..." She huffs a softly breath. "I know it can lead to many confrontations and troubles. Such is the way of all worlds and all people, no matter where or who they may be."
She wishes she had better words for this. Comfort on an individual scale is easy, but what he's lost, what he sacrificed for those to come after, is on a scale Amelia simply can't comprehend, not fully. She frowns, moving a little closer to him and shifts to catch his eyes.
"Everyone in your story has some amount of the blame for what happened. It's not for you to carry it all on your own." Says the woman who refuses to let other carry her burdens, but so be it. Others deserve the relief she denies herself. "You don't have to tell me more of this if it hurts too much. We can talk of any number of things, or do anything else that might lift your spirits. I have no desire to have you feel so hurt for things that are done and can't be changed."
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"We can speak of other things. My apologies for bringing down the mood. How might I show my gratitude to you for listening to my woes?"
He'll gladly listen to her own troubles, or play her another song, or anything else she might have in mind.
"Tell me and it will be done to the best of my ability."
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"I would enjoy hearing you play something else, from your home or anywhere else, that speaks to you. I so rarely hear the lyre played since coming to the city, and you play very well." She smiles warmly. "Give me a little more of your time like this, and I'll be a very content woman."
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He gets to his feet and strums a note.
"A more uplifting song, I should hope."
As he plays another song, he lets himself relax. And once he's finished, he bows and looks up to Amelia with a grin.
"I sincerely hope you enjoyed it."
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She claps and rises to her feet as he bows, stepping close again to press another kiss to his cheek. "I very much did. Thank you for indulging me. You didn't have to, not for any of it." Yet he has without hesitation. It never ceases to make her wonder when people simply do things for her, all because she asked. She shakes her head to clear the thought.
"Now that I've had my way multiple times, I believe it's your turn to ask for something for our time together. Anything you like - I leave it entirely to you."
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"I only ask that you spend a while longer with me. I enjoy your company." He turns his head to press a kiss of his own to her temple.
"Perhaps a drink somewhere? Either at my apartment, or at a bar?" They needn't get drunk, but Hythlodaeus finds a glass of wine and good company delightful. Were they in Amaurot, he'd have asked for the same.
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She smiles warmly up at him in return for the kiss. "I'd enjoy your company for as long as you'll have me. I'm not expected anywhere this evening, so if a drink at your apartment is what you'd like, I would be honored to join you." Her smile warms further as she gestures down the path that will lead them out of the garden. "Lead the way? And tell me what finery we'll enjoy at your apartment. I suspect you and your love keep many good things for sharing."
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He starts to lead the way, a hand idly finding hers to link fingers with. He's... admittedly in need of the contact, after that conversation about the Final Days.
"Are you hungry at all? I wouldn't mind ordering a little something in- or we could grab something on the way back."
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"Let's order something in once we're back. I'd hate for us to choose something that doesn't pair well with the drinks you've got, though... I admit I'm not always the best at judging such things." Her cheeks flush a light pink as she admits, "I can't make a single thing for myself where food is concerned. I'm best left to enjoying what others have prepared or eating fruits. Those I can handle, as handling knives is very easy for me."
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"I can cook a little, but nothing spectacular I'm afraid. Ordering in sounds like a better idea."
He doesn't think there's any shame in not being good at cooking. Not everyone is good at it.
"Honestly, some days I would forget to eat. My people didn't need to eat quite so often as the mortals of today- still, we needed to eat sometimes, and I would often get so engrossed in my work that I simply... forgot."
Being the Chief of the Bureau of the Architect was a demanding job. He'd fallen asleep with his face buried in his papers before.
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"But if we're both that way, we'll simply have to indulge even more while we drink." She gives his hand another squeeze. "Have you any favorites you've discovered since arriving here? We should make certain we have at least a little of whatever that may be."
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They're rounding the corner close to the apartments, and Hythlodaeus idly conjures up his card to the door as they get closer still. He'd tell her to look after herself better, but then he'd be a huge hypocrite, wouldn't he? But he's always cared more for others than himself.
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