prince of men face? [open]

[fitzroyal]

 Henry hasn't been out and about for a while, but he's descended tonight, early in the evening. He looks fairly normal - with things going better with Anita, the color of his eyes is almost back to human hazel, just a touch darker than they should be, and he could pass for a rather anemic human being. He seems relaxed, if a little bit thoughtful,

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[tomboy_22]

Of course his girlfriend, sorry, his betrothed, will have to wander over.

It's -- been odd. Pushing thoughts of the other man as far as she can out of her mind in his presence, tuning into him, touching on to his energy, listening, as much as she can. Relearning him, by many ways. And she knows. No matter how she feels about Lucivar (that's still unclear, and she fears she's lost a friend), she is linked to Henry. And it's a good sort of link. A healthier one, in some ways. Less overwhelming.

And she'll be in this -- thoughtful -- frame of mind, looking at him quietly, not interrupting.

And thinking he's beautiful.

[fitzroyal]

Girlfriend, betrothed...beloved.

He smiles a little, feeling her there, attuned to her again himself, aware of her or striving to be aware of her now more than ever, what she needs, what she wants, where she is. It's not - he doesn't mean to obsess. He just doesn't want to lose track of her again. Literally or metaphorically.

It was a mistake last time, and he recognizes that. Jealousy is a sin and he ought to have remembered that.

"Panem nostrum quotidianum da nobis hodie, et dimitte nobis debita nostra sicut et nos dimittimus debitoribus nostris. Et ne nos inducas in tentationem, sed libera nos a malo. Amen."

He turns, finally, and looks at her, his eyes gleaming a little in the little light that's here this late. "I think," he murmurs, "I've ruined your sleep schedule."

[tomboy_22]

She smiles a little, just barely, quietly.

"It was fucked long before you came in my life, hon," she drawls. "You're taking way too much credit."

There's no bite in her tone, though, just quiet tenderness.

"Haven't heard mass in Latin since Philip disappeared." Pause. "Well. That's not exactly true."

Hm. She's meaning to bring up Parsifal.

[fitzroyal]

"I'll take the credit," he says, with a small smile back, "I'm selfish that way." He comes over, though, reaches out to smooth her hair back and kiss her forehead, and if there's just the slightest hitch before he makes the gesture...

It's not complete.

"Just the Lord's Prayer, I'm afraid. Is someone saying Mass in Latin?" He tenses, slightly, but in an alert rather than a worried way. Well now...

That makes him almost...hopeful.

[tomboy_22]

Anita can't help but grin. "Oh yes, someone is," she replies. "And if you had to guess who?"

The concept of Parsifal being here now vaguely amuses her (though if she were honest, she'd admit to being impressed, too.)

[fitzroyal]

Henry shakes his head a little, but there's a very small smile on his face as well, partly for her grin, and partly for the implication. "I haven't the least idea, Anita. The Pope?" He's teasing, of course, but with this place...one never does quite know what is and isn't out of bounds.

He will be fairly impressed himself. Particularly if the Grail Knight ends up marrying him and Anita.

[tomboy_22]

... okay, this is Anita laughing, and putting her arms around his neck, and then laughing more.

"--- no. Guess again."

The hilarity did her good, though. Dispelled some of the sadness in her, somewhat.

[fitzroyal]

Oh good. He's glad to see that, or sense it, and smiles more for it. "Again? Well. Someone from lore, I gather, that I should recognize. A famous priest? I can't think of terribly many...unless it's some kind of saint?"

He's only half joking.

[tomboy_22]

"Henry, make an effort. You know this guy's name."

Oh, but she is amused. And leaning a little more into him, looking (and being) utterly in love with him.

For the first time in a bit, she's managing not to think (too much) about Lucivar.

Who will never be forgotten, alas.

[fitzroyal]

He closes his eyes, scrolling through his mental mythology. "Oh, I don't know, Anita...Arthurian legend, perhaps? Something to do with - Ser Parsifal?" It's a completely offhand guess, and he doesn't expect to be right. Not at all.

Not too much is, Henry kind of thinks, the most that he can expect.

[tomboy_22]

Anita giggles and can't resist kissing the corner of his mouth. "Exactly." Pause. Mock frown, but for once, she wouldn't mind. "You're not reading my mind, are you?"

Hmmm.... this is nice.

[fitzroyal]

His eyes snap wide from their former lazily amused, and the way he draws back to stare at her in mild disbelief is perhaps enough of an answer to that. "Sir Parsifal? The Grail Knight? --you are serious, aren't you?"

Very nice. And oh. He wonders. Yes he does wonder.

[tomboy_22]

"With matching bleeding lance and blubbering homily," Anita completes. "-- frankly, it was a bit freaky."

A beat.

"--- also kind of reassuring."

What with Morgoth being around and all that.

[fitzroyal]

"Good God," Henry says, a little bit awed. "The - mother of god. That's...Anita," he says, "Anita, this could be - a chance. Couldn't it?"

He can't help it. Jumping to that. He's waited. He's waited a long time.

[tomboy_22]

--- "I -- I guess," she replies. "Though I can't imagine Parsifal accepting to do this for -- well. Us."

Pause.

"Henry, do we really need it?"

[fitzroyal]

He pauses, a little, and looks at her. He would...like it. In his own way, he feels like he does. But he's too attuned to her to ignore her signals, especially now. And hesitates.

"...perhaps not."

If she would sooner not...he can give up his desire for something permanent to hold them together. (And of course he knows that permanence is an illusion - look at his father! - but nonetheless...it's important, somehow.)