"I'd probably be buried in books if I had to figure out magic," Layla admits with a half-swallowed laugh. "Gotta say, I envy you a bit."
Her expression goes briefly vague, and the corner of the curtain wraps loosely around his hand, as though curious about him in return.
"Why don't the three of us make an outing of it sometime? I've only really spent any time in the one in the Magitech sector, so it'd be interesting to get a more in depth look at the other districts." And markets are historically one of the best places to gather information - and make inroads into the underground that nearly every community with more than fifteen people has.
Steven jumps, not quite making the connection between the suddenly clingy curtain and Layla's potential new power. He doesn't move his hand, though, he just kind of... shakes it a little. Like he's shaking hands with the curtain. "Hello," he tells it, a little uncertainly, but not about to be rude.
Reminiscent of telling the camels hello at Harrow's dig site, maybe.
Then he looks up. "Oh, that's a good idea. I'd like that. Marc would, too-- oh, we could, um, maybe do something else while we're out. If you wanted to."
This time, Layla does laugh, quiet and delighted that her trick worked. "That's me," she says. "Don't worry, they don't actually have living textiles here. Probably."
Maybe they do, and she just hasn't encountered them.
She turns to lean back against the counter while she waits for the kettle to boil. Her head cants slightly as she studies him. "Do you have something in mind?"
"That's--" Steven looks sharply between her and the curtain, brows up and then starting to grin. "That's you? Wow. Is it specific fabrics, or all fabrics, or all things, how much have you--"
(Steven.)
"Er, right. Questions later. Um."
He fidgets for a second, then abruptly pushes Marc out, because this is his wife, and he really ought to do the asking. Marc shakes his head a minute, to clear it, and gives Layla a wry smile. "Apparently I get to do the emotions talk for once. Thanks, Steven."
(You're welcome. Oh, apologize to her for me claiming she's my wife, too, would you?)
Layla's brow furrows slightly, puzzlement mingling with a hint of worry. Just a hint - Steven had seemed in high spirits, which suggests whatever's going on, it isn't too dire. She rocks away from the counter, padding over to wrap her arms around Marc's waist and press a brief kiss against the corner of his mouth.
Oh, that's nice. Marc slides his arms around her, back, and nuzzles into her hair, taking a deep breath of the scent of her. "Yeah, everything's fine. Steven's just been poking around that tether app thing on the phone. He says to say sorry he wrote down he's married, since you're technically my wife, by the way."
Marc doesn't really care, at least, since he'd kind of rather their body not go hooking up with a ton of other people unless they had some serious discussions about it first. Or, you know, at all.
Layla presses another kiss against the crook of his neck when he nuzzles into her hair, then smiles against his skin, shoulders shifting in a silent laugh.
"If he needs a shield against the perils of Psychic Tinder, I'm happy to play the part," she says. "That thing's just deeply weird, right? It isn't just me?"
"Oh, it's deeply weird. Very deeply. Steven thinks it's hilarious, he's talked to two people already, but I'd rather just throw the phone in the trash than deal with it." Which maybe they can do, if this is really required of them. "You believe them, when they say we'll get sick without that psychic thing?"
She considers the question for a moment before answering, because it has weight enough to merit more than an off-the-cuff response, and pulls back enough so that she can see his face, though not enough that she needs to let go.
"I think they believe it," she says. "It doesn't make sense as a lie. It's too easily falsifiable - all we'd need to do would be wait it out. And they're encouraging us to tether to each other, so it's not exactly going to give them any leverage that would make it worth burning their credibility this early."
She exhales quietly and adds, "Doesn't mean they're right, though. We're not supposed to be here - things might work differently for us."
Which is no doubt a part of why they'd been encouraged to seek tethers amongst their fellow exiles - so that if things do go catastrophically wrong, it will be contained.
"So you wanna wait it out, see if the same thing happens to us," Marc says, with a little bit of relief, keeping his arms loosely around her. They don't have to do this creepy magic binding thing yet, maybe. Doesn't have to offer to expose her to the inside of his head, if it even really works like that.
(Marc, you should at least bring it up! That's why we came over! That's why you came over, buddy. I just came along for the ride.)
"Oh, the matchmaking app is definitely not going to help, there," Marc grins wryly. "There's exactly one person on this rock I'd consider letting see the mess in here, and I didn't even swipe right on her profile." He gives Layla a little squeeze, as making sure she knows it's her.
(... not quite there, but I suppose you made an effort. Shut up, Steven.)
"Guess we are," Marc says, relieved that not only did he manage to get his point across, she doesn't really seem averse. (See? I did just fine. Yeah, yeah.)
Doesn't mean he's not nervous about it, though. "My head's kind of a mess," he warns. "Just, you know. So you're not surprised."
She raises one hand to lay it along his jaw, thumb tracing the sweep of his cheekbone. "I promise I won't run away if I get a glimpse of what that looks like from the inside. All right? If it even works that way."
It's probably stupid to be relieved at the promise. But he is. Tethers are, after all, reversible, and she could run away-- unlikely, since they're the only people either of them really trust here, so far, but possible. And she's only had, at best, a month and change to get used to the new situation on the outside. The inside is, as far as he's concerned, worse.
Steven doesn't even really protest that. He already has to deal with it, himself.
So he turns to kiss her wrist. "I'll hold you to that," is what he says with half a grin. "Who else do I got around here, huh?"
Her expression softens slightly at the brush of his lips against her wrist.
"Steven," she says promptly. "But it definitely doesn't work that way."
She pauses a moment, then tips her chin up slightly so she can meet his eyes.
"You know you'd be my first choice even if I did have other people here?" Not that there are that many people in her own close circle of trust. Of the two of them, she's by far the more sociable, but neither of them lead the sort of lives that encourages a wealth of close ties.
The thought of tethering with Steve is kind of absurd. Besides, they're both technically Tian, so... not helpful, even if it was possible.
He looks back at her for a moment, before saying more than asking, "Even after everything, huh?" He sounds fond; a little regretful, but fond. He can't help but think that might not be such a sure thing if she really knew him, but--
(But she still married you. And wanted to stay married even "after everything". Yeah... I know, I know.)
He might have been more rational about it if the timing had been... different. Marc feels a little like he hasn't been rational about much in a long time. He's still not entirely sure he is.
What does thinking clearly even feel like? Ugh.
"I love you, too," he sighs, both relieved and maybe feeling a little dumb for worrying so much about it. "Anyway, that's what Steven wanted to talk about. The tether thing."
She pauses, giving him a stern look, and while there's a playful edge to it, it's not entirely in jest. "You'll tell me if you start feeling sick. More than just a hangover or whatever passes for a common cold on an alien planet?"
"Yes ma'am," Marc says meekly. Well, mock-meekly. He may or may not do it before it gets bad, but he's pretty sure Steven would let him know when it's time to spill. Provided it even happens, which he's still doubtful about. "You'd better do the same. You can't deprive Steven of the experience of bringing you soup, you know, before we try the tether thing."
"Hmm." Her eyes narrow slightly, and she peers up at him in mock suspicion. "I think you just want to make sure there's someone else who believes you when you say I'm a terrible patient."
Which is only sometimes the case - she's cooperative enough when she's badly injured. It's when she's on the cusp of functional that she gets frustrated enough to push herself, then sulk when she proves to be less recovered than she wants to be.
"Yep, you got me," he says solemnly, and clearly jokingly. "I need to prove that I'm the better patient than you." He is not the better patient. He doesn't even do sick well when he's too sick to move around.
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scarabwings) wrote2022-08-14 11:52 pm
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Her expression goes briefly vague, and the corner of the curtain wraps loosely around his hand, as though curious about him in return.
"Why don't the three of us make an outing of it sometime? I've only really spent any time in the one in the Magitech sector, so it'd be interesting to get a more in depth look at the other districts." And markets are historically one of the best places to gather information - and make inroads into the underground that nearly every community with more than fifteen people has.
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Reminiscent of telling the camels hello at Harrow's dig site, maybe.
Then he looks up. "Oh, that's a good idea. I'd like that. Marc would, too-- oh, we could, um, maybe do something else while we're out. If you wanted to."
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Maybe they do, and she just hasn't encountered them.
She turns to lean back against the counter while she waits for the kettle to boil. Her head cants slightly as she studies him. "Do you have something in mind?"
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(Steven.)
"Er, right. Questions later. Um."
He fidgets for a second, then abruptly pushes Marc out, because this is his wife, and he really ought to do the asking. Marc shakes his head a minute, to clear it, and gives Layla a wry smile. "Apparently I get to do the emotions talk for once. Thanks, Steven."
(You're welcome. Oh, apologize to her for me claiming she's my wife, too, would you?)
Marc rolls his eyes a little.
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"Hi," she says. "Everything all right?"
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Marc doesn't really care, at least, since he'd kind of rather their body not go hooking up with a ton of other people unless they had some serious discussions about it first. Or, you know, at all.
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"If he needs a shield against the perils of Psychic Tinder, I'm happy to play the part," she says. "That thing's just deeply weird, right? It isn't just me?"
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"I think they believe it," she says. "It doesn't make sense as a lie. It's too easily falsifiable - all we'd need to do would be wait it out. And they're encouraging us to tether to each other, so it's not exactly going to give them any leverage that would make it worth burning their credibility this early."
She exhales quietly and adds, "Doesn't mean they're right, though. We're not supposed to be here - things might work differently for us."
Which is no doubt a part of why they'd been encouraged to seek tethers amongst their fellow exiles - so that if things do go catastrophically wrong, it will be contained.
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(Marc, you should at least bring it up! That's why we came over! That's why you came over, buddy. I just came along for the ride.)
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One corner of her mouth crimps in a small, wry smile. "Besides, I don't need some ridiculous matchmaking app to tell me who I'd trust inside my head."
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(... not quite there, but I suppose you made an effort. Shut up, Steven.)
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"So we're agreed, then?" she says. "Wait it out, but we've got each other's backs if it does come down to that?"
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Doesn't mean he's not nervous about it, though. "My head's kind of a mess," he warns. "Just, you know. So you're not surprised."
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She raises one hand to lay it along his jaw, thumb tracing the sweep of his cheekbone. "I promise I won't run away if I get a glimpse of what that looks like from the inside. All right? If it even works that way."
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Steven doesn't even really protest that. He already has to deal with it, himself.
So he turns to kiss her wrist. "I'll hold you to that," is what he says with half a grin. "Who else do I got around here, huh?"
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"Steven," she says promptly. "But it definitely doesn't work that way."
She pauses a moment, then tips her chin up slightly so she can meet his eyes.
"You know you'd be my first choice even if I did have other people here?" Not that there are that many people in her own close circle of trust. Of the two of them, she's by far the more sociable, but neither of them lead the sort of lives that encourages a wealth of close ties.
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He looks back at her for a moment, before saying more than asking, "Even after everything, huh?" He sounds fond; a little regretful, but fond. He can't help but think that might not be such a sure thing if she really knew him, but--
(But she still married you. And wanted to stay married even "after everything". Yeah... I know, I know.)
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If not, perhaps, quite as well as she'd assumed, if he'd thought for even a moment that there was the slightest chance she'd go along with Khonshu.
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What does thinking clearly even feel like? Ugh.
"I love you, too," he sighs, both relieved and maybe feeling a little dumb for worrying so much about it. "Anyway, that's what Steven wanted to talk about. The tether thing."
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She pauses, giving him a stern look, and while there's a playful edge to it, it's not entirely in jest. "You'll tell me if you start feeling sick. More than just a hangover or whatever passes for a common cold on an alien planet?"
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Which is only sometimes the case - she's cooperative enough when she's badly injured. It's when she's on the cusp of functional that she gets frustrated enough to push herself, then sulk when she proves to be less recovered than she wants to be.
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"Good thing we have an excellent chance of being fine," she says. "That's one competition no one should have to judge."
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