WHO: Ellis + OTA WHAT: Homecoming WHEN: Guardian WHERE: Kirkwall NOTES: Thread collection. Closed and open starters in the comments. Holler if you want something bespoke or drop in a wildcard, I'll roll with it.
"They weren't so free with their compliments in Weisshaupt."
As if that is a drawback.
Having been seated even for a few moments, all the ways his body hurts comes into clear focus. He is tired. But he isn't so tired that he cares to leave this seat in search of his room.
"What are you working on?" Ellis asks, as if this were any other night where he's found Tony working far too late on something or other.
Well, he's making jokes. Something about that is so unexpectedly relieving that Tony's focus drops to his brandy, and then he lists backwards to drink from it. A generous mouthful, but that's just kind of how he drinks, you know, like a latent alcoholic, and he sets the glass aside after.
"Trying out a new casing," Tony says, lacing his fingers together. "Something that'll contain a higher rate of thaumic decay. I made you a present for Satinalia. You want it?"
The shift in conversation doesn't at all change the tone and cadence of his voice, seamlessly following whatever synapse firing brought it on.
The sudden turn of Tony's focus is met with a beat of quiet. Reacclimating.
Right. Satinalia. Ellis had lost track of it. That's as much a part of the pause as Ellis realigning to the new direction of their conversation, remembering that Tony's does this and that he is capable of keeping up with it.
"Yes," comes slower than it might have, but still, it arrives. Ellis straightens in his chair, prepared to rise if necessary.
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no subject
Very solemn.
"They weren't so free with their compliments in Weisshaupt."
As if that is a drawback.
Having been seated even for a few moments, all the ways his body hurts comes into clear focus. He is tired. But he isn't so tired that he cares to leave this seat in search of his room.
"What are you working on?" Ellis asks, as if this were any other night where he's found Tony working far too late on something or other.
no subject
"Trying out a new casing," Tony says, lacing his fingers together. "Something that'll contain a higher rate of thaumic decay. I made you a present for Satinalia. You want it?"
The shift in conversation doesn't at all change the tone and cadence of his voice, seamlessly following whatever synapse firing brought it on.
no subject
Right. Satinalia. Ellis had lost track of it. That's as much a part of the pause as Ellis realigning to the new direction of their conversation, remembering that Tony's does this and that he is capable of keeping up with it.
"Yes," comes slower than it might have, but still, it arrives. Ellis straightens in his chair, prepared to rise if necessary.