[ The gangle of a man reaches up a hand just as they lean nearer, and finds perfection. Meets perfection. The backs of his fingers a hopeful hover near Rin's cheek, and then contact, electric and warming.
Sen's heart is, he thinks, slowly eating itself. This gnashing bite, this wonderful sensation of clenching, nevermind the experience of touching Rin: just to see his hand in the same glance that he sees them. After two years of seeing his hand apart from them. (Not seeing Rin at all, oh, the hell that had been. Not to catch even a glimpse of their shadow.) ]
Why would I call you that? And what is 'that', one asks. 'Pookie'? To be sure, I called you nothing else. And you need no explanation for that term of endearment; it was a situation just like the one from which you so masterfully extricated yourself a moment ago!
[ His fingertips trace as he speaks, until they rest below their chin. And then his hand drops abruptly, catching on the bar and offering leverage such that he can turn around with a comprehending "Ah!" ]
Did you think I was calling you a goat? Or, worse: old!
[ Settling into a crouch that brings him nearly eye-level (and more than nearly near) to Rin, he points, index finger almost tapping their nose. ]
No, look at this lovely visage. Andi, do you know I have known this null some twenty-five years, and they haven't aged a day? They possess the secret to eternal youth. They keep the memory of my own youth, sacred and lovely.
[ Propping his elbow on his knee, he bounces a little, shifting to retain balance on his toes, and rests his chin in his hand. ]
Mystery solved. Clearly, I am not that sort of troll, as Rin is neither old nor a goat. And what I am has ever been informed by that which is Rin Renault - they, themself, a riddle I can't answer.
[ He lowers his voice and nods solemnly, feigning sorrow. ]
Perhaps I'll turn to stone, after all. Ever chasing your mystery through the night, unaware that dawn - and with it, deadly sunlight - approaches.
[ A faint look of pensiveness overcomes his expression, and softly, he muses: ]
What would it be like, I wonder. For your beauty to be the last impression to cloud my mind? My final comprehension before all is granite and everlasting dark: that I am haunted by perfection. That Rin is, was ever, gloriously transcendent.
I think it would be a death I would welcome with deepest satisfaction, in knowing I have encountered an incontrovertible truth. That I need no further living. No more seeking. There is an answer, a meaning in life, and some taste of immortality through finding it. What else is there in all the world that could capture my imagination?
[ He's caught up in regarding them, hungry for the face he hasn't seen in two years. Their eyes, the curve of their cheek, the fall of their hair. (And all the rest - Andi, the patron, the bar - has passed from his thought and memory.) ]
no subject
Sen's heart is, he thinks, slowly eating itself. This gnashing bite, this wonderful sensation of clenching, nevermind the experience of touching Rin: just to see his hand in the same glance that he sees them. After two years of seeing his hand apart from them. (Not seeing Rin at all, oh, the hell that had been. Not to catch even a glimpse of their shadow.) ]
Why would I call you that? And what is 'that', one asks. 'Pookie'? To be sure, I called you nothing else. And you need no explanation for that term of endearment; it was a situation just like the one from which you so masterfully extricated yourself a moment ago!
[ His fingertips trace as he speaks, until they rest below their chin. And then his hand drops abruptly, catching on the bar and offering leverage such that he can turn around with a comprehending "Ah!" ]
Did you think I was calling you a goat? Or, worse: old!
[ Settling into a crouch that brings him nearly eye-level (and more than nearly near) to Rin, he points, index finger almost tapping their nose. ]
No, look at this lovely visage. Andi, do you know I have known this null some twenty-five years, and they haven't aged a day? They possess the secret to eternal youth. They keep the memory of my own youth, sacred and lovely.
[ Propping his elbow on his knee, he bounces a little, shifting to retain balance on his toes, and rests his chin in his hand. ]
Mystery solved. Clearly, I am not that sort of troll, as Rin is neither old nor a goat. And what I am has ever been informed by that which is Rin Renault - they, themself, a riddle I can't answer.
[ He lowers his voice and nods solemnly, feigning sorrow. ]
Perhaps I'll turn to stone, after all. Ever chasing your mystery through the night, unaware that dawn - and with it, deadly sunlight - approaches.
[ A faint look of pensiveness overcomes his expression, and softly, he muses: ]
What would it be like, I wonder. For your beauty to be the last impression to cloud my mind? My final comprehension before all is granite and everlasting dark: that I am haunted by perfection. That Rin is, was ever, gloriously transcendent.
I think it would be a death I would welcome with deepest satisfaction, in knowing I have encountered an incontrovertible truth. That I need no further living. No more seeking. There is an answer, a meaning in life, and some taste of immortality through finding it. What else is there in all the world that could capture my imagination?
[ He's caught up in regarding them, hungry for the face he hasn't seen in two years. Their eyes, the curve of their cheek, the fall of their hair. (And all the rest - Andi, the patron, the bar - has passed from his thought and memory.) ]
Not old. No - Ageless. Eternal.