lazingroyalty | (no subject)

(no subject)

[Oona's life had never really had consistency before. Despite being a mermaid, she'd found herself compared to a cat more often than not, simply flitting around wherever she chose to go; she slept where she wanted, ate what she wanted, and the only real consistency was work and only because she couldn't avoid that (and even then she didn't have to come in if she didn't want to, so there was freedom and choice in that).

She likes to think it's just because of how she is. More likely it's a side effect of having her life so strictly monitored and scheduled from her time in human hands; having nothing like that now was more a rebellion, a stubborn refusal to return to that.

Which is why it hits her as so strange when she acknowledges that she's chosen to spend more time at Adolf's place than her other friends' now. That she's started keeping things at his place, not quite moving in entirely but there are certain things that are without a doubt hers', and not simply borrowed. Things that don't leave when she does, like they normally did. Clothes, a few thing sin the kitchen. A mug that was almost assuredly "hers'" by now. Shampoo and other toiletries in his bathroom. The decorations and knickknacks she bought at random, furniture she brought to make the place look less like some basic militant-style place to sleep and more like, well. A home.

That realization, too, that she considered this a home is startling. Where were these thoughts coming from? It wasn't as though Oona was stupid-- brash and horribly impulsive, yes, but even she had her moments of quiet reflection and deeper thoughts. She just didn't quite indulge in them often, because it usually turned into things like this, making revelations about herself she wasn't sure she was comfortable with.

She sighs and steps out of the shower, rolling stiff shoulders as she pulls her hair up into a ponytail. Her work has her sliding into his house at all hours, though for once she was actually in at a decent time (she hadn't even bothered to go to work today was why, honestly). It didn't stop her from changing into more comfortable clothes.

Her gaze slid to one of Adolf's shirts, pilfered from his closet on her way. She had her own pajamas, of course, but they were mostly untouched despite any efforts on Adolf's part. He'd even tried just giving her the shirts she'd taken, but she'd only laughed and tossed them in his dirty clothes at the end of the day and took a fresh one again ("It smells like you, I like it" she'd said once and Adolf's face had done a funny twitch before his hand was covering it and he was walking away, Oona's laughter trailing after him for a little longer than was probably necessary).

She was too damn fond of that eel.

His shirt pulled over her head (she was practically swimming in it and something about that always put her in a much more chipper mood, and she even put underwear on just for him because otherwise he probably would be very opposed to her climbing on his lap anytime soon. Oona chose her battles wisely and this was one she had given up on fighting), she deliberately avoided glancing in the bathroom mirror before she exited to go search out her eel.]

Do you think it is strange? [it's the first thing she says when she finds him. What a good way to start a conversation, right in the middle.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ Consistency is a strong suit of Adolf's; once you grow accustomed to a military lifestyle, you forget what it's like not to live on routine and necessity, on clockwork schedules that dictate where you'll be, what you'll be doing. He's not so inflexible that he doesn't know how to adjust to the irregularities of 'normal people' time (that'd been the whole point of the German military giving him a chance to go to school— to socialize their guinea pig), but he still finds some comfort in the familiar. In having things be expected of him, at a certain time.

So, by all consideration, this irregularity should be unwelcome. These new items, strewn around where he didn't place them. Reminders of someone else settled on mantles and furniture that he didn't buy, the unmistakable traces of cohabitation that are like small heart attacks every time Adolf stumbles upon a new trinket or other, left behind with no explanation. They're so reminiscent of another time, a time when he wouldn't question why his wife'd left her wedding band on the bathroom sink during her shopping ('forgetful', he'd think), a time when he could pick up after another person's mess and feel content. Fulfilled. Human.

These reminders should hurt. And they do, but they hurt less in Oona's company; a dull ache that he ignores because a part of him is as satisfied by her smiles as he is self-deprecating about them.

Ah, well.

He's in the kitchen when Oona plods behind him, sleeves rolled up over his forearms to reveal a rare glimpse of the safety grounds embedded right by his elbows. He's gotten used to how she addresses him, with questions and statements that come from left field, so he replies with a calmness that he's cultivated over the weeks that he's come to know her. ]

That you've taken another one of my shirts?

[ Settle down, sourpuss. ]

No.

[The smile comes automatically in the face of the dry answer he gives her, and she hums with exaggerated thoughtfulness, like this being a repeated offense had never occurred to her.] Do they not suit me? I like them. Could wear less, if you wanted.

[But she laughs, not able to hold the innocent tone for long as she steps up beside him to see what he's doing. She's quiet for a long moment after that, turning pensive once more. Gently she bumps her arm against his, not quite leaning against him before she speaks up]

Does it bother you? Not the shirt. Do you think it is strange we are so, eh... [How does she want to put this?] Comfortable. It does not bother you, that I am here so often?

[She glances at him, concerned. They had talked forever ago about being comfortable-- when Oona had said she didn't want to push his boundaries so much or make him so uncomfortable that he started to hate her, that that would hurt her too. She had meant it then, but it seemed to take on even more meaning to her now.]

[ The mundane act of washing dishes pauses midway at Oona's first assertion, and resumes once Adolf realizes that it's just one of her many teases. He only responds to it with a mild exhale, because he expects it to be followed up by the question she really intended to ask. Validation comes in the form of the soft inquiry, a few seconds later.

He turns the tap off, dries off his hands so the sound of the water won't drown out Oona's voice. ]

If it bothered me, you wouldn't be here.

[ Which is to say, if he really didn't want Oona to be here, he would have found plenty of ways to avoid her. He wouldn't have spoken to her, for one: wouldn't have humored her nor bothered reaching out, because he knows what it's like to have your heart broken by a failed connection.

It's a careful admission, one he punctuates with a careful extension of one arm to the side, to tuck a wet piece of hair behind Oona's ear. ]

Why do you ask. Does it bother you.

[That's true enough, she realizes. As stubborn as she can be, even she would be able to acknowledge if he didn't want her around. Body language is easy enough to read, though the layers Adolf normally wears proves a challenge once in a while.

She smiles lightly, one hand reaching up to take his before he can pull away so she can lean her cheek against his palm.] No, not exactly.

[She doesn't lie. She's proven this time and time again, but sometimes it's not lying so much as not knowing how to phrase things the way she wants.] I am... I was just thinking of it. Things like this, staying here often, the things we have collected-- Thinking in terms of 'we' and 'us.' I have been doing it more often lately. It is...different.

I do not know stability well. Having it now is nice, but a little scary. I do not know what to do with it. [Oona frowns a little, giving a huff of a sigh. Adolf wasn't nearly as forthright with these sorts of things as she was, and she knew from experience that her forward nature embarrassed him, at the very least, sometimes. She smiles a little despite herself and closes her eyes a moment, just feeling the warm of his palm]

Hmm, it is silly, suppose. Am thinking too much on it, but I like it. I do. It feels nice. [She wonders if she's just rambling at this point, or if any of this even makes sense.]

[ 'Nice'. That designation is as simple as it is welcome, and what comes to mind is a word that Oona uses often to describe the situations she finds herself in: 'enough'. He listens to Oona's conclusions about their current situation with an attentiveness that most people don't know he has, because he masks it under a veneer of feigning disinterest— that couldn't be farther from the truth, but on most occasions, it suits him fine.

It says something that he doesn't have his face covered right now, that his jacket is cast off and hung up in the closet with all of his other layers. He's given up on hiding from Oona a few weeks ago, given up on trying to persuade her that his injuries should be difficult to look at, and instead of tucking his face under the shade of a collar, he leans in and bumps the cold metal implanted onto his jaw against the crop of blonde that's just within reach. ]

...The only thing I think is strange that you bothered to stick around.

[ Because he really doesn't think there's much to him at all, an incomplete specimen that sits somewhere between man and eel, genuine and fabricated. He knows that that's not what Oona means, but he can't help but stumble into that direction of thought.

The flat of his little finger grazes under Oona's eye, tracing under it with a gentleness that surprises himself. ]

It's 'silly', yeah.

...But it isn't bad. [ He'll give her that, because it would be unfair not to. ] It isn't inconvenient, when you stay.

[ Translation: 'I like you a lot and it's nice when you stick around'. Someone help him. ]

[Her eyes flutter open at the touch, and she watches him with an expression that could only be described as affectionate. It wasn't good, exactly, this attachment she felt for him. It wasn't like it scared her or that she couldn't acknowledge it, but she wasn't the same girl who could blindly believe in fairy tale romances where love conquered all; there were far too many things to think about, things that could go wrong, things that made this wrong. He had a wife, for whatever value that had now when their worlds were supposedly gone. But they were supposed to be remade, just as they were before they left. That's what CERES had promised them.

They could have had something, still. Something short-term, physical, a release, if you will, but Oona already knew by virtue of knowing him so long that Adolf wouldn't indulge in such things easily--and frankly, Oona didn't want that either.

It was a little exasperating to acknowledge someone had dug their way into your heart and completely turned your views upside down.

It's strange, too, to acknowledge she's been thinking of the future, and even stranger to realize that Adolf had fit into those ideas as easily as if he was always there, there had been no overthinking that; when she thought of the future, he was simply there too.

Maybe they could just stay in this city, in the apartment, forever, and let the world continue without them.

The skin under his hands turns warm, Oona a little embarrassed at her own thoughts.]

Ah, that is good, then, because I do not think I could leave if you wanted me to. I like you, Adolf. [A sentiment she's expressed before in many different ways. It just seems obvious-- she likes him, so of course she'd stick around. And though Adolf sometimes prefaces their interactions with a rule--No kissing--he hasn't this time and Oona likes to find loopholes. She turns her face into his palm, pressing a kiss there, and peeks one eye around it slyly.

When in doubt, tease.]

If I ask nicely, will you make something sweet for me? [And when in doubt, defuse the tension with humor.]

[ He's not sure if this constitutes betrayal, being this close to Oona. If asked, he couldn't deny that she makes him happier than he'd felt in...well. Maybe that in itself is a brand of betrayal, reflecting upon a relationship that should have, for all extents and purposes, been singular and irreplaceable as something close to regret.

His issues keep piling and he hardly has the ability to organize all of them into some coherent set; so he stops overcomplicating, decides for now that all he can do is protect and preserve what he has in front of him.

Which would be Oona. ]

...You keep saying that. I know. [ About the 'liking', he means. This may be the first time he's acknowledging it aside from a dismissal, and he follows it up with a pat to her cheek and a slow pull backwards. ]

And you can ask however you want, as long as there's no kissing.

[ Why do you hate fun, Adolf... but no, he's teasing. That statement is followed up by a gentle ruffle of hair. ]

It is something you need to hear. So, will say it as often as I can. [Especially when she says 'like' but means something much stronger. But probably he's about as ready to hear it as she's ready to openly admit it.

She laughs despite herself, swatting at his hand playfully] Why do you hate fun things? Your kisses are sweet, so what if that is what I want? [She puts her hands together as if to beg] Pleeeaasssee?

[Poor eel, this is the path your life choices have taken you on. Of course she doesn't expect him to indulge her, but she enjoys the game of the chase just as much. She steps closer and curls her fingers into the front of his shirt, batting her eyelashes.

But the seduction routine is ruined by her giggle a few seconds later]

[ God, Oona thinks she can just charm him with those big blues and that quiver of her bottom lip, does she. Thinks she can make him bend with her fingers in his shirt and her head cast to the side just so. Assumes she can get him to fold with sweet words and earnesty that belongs nowhere in the context of 'her to him'. Presumes she can get him to relent with 'please's and butterfly kisses.

She's audacious, is the word Adolf is looking for.

And, like a sucker, he concedes.

He leans in and presses his lips briefly against the side of her head. ]

...Go watch TV.

[ There's the unmistakable sound of a throat being cleared, embarrassed and somewhat bemused; how did he let himself get to this point... ]

Edited (how many times can i misspell one word) 2015-10-06 06:55 (UTC)

[Oona was a hypocrite.

She'd never really deny such a thing, even if she'd be grumpy if someone were to say it to her face.

See, it's perfectly fine for Oona to flirt and tease and give Adolf kisses, to make him blush and get embarrassed and want to hide his face. She never expects him to really get her back or retaliate, so when he does...

All the bravado leaves her. It's not even a big deal, it's chaste and a kiss on the head, not even her cheek or hell, her mouth. But she still turns bright red in an instant, her eyes going huge]

Eh!? [A squeak of surprise and she lets him go, her hands flying up to her face] What-- You--! [It's almost kind of terrible just how fast she goes from oozing sexual confidence to being a blushing, stammering school-girl, but the gesture caught her too off guard. She knows how to handle being flirted with (she wouldn't be able to do her job if she didn't), but when it's someone she, you know, actually likes...

Shit. She has to say something--]

Stupid! [Nailed it. Her face feels like it's on fire; after all, she literally asked for this oh my god. It would've been easier to deal with if he had just kissed her full on the mouth. At least then she wouldn't have the flutter of intimacy from such a little gesture like a head kiss that leaves her with butterflies in her stomach.

She peeks around her fingers at him, then quickly averts her eyes.] ...Do not take too long! There is... I want...

[Words, how do they work. It's not like she doesn't drag him to the couch to watch some show or another with her all the time.] ...I want to be with you. [OONA??

She means watching tv, of course. Of course.

~~And too much more that doesn't go said~~

Oona turns on heel and practically stomps out, shouting over her shoulder] Will find something good! Do not take long! [maybe if she just repeats herself in a louder voice it'll help.]

[ Sometimes Adolf wishes he were dense enough to miss these cues, to see the flush and hear the splutter and interpret it as indignance and ire instead of something else. But he wasn't born yesterday, and even his time spent in the lab hasn't robbed him of understanding emotional responses; he can tell that Oona is embarrassed, which, in turn, prompts a warm spread of embarrassment on his part. He's overtread, he knows it.

What is he supposed to do, ignore her? Would that even work? Treat her coldly? Is he even capable of that anymore?)

He turns the tap on to drown out the noise of his own heart in his ears, takes a deep breath when he's sure that Oona's moved to the next room over. ]

—It's going to take long, whether you like it or not.

[ The chiding comes between fingers pressed over his mouth, and Adolf slumps over the sink to tap his forehead against the faucet. The metal is cold, and he counts his breathing until he stops feeling like he's 16 years old and back in high school again. ]

...Give me a few minutes, I'll be over.

[ God... he's weak. He's sure he had some leftover cake from a day or two ago... maybe she can be placated by those... ]

[Oona takes the time given to her to recompose herself, draping herself along the couch with a deep sigh. Her life was easier back when she could flirt and sleep with people on an attractive whim. Now she couldn't bring herself to do that anymore, even denying special dances or private rooms with clients; it just felt... wrong now.

ARgh, when had life become complicated!?

She rolls onto her side to start flipping through channels idly, stopping on possibly the worst thing she could bring up late at night: A nice horror movie. She didn't really intend to stay on the movie, ready to spend a few seconds processing before moving on, but...

Well, the heroine was being stalked through her house by an unseen assailant, completely unbeknownst to her, and Oona couldn't help getting invested.]

Ahh, stupid, do not go in there...! [As if the people in the tv could actually hear it. Not that she believed they could but sometimes it made her feel better to yell at stupid people. She sits up on the couch, legs drawn up to her chest even as she leans in closer, her attention 100% focused on the building tension.]

[ If in doubt, for Adolf, do some idle work. Back on Earth, that used to be paperwork, making sure all of his subordinates' files were in order, reading through the mission reports. Here, right now, it's making frosting for the relatively simple pound cake he'd made a day or so back— as much as he acknowledges how domestic and cheesy the gesture is, he even takes food coloring to the icing and goes for a nice seafoam green. Mermaid colors.

He does this and immediately wants to leave his apartment afterwards, but ah. He'd have to go through the living room, and Oona won't let him escape so easily, he imagines.

So. After plating the cake and picking up utensils, he silently— the operative word— meanders over to where Oona is watching what is unmistakably...a horror movie. Is this her idea of 'something good'... like her taste in questionably cute underwater friends, he sometimes wonders about Oona's standards. ]

What are you watching.

[ He asks, completely out of the blue, looming over her shoulder with his cake like a serial killer eel. ]

[Oona hasn't moved from her spot on the couch much-- just to tighten her ponytail (maybe she should cut it a little, she thinks idly) and to lean forward even more precariously.

The woman on the screen looks over her shoulder, biting her lip in unease. Finally she seemed to have clued in that something not right was going on, though for whatever reason she's neglected to turn on the lights in her own house?? Humans were so stupid why. The camera flashes back and forth-- the woman opening the door to her bedroom. The killer hidden somewhere. The flash of a knife. The woman easing her way over to her closet...

The closet opens and out pops the woman's cat, making Oona jump and then sigh in relief-- Only to immediately scream as Adolf speaks. And with her body pitched forward as it is and her knees pulled up, Oona tumbles headfirst over the couch.

She's beauty and she's grace...

Goodbye cruel world.] You-- Stupid! What are you doing!? Make noise! [Why must she love a german ninja eel?? How did her life come to this!?]

[ Oona's tumble synchronizes with the sharp gasp that rings through the room, via television speakers, and Adolf has to dodge to make sure that his cake doesn't go flying onto the floor— or worse, the couch (priorities). In retrospect, he could've sacrificed dessert to catch the mermaid in his room, but he didn't think she would react so violently. Isn't she the one that picked this movie to watch? Doesn't she have some sort of tolerance for the genre?

Those are practical things to think about, but they aren't the main concern. The main concern is that Oona's looking up at him from the floor, a patch of her forehead red from where she's made contact with carpet.

An exhale, and Adolf sets the cake down to crouch down next to the fallen figure, lanky limbs folded and one hand extended for Oona to take if she wants. Needs, more like. ]

This is my apartment.

[ Is the simple reminder, as he reaches to sweep mussed hair out of Oona's eyes. ]

[She gives him a watery sort of glare around her eyes tearing up; it doesn't do a good job at being intimidating, instead only making her look rather pitiful. The red mark on her head doesn't do her any favors either.]

Wear a bell!

[The most natural solution, obviously. She takes the offered hand and pouts, huffing indignantly. It was embarrassing, but come on! Anyone would be startled by someone sneaking up like that! Though probably not to the point of actually toppling out of their seat...

Her eyes go to the cake, her sulking momentarily waylaid by food (always a good distraction tactic for her, honestly).] ...A cake? [Okay, it's hard to even pretend to stay mad when he's brought her cake, but she at least makes an attempt to play hard-to-get with it.] It is nice color.

[A+ color instincts, Adolf.]

I'm not a cat.

[ That would be Oona, hope this helps. But no, he's putting two and two together and realizing that he isfairly good at showing up silently. It would be better for the both of them, he figures, if he announces himself— at the very least, when Oona is watching horror movies.

Speaking of. The woman on-screen is now being chased by a killer wearing something that looks like a mask made out of human skin. Lovely. ]

...Not exactly a color that matches with what you're watching.

[ Maybe he should have gone for blood-red, huh. He hands Oona a napkin, then two. ]

If you're so afraid, stop watching it. [ She did just fall off the couch?! ]

No, you are an eel. [She grins cheekily at him and takes the napkins as she goes to settle herself back on the couch]

It is still pretty color. I like it. Also, did not mean to start watching it. It was on, and I was curious. Then, just kept watching... [She got kind of sucked into the story okay. She spares a glance at the screen and tilts her head]

She is going to die. How stupid. We do not have to keep watching, these things end the same.

[Oona reaches for the remote and then eyes Adolf, her eyes going from him to the couch and back again expectantly. Aka sit down so i can take my rightful seat in your lap. Her eyes then go back to the tv as she starts flipping channels again.]

What do you want to watch? [If he doesn't have a preference she's probably just going to put it on a nature documentary. It's too late for soap operas-- Adolf escapes them, this time...

Besides she's mostly just killing time until he gives her the go-ahead to start eating cake. Priorities.]

[ She's fascinating to him: all energy, all the casualness of someone who genuinely doesn't feel awkward about him being in her presence. It's the sort of naturalness that'd struck him about Rosa, that sort of inconsideration that chimes a bell in his heart.

She's waiting for him to sit down— that's sweet.

Adolf rarely smiles, but Oona may be able to tell that his eyes soften just a fraction as he moves to settle down on the couch next to her, or maybe she misses it during her channel-flipping. His jaw relaxes, easy to tell because half of it is exposed. ]

...I'll watch you watching.

[ That slips out before he can catch himself, a moment of honesty in that barrier of distance he puts up for protection. It's a rare moment of candidness, and he regrets it, because...well.

Ah. ]

[The second he's sat down and situated, Oona momentarily abandons her channel surfing (there's some movie on about a dog and his owners or something) to take her rightful place in his lap.

Or, at least, that's the plan. She gets about halfway, straddling his leg, hands resting on his shoulders for balance, when he speaks. While the softening of his eyes had been lost on her, the relaxing of his jaw certainly isn't--especially since he doesn't bother to hide behind a collar or scarf anymore. It's especially prevalent now, though, since their faces are so close together.

The admission is a surprising one and Oona stares wide-eyed before the blush begins from the tips of her ears and down the sides of her face.]

Stupid... [An oft-uttered word, but this time it's said with much more adoration, her gaze averting to the side.] I am not so interesting to watch.

[ The cat is effectively out of the bag, and the excuses he could have made for himself seem largely moot in the face of this development. There's a nervous fidget, out of shyness or unease, he doesn't know— Oona's weight suddenly feels too prevalent, and he takes a moment to avert his gaze towards the wall, as if it could give him an answer as to how he should deal with this situation.

The wall remains a wall, and Oona remains Oona. The only difference from the usual is that she's blushing, and Adolf confirms that by brushing his knuckles along the side of her cheek to feel the warmth spreading there. ]

Well. [ He's buying time, browsing through his limited lexicon for something that's appropriate. Maybe he's thinking too much. ] I'm never bored, when I'm watching you.

[ Smooth... but no, he's being as honest as he can. A long sigh, and he pulls Oona forward to settle her face in the crook of his neck. ]

You said that it isn't difficulty to talk to me, even if I don't say much. [ Which is something he remembers, because he keeps a lot of things to hearts despite pretending that he doesn't. ] The same goes for me. You don't have to do much for me to be interested.

[ Regrets, he has a few. ]

[Her heart beats impossibly loud in her ears. It feels, for a moment, like she's standing on the edge of a cliff and teetering precariously. Will she fall? Will she--their relationship, this thing between them, whatever it is--survive it?

She wets her bottom lip searching for something to say. Her vocabulary isn't so limited anymore, but even still it doesn't hold the words she wants to convey-- everything. If they were in the sea, she's weave ocean flowers in his hair and ask his mother and oldest sister's permission, or maybe she'd go the old fashioned way and just kidnap him, fight an older sister for him. Maybe there'd be some biting involved. Maybe she'd sing.

But this is human (courtship? Could she call it that?) and she is clumsy. Her fingers release and clench at his shirt again. It isn't difficult to talk to him, but now it sure seems to be.

She allows herself to be drawn forward, pressing her cheek comfortably against his shoulder, breathing softly against his neck.]

Are you saying you are interested? [Because he couldn't leave bait out like that and not expect Oona to take it. Her tone is low and teasing, but she wishes she could follow it up with something more. Despite the earlier disclaimer--no kisses, bah!--Oona presses a kiss to his neck before nuzzling close like the cat he oft compared her to. Despite the slight pressure of tension that seems to hang in the air, she's quite comfortable.

Not that that's very surprising either, she supposes. She's always been comfortable around Adolf, even if right now she half-fears he might be able to feel her own pounding heart through her chest.]

I will do my best to make sure you never tire of me, though I suppose it would be hard to do so otherwise. Suppose I cause trouble. [But her tone is amused rather than petulant--she's completely aware that she causes him troubles in nearly all aspects of life. Mostly because, well, people don't take kindly to Oona's brand of brash honesty and working at a strip club doesn't really call in the nicest of clientele sometimes. But hey, it always worked out in the end, right??]

Little bit of trouble.

[ Oona fits into the spaces Rosa'd left behind nicely, though he can't say that Oona is a replacement or a stand-in; that would be both a disservice and a lie, and Adolf wonders if this is how his wife felt, too, when she was with other people. More fulfilled. Honest.

He breathes into Oona's hair, closes his eyes and stops his heart from beating around the dull metal embedded in his chest, tries to forget the weight of his wedding band still hung around his neck.

He still cares— he always has, he always will.

But he cares about this weight too, this small warmth curled around him and persisting despite everything he tells her. He has no way of knowing if he's on borrowed time, if this is going to last, but for now—

—he'll try to preserve it, as best he can. ]

When don't you cause trouble.

[ Carefully sidestepping the question about interest, though the embrace should speak volumes. Because his arms have...somehow found themselves loosely around Oona's waist, to keep her in place. ]

It's why I always have to keep an eye on you.

[She laughs, sliding her arms around him to mirror his embrace of her. They may find out tomorrow that CERES has finally made do on their promises to restore their worlds, and then what would become of them? Oona had nothing for her in her own world. She'd gotten her scale back in this world, and it was much better for everyone involved if her family assumed her dead or somewhere out in the sea still.

Thinking about those things only made her heart ache and an uneasy feeling settle, so she pushes the thoughts away immediately. Right now, those things didn't matter, they could cross that bridge when they came to it; focusing on the here and now was much more pleasant in Oona's humble opinion.]

But you have fun! [May...be... Well it keeps him on his toes, right?] As you said, you are never bored! Hmm, besides, it would be more-- ominous if things got too quiet! [Like when you have a kid or a pet and the house goes quiet, you know they're up to something much worse than previous messes.

Another laugh, her teasing tone going full-force] Ahh, is that so? And here I thought it was because I was so pretty, you could not keep eyes off of me. Or the way I moved, or something like that.

[Even as he dances around answering her questions directly, Oona can't say she minds. She's always been someone who valued actions over words, which is why she presses another light kiss against his pulse, humming contently at the reminder that he's real and alive and god, how did she get so lucky here?]

[ It seems like Oona is always laughing at him, but then again, the people who edge into his heart have always been that way. Generous with their smiles, willing to reach out. Circumstances have often been unkind, and he hadn't been afforded— or he hadn't afforded himself— the liberty of reaching back, of tentatively lacing fingers in fingers.

A part of him apologizes for what he's doing. Sorry, is what he repeats over and over in his mind, as if acknowledging can make it less punishable.

One hand on Oona's back traces back up the length of her spine, travels along that curve to settle between her shoulderblades. The way his fingertips vibrate when she laughs reminds him of the rumble of thunder. ]

...Yeah. That too.

[ What are you even doing, you stupid eel... aka here it is, after 500 years of tsun, the one second of dere. ]

But you already know you're beautiful, so it's not much of a compliment.

[ Let's try to pass this off as an insult...maybe that will make this less embarrassing. ]