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I've been wondering, Scorched.
[ Arthur has been training since before the sun rose: it's visible in the flush across the bridge of his nose, the way his blond bangs are sticking dark to his temples, the slouch of his usually straight-backed posture. But he needs a break, a distraction from his own mind, from the questions that have been plaguing it without concrete answer. ]
Say that the Door started — temporarily — working the way that all doors should, and we could all trip merrily back to our own worlds.
[ A breath, considering whether he's really going to ask. Despite his slightly laconic tone, he knows how depressing some of the answers he'll get will be. But he still wants to know: ]
Would you stay here in Anatole?
Or would you go home?
[ Arthur has been training since before the sun rose: it's visible in the flush across the bridge of his nose, the way his blond bangs are sticking dark to his temples, the slouch of his usually straight-backed posture. But he needs a break, a distraction from his own mind, from the questions that have been plaguing it without concrete answer. ]
Say that the Door started — temporarily — working the way that all doors should, and we could all trip merrily back to our own worlds.
[ A breath, considering whether he's really going to ask. Despite his slightly laconic tone, he knows how depressing some of the answers he'll get will be. But he still wants to know: ]
Would you stay here in Anatole?
Or would you go home?
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[But just the words send what feels like ice water rushing through his veins.]
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[ Mostly. ]
My life's worth far more than five hundred ivories.
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Plus you're only borrowing my scarf. On the condition that you return it to me, personally.
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Good.