[ Sen doesn't move. He barely breathes, his head back once more, his eyes closed in a quiet could-be-rapture. Barely four feet away is Rin's voice, jesting, amused, seeking - oh, him.
Maybe they'll wait until he's in his grave, after all. Maybe his remaining time on this earth will be ever-sought by Rin, just for the pleasure of his company. (The pleasure of their company.) While he's at this dream-driven hypothesizing, these maybes - maybe he'll live another fifty, sixty years, and they'll still wait until he's in his grave.
(It's a lot to ask. But it's his fucking daydream to construct as he pleases.)
Fucking bliss, to be near them again, whatever they do with their time. Whoever they do with it. He missed them. (Even if they are calling him a bar troll - which is apt enough, he's man enough to admit. He did come here seeking respite from the noise and lights, while still maintaining a nearness to Rin.)
Their voice is over him, paging him like the voice of god, and his tilts his chin, turning his face up in beatific pleasure. One more moment of this: Rin, like sunlight. Rin, warming Sen, whose eyes are closed yet and whose smile lingers softer, who emanates contentment. (Who is still swarming with butterflies, matter of fact.) ]
Which sort of troll do you suppose I am? The one that falls for the trickery of goats, or the one that swaps riddles until dawn?
[ He opens his eyes to see them upside-down over him and grins. ]
It's not morning sunlight that can turn me to stone. But suppose I call you a goat - an old goat, at that! - and you ban me from my hidey-hole? Ah, another exile from Rin's sphere could end me.
[ And. Softly, all the ill-hidden happiness in the world lingering around his eyes: ]
no subject
Maybe they'll wait until he's in his grave, after all. Maybe his remaining time on this earth will be ever-sought by Rin, just for the pleasure of his company. (The pleasure of their company.) While he's at this dream-driven hypothesizing, these maybes - maybe he'll live another fifty, sixty years, and they'll still wait until he's in his grave.
(It's a lot to ask. But it's his fucking daydream to construct as he pleases.)
Fucking bliss, to be near them again, whatever they do with their time. Whoever they do with it. He missed them. (Even if they are calling him a bar troll - which is apt enough, he's man enough to admit. He did come here seeking respite from the noise and lights, while still maintaining a nearness to Rin.)
Their voice is over him, paging him like the voice of god, and his tilts his chin, turning his face up in beatific pleasure. One more moment of this: Rin, like sunlight. Rin, warming Sen, whose eyes are closed yet and whose smile lingers softer, who emanates contentment. (Who is still swarming with butterflies, matter of fact.) ]
Which sort of troll do you suppose I am? The one that falls for the trickery of goats, or the one that swaps riddles until dawn?
[ He opens his eyes to see them upside-down over him and grins. ]
It's not morning sunlight that can turn me to stone. But suppose I call you a goat - an old goat, at that! - and you ban me from my hidey-hole? Ah, another exile from Rin's sphere could end me.
[ And. Softly, all the ill-hidden happiness in the world lingering around his eyes: ]
Hello, Pookie.