( in hindsight: possibly true. erik strikes her as a man more accustomed to the wielding honesty like the pommel of an axe — all blunt force applied to someone's skull to daze them. nothing so crafty as the wheedling she's experienced, waiting to see what good favor they can spin from her. still: )
Or you're leading up to requesting my services as a lantern the next time you stub your toe in the dark.
[ Erik might be a master manipulator and adept at getting what he wants, but that tends to come more from brute force than from twisting words. When he says things, he means that, burning honestly that thrums through him. ]
I’m sure you’d be far more impressive than a lantern.
I might argue the nature of this place makes it even more difficult to be creative. There isn't much that's in short supply.
( the daily menu tends to go a little like this, from what alina's witnessed: food, sex, more food, more sex. like a lantsov feast, if they were more openly depraved about their indulgences. )
( from any other mouth, it would sound like (well, read like, she supposes) empty lip service. what you're politely meant to say, in response to someone making themselves an imposition. from erik's mouth — she's struck, suddenly, by how silly she is to be relieved. he's right, of course. he's not one to sugarcoat words to make them more digestible, easier to swallow, for the sake of sparing sore feelings.
she doesn't question it a second time. in fact, it hushes the doubt that's been incessantly buzzing around her skull, settles her thoughts into a pleasantly quiet thrum. )
fair enough. you don't seem like the sort of man who tolerates much. find me after dinner. ( hm. ) or before? we can go together.
[ Erik, as he's already been told, speaks plainly: he wouldn't only mince words and play with them if he intended to manipulate, and Alina is in the protected position of being a mutant. Safe, in other words, from his manipulations for now. ]
( he's not a man that can be made to do anything, a rival for wayward stallions that refuse to be broken in. still, she can't starve the impulse anymore than she suspects erik can repress the urge to chomp at the bit — two different breeds of animals, unable to break free of their instincts.
embarrassed, alina scrubs a hand over her flustered complexion, sucking in a dragging breath at the correction. it's not just the imposition of it — it's the symbolic ownership of it, an echo of the gold and black aleksander had draped her in, only to realize how deeply he meant to eclipse her in the wingspan of his shadow. a tingling flush crawls along the winding, curving path of her collarbone. )
It's just that ... Well. People would associate it with me, back in Ravka. It seems rather presumptuous to expect you to wear any of my colors.
It would be a pocket square, Alina, not a blue wedding suit.
[ Erik can understand, in a way. He had worn a colour, once, to highlight who he was, to mark him as other. It's a different situation - to wear colour as a source of pride versus a means of demonisation and discrimination - but he empathises.
Just a little. ]
If you'd rather I didn't, I'll wear something else. It doesn't bother me.
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Or you're leading up to requesting my services as a lantern the next time you stub your toe in the dark.
( a good-humored deflection, naturally. )
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I’m sure you’d be far more impressive than a lantern.
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You're right. I'm incredibly multifaceted.
I make for a good deterrent against frostbite, too.
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I’ll keep that in mind if the weather takes a turn for the worse.
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Well, I'll be in high demand if that's the case, I imagine.
( unspoken: what, and where, is her
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Though I'm quite invincible against charm ( she says, like a liar — ) so I'm afraid you'll have to get creative.
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( the daily menu tends to go a little like this, from what alina's witnessed: food, sex, more food, more sex. like a lantsov feast, if they were more openly depraved about their indulgences. )
It would have to be a very inspired offering.
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I think a more thorough demonstration might be in order.
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( the joke apparent: like every other indulgence here, they have time in abundance. )
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( playful, for all that the reasoning for it isn't nearly light — night owl by the design of her night terrors, not by choice. )
are you sure i won't be interrupting your nights?
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she doesn't question it a second time. in fact, it hushes the doubt that's been incessantly buzzing around her skull, settles her thoughts into a pleasantly quiet thrum. )
fair enough. you don't seem like the sort of man who tolerates much.
find me after dinner. ( hm. ) or before? we can go together.
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I'm not.
I can tolerate a dinner in your company.
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Wear something nice. I have high hopes of being impressed tonight.
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( a poetic pull to her own familiar colors, naturally, drawn to it as inevitably as any sun rising on a blue horizon. still: )
You don't have to match with me.
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( he's not a man that can be made to do anything, a rival for wayward stallions that refuse to be broken in. still, she can't starve the impulse anymore than she suspects erik can repress the urge to chomp at the bit — two different breeds of animals, unable to break free of their instincts.
embarrassed, alina scrubs a hand over her flustered complexion, sucking in a dragging breath at the correction. it's not just the imposition of it — it's the symbolic ownership of it, an echo of the gold and black aleksander had draped her in, only to realize how deeply he meant to eclipse her in the wingspan of his shadow. a tingling flush crawls along the winding, curving path of her collarbone. )
It's just that ... Well.
People would associate it with me, back in Ravka. It seems rather presumptuous to expect you to wear any of my colors.
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[ Erik can understand, in a way. He had worn a colour, once, to highlight who he was, to mark him as other. It's a different situation - to wear colour as a source of pride versus a means of demonisation and discrimination - but he empathises.
Just a little. ]
If you'd rather I didn't, I'll wear something else. It doesn't bother me.
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