His voice penetrated her being somehow. The sound of him didn't bounce off her skin and go back out, no. It slipped right into her core, and it made her shiver just a little.
There was a lot going on here that she didn't yet understand.
"Polite." she said it aloud, rolling the word off her tongue. As soon as he'd said it, she understood that he was being it, and she was not. But then, she was being very open, and he was not.
She looked at him, actually shifting her posture to face his profile fully.
He still wasn't looking at her.
"Look here, I don't mean not to be polite. Or unhappy. But."
She ran a hand through her hair, which arranged itself just so again as soon as she finished.
"I don't know." How to articulate her sentiments? That he was omnipresent but not communicative; that she wanted fiercely to be independent and exercise her own will, but that her... need... for him precluded that; that his voice and being made her feel strange, and that as much as she wanted to be on her own, when he wasn't looking at her, or speaking to her, or, even for moments, not near her, it drove her a bit mad?
Instead of saying all these things that didn't even quite make sense to her, she turned back to look down at the world, her hair curtaining her profile.
"The world seems to be nice," she commented awkwardly.
He frowned when she turned to face him. Yes, he saw her movement from the corner of his eye, and that was fine. But he noticed that he felt her movement as well. He hadn't noticed before, but thinking about it a moment more, he realized that it had always been so. He had always been aware of her movements.
This troubled him.
Not because he disliked the fact, no. Because he was afraid (another new word, afraid) that if he told her, she wouldn't like it. She didn't like him enough already, in his estimation. There was no need to push her dislike further.
Pushing his fingers up into a small triangle in front of him, he focused on the tips, then replied, a little quicker than he had before.
"All is well," he said. He let her imagine what he was talking about, whether it was her attempt at an apology for her curtness, or a comment on the world. In reality, he directed the comment to both issues. But he would let her interpret it as she would, and if she responded, then he would know what she was comfortable talking about, and what she wasn't.
He didn't realize that she wanted to talk with him, really talk with him. He was simply the only one here. She was lonely, and she turned to him because their mother gave them no choice. He didn't want her companionship if she truly had no interest in him. It would only make it more difficult when Others came. She would want to talk with them. She wouldn't be forced to.
He dropped his hands helplessly and stared at his lap. She was so close. She was so far away.
The Darkness was lonely, too. He would be happy to make Night his companion, but not like this. Not like this.
He didn't speak again. He let her, if she wanted to. Only if she wanted to.
Her fingers curled around the world's end, and she blinked at the sensation of it. She felt it. Not in the way that she felt his gaze when he looked at her, but in a wholly different way. She was... touching something. That was new. That was different. Gaia was down below, her earth created, bearing forth the sea, the sky, and the mountains. She wanted to go and look, to... touch... those things, as well.
She turned to Him again. But she didn't want to leave... just yet. And then, there was this touching. She wasn't sure she wanted to touch him - already, she felt so... strange around him. Though 'touching' seemed innocuous enough. He said that all was well... and it was good, because for some reason, she didn't want all not to be well, in the world, or between... between? the two of them.
Almost imperceptibly, she inched a tiny bit closer to him, and said, "Are you certain? All is well?"
She was not referring to the state of the world.
For some reason, she could... feel... sort of... something about him. And it didn't feel as though all was well.
His eyes broke from his will when he felt her edge closer to him. He turned to look at her, then looked away almost immediately. Holding her gaze was too difficult. Maybe later, when he was used to her dislike.
But she wasn't acting like she disliked him, now. She moved closer, did she not? She asked about his well-being, did she not?
He had to keep reminding himself that he was just about the only one around. Mother didn't count; she was too busy anyway. No, he was almost the only one around that Nyx could speak with, and he knew that any company was better than no company at all.
Except when they disliked you.
He huffed and then answered her question, perhaps a little more abruptly than he should have wanted to.
"Yes. All is well."
A sidelong glance to her tried to tell him whether or not she believed it.
"Mother is doing quite a job down there," he said, trying to pull her attention
Oh, what a frown she gave him when he was curt, when he was abrupt!
If all was well and he would speak to her so, then he must not like her at all! And what nerve, for him not to like her! She was perfectly pleasant, wasn't she? Was she displeasing in some way? She looked down at herself. Then, she became more agitated when she realized that she cared quite a lot if he didn't like her, which was completely unfair, since it was she who had done the not liking first. Beyond that, she wasn't even sure she didn't like him anymore. This once again put her in the unenviable position of having an affinity for him that he did not reciprocate.
Moving her body back to the place it had been before she'd drawn closer, she mumbled a reply, trying unskillfully to feign indifference.
"Yes. Mum is wonderful." Nyx bet that Erebos liked Khaos just fine.
There was a lot going on here that she didn't yet understand.
"Polite." she said it aloud, rolling the word off her tongue. As soon as he'd said it, she understood that he was being it, and she was not. But then, she was being very open, and he was not.
She looked at him, actually shifting her posture to face his profile fully.
He still wasn't looking at her.
"Look here, I don't mean not to be polite. Or unhappy. But."
She ran a hand through her hair, which arranged itself just so again as soon as she finished.
"I don't know." How to articulate her sentiments? That he was omnipresent but not communicative; that she wanted fiercely to be independent and exercise her own will, but that her... need... for him precluded that; that his voice and being made her feel strange, and that as much as she wanted to be on her own, when he wasn't looking at her, or speaking to her, or, even for moments, not near her, it drove her a bit mad?
Instead of saying all these things that didn't even quite make sense to her, she turned back to look down at the world, her hair curtaining her profile.
"The world seems to be nice," she commented awkwardly.
Reply
This troubled him.
Not because he disliked the fact, no. Because he was afraid (another new word, afraid) that if he told her, she wouldn't like it. She didn't like him enough already, in his estimation. There was no need to push her dislike further.
Pushing his fingers up into a small triangle in front of him, he focused on the tips, then replied, a little quicker than he had before.
"All is well," he said. He let her imagine what he was talking about, whether it was her attempt at an apology for her curtness, or a comment on the world. In reality, he directed the comment to both issues. But he would let her interpret it as she would, and if she responded, then he would know what she was comfortable talking about, and what she wasn't.
He didn't realize that she wanted to talk with him, really talk with him. He was simply the only one here. She was lonely, and she turned to him because their mother gave them no choice. He didn't want her companionship if she truly had no interest in him. It would only make it more difficult when Others came. She would want to talk with them. She wouldn't be forced to.
He dropped his hands helplessly and stared at his lap. She was so close. She was so far away.
The Darkness was lonely, too. He would be happy to make Night his companion, but not like this. Not like this.
He didn't speak again. He let her, if she wanted to. Only if she wanted to.
Reply
She turned to Him again. But she didn't want to leave... just yet. And then, there was this touching. She wasn't sure she wanted to touch him - already, she felt so... strange around him. Though 'touching' seemed innocuous enough. He said that all was well... and it was good, because for some reason, she didn't want all not to be well, in the world, or between... between? the two of them.
Almost imperceptibly, she inched a tiny bit closer to him, and said, "Are you certain? All is well?"
She was not referring to the state of the world.
For some reason, she could... feel... sort of... something about him. And it didn't feel as though all was well.
Reply
But she wasn't acting like she disliked him, now. She moved closer, did she not? She asked about his well-being, did she not?
He had to keep reminding himself that he was just about the only one around. Mother didn't count; she was too busy anyway. No, he was almost the only one around that Nyx could speak with, and he knew that any company was better than no company at all.
Except when they disliked you.
He huffed and then answered her question, perhaps a little more abruptly than he should have wanted to.
"Yes. All is well."
A sidelong glance to her tried to tell him whether or not she believed it.
"Mother is doing quite a job down there," he said, trying to pull her attention
Reply
If all was well and he would speak to her so, then he must not like her at all! And what nerve, for him not to like her! She was perfectly pleasant, wasn't she? Was she displeasing in some way? She looked down at herself. Then, she became more agitated when she realized that she cared quite a lot if he didn't like her, which was completely unfair, since it was she who had done the not liking first. Beyond that, she wasn't even sure she didn't like him anymore. This once again put her in the unenviable position of having an affinity for him that he did not reciprocate.
Moving her body back to the place it had been before she'd drawn closer, she mumbled a reply, trying unskillfully to feign indifference.
"Yes. Mum is wonderful." Nyx bet that Erebos liked Khaos just fine.
Reply
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