WHO: Isaac + OTA WHAT: Dream aftermath WHEN: First day or so after everyone wakes up WHERE: Gallows NOTES: Probable vague discussion of torture, will edit as appropriate.
What becomes of Nascere, in a dream? The war drags on and on, yes, but his partners, their son—
John's expression doesn't shift, but he feels the warmth of that room. It's still too near to hand. He turns a ring on his finger, watches Isaac's face.
"I assume it's why you've vacated the infirmary," John answers. "Who will see to my leg now?"
A small joke in the face of something more weighted. John has heard things.
"Dickerson is discreet," Hands weighed, as though it were an honest suggestion (as though he would turn John away) - "Colin isn't."
His mouth pulls aside. Tugged half against anchor,
"Have things changed between us?"
Inevitably. He flounders against the urge to specify, to append it with some scrawl of nervey notation. They have known, from the beginning, some measure of what each other are. Some,
A chuckle in response to the suggestions, as if John would have either of them. But the question that follows is straightforward, so John answers in kind—
"No."
There's no need to tack on some insulting flourish (Why would it?) because they both know exactly what might have shifted. The thing is, John has had some time to consider it, and found all things in their place. The choice to avoid upending everything to circumvent some dreamed up future wouldn't do either of them any good.
"Not in my view, of course."
Which of course, turns the query back: has more changed for Isaac beyond the location where he might habitually be found?
no subject
"Orlais," A swamp. "None of the useful parts. Then North — I'll hazard that you know the rest."
John has a way of hearing things.
no subject
John's expression doesn't shift, but he feels the warmth of that room. It's still too near to hand. He turns a ring on his finger, watches Isaac's face.
"I assume it's why you've vacated the infirmary," John answers. "Who will see to my leg now?"
A small joke in the face of something more weighted. John has heard things.
no subject
His mouth pulls aside. Tugged half against anchor,
"Have things changed between us?"
Inevitably. He flounders against the urge to specify, to append it with some scrawl of nervey notation. They have known, from the beginning, some measure of what each other are. Some,
Not all of it.
no subject
"No."
There's no need to tack on some insulting flourish (Why would it?) because they both know exactly what might have shifted. The thing is, John has had some time to consider it, and found all things in their place. The choice to avoid upending everything to circumvent some dreamed up future wouldn't do either of them any good.
"Not in my view, of course."
Which of course, turns the query back: has more changed for Isaac beyond the location where he might habitually be found?