02-19-2024, 02:34 AM
((An embarrassing amount of time has passed since posting here. *cough, cough. Sorry about that))
“Arnica. Thank you for the suggestion.” The response was automatic. Either he was already using it, or he would take nothing to alleviate the pain on principle.
After setting her bags aside, he set about the task of preparing tea. His movements were methodical and simple. He had done this a million times before, though as he poured the water and presented the dishes, it was with as much care as she had taken when their roles were reversed.
The furnishings were western in style. The sofa was unchanged from the last time a visitor rested upon it. Even the same baseball team was playing on the screen. Kiyohito took the effort to turn it off so they could sit without distraction.
He allowed Eidolon to take the sofa unaccompanied, and he dragged a stool from the kitchen to place it across from her. The tea was soothing. This cold, arid air had been irritating his throat lately.
The silence was someplace between awkward and reverent. He had no urge to fill it with mindless chatter, and found himself looking out the window as he rolled his sleeves back to the wrist. Unlike these Moscovites, she would be all too aware of the significance of the pattern stretching down his skin. Reminding her of it was something he preferred to avoid. Finally, he spoke.
“I owe you a debt. What can I do to honor it? I assume that is why you are here.”
“Arnica. Thank you for the suggestion.” The response was automatic. Either he was already using it, or he would take nothing to alleviate the pain on principle.
After setting her bags aside, he set about the task of preparing tea. His movements were methodical and simple. He had done this a million times before, though as he poured the water and presented the dishes, it was with as much care as she had taken when their roles were reversed.
The furnishings were western in style. The sofa was unchanged from the last time a visitor rested upon it. Even the same baseball team was playing on the screen. Kiyohito took the effort to turn it off so they could sit without distraction.
He allowed Eidolon to take the sofa unaccompanied, and he dragged a stool from the kitchen to place it across from her. The tea was soothing. This cold, arid air had been irritating his throat lately.
The silence was someplace between awkward and reverent. He had no urge to fill it with mindless chatter, and found himself looking out the window as he rolled his sleeves back to the wrist. Unlike these Moscovites, she would be all too aware of the significance of the pattern stretching down his skin. Reminding her of it was something he preferred to avoid. Finally, he spoke.
“I owe you a debt. What can I do to honor it? I assume that is why you are here.”