[She smiles softly as he greets her, bowing her head lightly in return before she comes in]
You don't dress up for formal occasions? [Helaena eyes him curiously, before looking down at the clothes in her arms, considering. They're definitely more fancy than most would wear around here just for everyday wear.]
These might be a bit much, but...I think they'd suit you. I don't have your exact measurements so I need to see how they look on you now so I know what needs to be taken in or let out. [She unfurls the vest and coat for him]
Not really, no. That's a Cohort thing, usually—that's military, at home. I never joined up with the Cohort, so I got to wear what I wanted to functions.
[This he explains as he shuts the door and follows her back into the living room. Should he have dressed up, as the Master Warden? Possibly! But the Sixth has never been known for their diehard dedication to uniform or public formality, and anyway, that ship has sailed.
Anyway: oh, that's probably the fanciest thing he's ever seen outside of some of the Third House fashion he's dimly familiar with...]
[She looks at him and then down at the clothes, expression thoughtful]
...Our house colors are black and red. But... my mother's color is green. We've all started wearing it more, separating us from my half-sister's family. Dragons of green and dragons of black.
Since we've imprinted somewhat on each other, I thought it might help to deepen it by showing that you're aligned with my family.
[She eyes his clothes and then gives a very serious nod] Yes, if you could. I might have to find a nice shirt for you to wear with it later too... But for now, anything nicer you have will do.
[Anything nicer than like the equiv of a hoodie anyhow]
[Sorry he is such a generic college dude when left to his own devices... He nods and gestures to the rest of the room.]
If this spot works, feel free to—get ready, I suppose, move anything you need to. I'll be quick.
[And he will, just give him a few minutes to dart through to the back of the house where his room is and find a Nice Button-Down and return. It's, shockingly, off-white instead of grey. He had to unbutton the cuff of the one sleeve for his ridiculous squid arm, but it's Not a Hoodie.]
[She spreads out the waistcoat and the coat, smoothing her hand over them to try and deal with wrinkles. She'll have to figure out ironing at some point...
When he returns she smiles lightly at him and gets to work putting the clothes on him, pausing only briefly to consider the tentacle arm. She might need to loosen one of the sleeves for him a bit...
Actually, all of it is just a bit too big, which is a relief. She can work with that as she circles him, pinching the fabric to draw it tighter and make note of where she needs to bring it in.]
It's easier to take it in than it would be to let it out. [She clasps her hands together behind her back, looking him up and down, and then gives a pleased nod] This green looks good on you. Do you like it? Does it bother your-- [Hmmm] Tentacle?
[Palamedes is patient and not even fidgety while she dresses him, even helpfully wrapping his tentacle limbs around themselves to get them through the sleeve more easily. He's not sure how it's all supposed to fit; baggy is a default for him, especially given the tall-and-thin-ness of his frame, so this seems... fine?
But she says it has to be taken in, so he supposes it does. She's the expert. He considers himself with a hum.]
It's heavier than I thought it would be—that's not a complaint. And I do like the green.
[does it bother your tentacle jesus christ]
It's comfortable, really. The lining is just smooth enough.
[She listens carefully and then smiles, pleased that he likes it.]
I can take it in here. [She considers just leaving it on him while she does, but she does her best work when she can sit and get closer to the fabric, so. She sits. Right on the floor, getting comfortable] Hand me them please.
[She's started carrying her little kit around with her just for such cases of emergency seamstress-ing! She waits expectantly.]
[He's extra careful in taking both the pieces off, because it really is the nicest outfit he's ever had access too, and he's worried that his clumsy basic boy hand (and tentacles) will immediately tear something. So: delicate.
He passes them over and then moves to perch on the arm of the couch, so neither of them know how to sit, really.]
You wanted to talk about grim things, if I recall. [Brightly, because hell yeah, lay it on him.]
[Well, she'll get to it when she gets to it; he watches her work in the meantime, waiting.
Aha.]
To die, in the precise moment? Nothing, really. All the feeling comes from whatever you were doing beforehand. Death just... isn't; it's like someone turns off the lights, but in you.
[A beat.]
But before the second before that, it was searing.
Oh—yes. Back home. They've put me back to rights here, obviously.
[Somehow, miraculously. He's assumed they must have nabbed a piece of his bones and then not thought about it too hard, lest he convince himself something more sinister is at work.]
So I'm trying to make the most of it here. You know, despite everything.
It's complicated to explain, but the short version is I exploded.
[Ahem. He could go on about thanergy reserves, but that wouldn't answer much without the accompanying academic lecture, so he won't.]
And if you mean like this, with a heartbeat and all... No, probably not. My cavalier was carrying my soul around, a task I will never be capable of fully repaying. I could interact with the world sometimes, but I was still dead.
[Well, she doesn't quite get what carrying around his soul is supposed to look like, she can't really wrap her head around that, but. Still.]
I apologize if I've brought up something painful. [A brief pause and then she adds:] But I'm glad all the same that you are here alive again.
[She falls quiet then for a good minute or two before she states:] I'm going to die. [A beat] I suppose all of us will, at one point or another. But back home the Stranger--Death--looms closer to us all. I suppose I'm thinking of it more right now.
[Don't worry about it, it's an undocumented field anyway-- He shakes his head, though.]
It's no problem; I haven't been advertising it, but I've told a few people. I'm glad to have people know.
[It's strange; he'd still spent more time as a disembodied soul than he's spent in this city, but it feels so much further away. So it's one less burden to carry around, when his friends here know about it—it feels less horrifying, somehow, to share it.]
[She nods, acknowledging that. Well, at least it's helping rather than hurting too much.]
I don't know the exact date and time. But I've seen it, in my dreams. Flying, falling. Into spikes. I don't look very much older. So I suspect it's sooner rather than later.
[He can only imagine, just to get people to believe it in the first place must be agonizing. After a moment he slides off the arm of the couch to join her on the floor.]
[It takes another minute as she slowly resumes her stitching]
My brother visited me in a dream not long ago. Before he arrived, I dreamed of my son's death. I was stitching his head back to his neck. [She has to pause then to wait for her hands to stop shaking.] Then I grabbed my daughter and was running. It reminded me that being here won't stop the future. My son will die. And I will throw myself from a tower in my grief, at some point.
[Helaena quiets and sets her things down on her lap again, shoulders straightening as she stares at a fixed point on the wall opposite her.] ...I want my time here to be peaceful and full of good memories. Perhaps it might grant an exception and I will live longer back home. Perhaps it won't. But at least when I die I can remember these times when my life flashes before my eyes as they say it does.
[she was whatting his what to his WHERE oh my god, he wasn't ready-]
I hope you have many peaceful years ahead of you, then, wherever they are. [Does it feel right to say "even if it's here"? Not really; he's dead, he perfectly understands how this place is the better option for many of them, despite the uncomfortable things that happen to the Augmented more often than not. So, no: just the hope for a peaceful life.] May we live in uninteresting times.
[A beat.]
I should ask, and feel free to tell me to stay on my side, but would you like a hug?
[It’s a nice sentiment. She knows better than to believe it will last forever, here or otherwise, but it’s nice to think of all the same. She appreciates it.
His offer makes her head snap up and face him, expression briefly baffled.] I… [At least she doesn’t seem offended or put off by the offer, just… realizing no one’s really asked before. Most just ignored her discomfort and no one knew what to do with grief. It’s touching, no pun intended.
She has to think about it though, before coming to the conclusion that she wouldn’t mind it at all. I think I’d like that very much, actually. [Helaena admits it into the air, unable to take it back and finding she doesn’t feel the desire to. A hug would be nice. A hug from Pal would be nicer; she likes him. He answers her questions and doesn’t call her bugs gross or creepy (to her face, at least) and hansn’t let Aemond scare him away. He can be polite enough that maybe even Alicent might like him in short bursts, but it doesn’t do to think of these things anyhow.
Helaena sets her sewing to the side so no one gets poked with a rouge needle and opens her arms willingly]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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You don't dress up for formal occasions? [Helaena eyes him curiously, before looking down at the clothes in her arms, considering. They're definitely more fancy than most would wear around here just for everyday wear.]
These might be a bit much, but...I think they'd suit you. I don't have your exact measurements so I need to see how they look on you now so I know what needs to be taken in or let out. [She unfurls the vest and coat for him]
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[This he explains as he shuts the door and follows her back into the living room. Should he have dressed up, as the Master Warden? Possibly! But the Sixth has never been known for their diehard dedication to uniform or public formality, and anyway, that ship has sailed.
Anyway: oh, that's probably the fanciest thing he's ever seen outside of some of the Third House fashion he's dimly familiar with...]
Are you sure? For me?
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...Our house colors are black and red. But... my mother's color is green. We've all started wearing it more, separating us from my half-sister's family. Dragons of green and dragons of black.
Since we've imprinted somewhat on each other, I thought it might help to deepen it by showing that you're aligned with my family.
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Oh—no, that makes sense. You'll just have to show me how to wear them properly.
[How to carry himself in very fine clothes, and so on; right now he's in the Karterian equivalent of a hoodie and jeans, he needs help.]
So, I should try these on? I'll have to fetch a nicer shirt, first.
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[Anything nicer than like the equiv of a hoodie anyhow]
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If this spot works, feel free to—get ready, I suppose, move anything you need to. I'll be quick.
[And he will, just give him a few minutes to dart through to the back of the house where his room is and find a Nice Button-Down and return. It's, shockingly, off-white instead of grey. He had to unbutton the cuff of the one sleeve for his ridiculous squid arm, but it's Not a Hoodie.]
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When he returns she smiles lightly at him and gets to work putting the clothes on him, pausing only briefly to consider the tentacle arm. She might need to loosen one of the sleeves for him a bit...
Actually, all of it is just a bit too big, which is a relief. She can work with that as she circles him, pinching the fabric to draw it tighter and make note of where she needs to bring it in.]
It's easier to take it in than it would be to let it out. [She clasps her hands together behind her back, looking him up and down, and then gives a pleased nod] This green looks good on you. Do you like it? Does it bother your-- [Hmmm] Tentacle?
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But she says it has to be taken in, so he supposes it does. She's the expert. He considers himself with a hum.]
It's heavier than I thought it would be—that's not a complaint. And I do like the green.
[does it bother your tentacle jesus christ]
It's comfortable, really. The lining is just smooth enough.
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I can take it in here. [She considers just leaving it on him while she does, but she does her best work when she can sit and get closer to the fabric, so. She sits. Right on the floor, getting comfortable] Hand me them please.
[She's started carrying her little kit around with her just for such cases of emergency seamstress-ing! She waits expectantly.]
And maybe we can talk while I work.
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[He's extra careful in taking both the pieces off, because it really is the nicest outfit he's ever had access too, and he's worried that his clumsy basic boy hand (and tentacles) will immediately tear something. So: delicate.
He passes them over and then moves to perch on the arm of the couch, so neither of them know how to sit, really.]
You wanted to talk about grim things, if I recall. [Brightly, because hell yeah, lay it on him.]
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Yes.
[But she says nothing more for another long minute or two as she threads her needle and starts her work.]
What does it feel like to die?
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Aha.]
To die, in the precise moment? Nothing, really. All the feeling comes from whatever you were doing beforehand. Death just... isn't; it's like someone turns off the lights, but in you.
[A beat.]
But before the second before that, it was searing.
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Have you died before?
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[Somehow, miraculously. He's assumed they must have nabbed a piece of his bones and then not thought about it too hard, lest he convince himself something more sinister is at work.]
So I'm trying to make the most of it here. You know, despite everything.
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[Was he going to just...stay dead back home? He'd told her about necromancy, so--] Would you have come back, back home?
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[Ahem. He could go on about thanergy reserves, but that wouldn't answer much without the accompanying academic lecture, so he won't.]
And if you mean like this, with a heartbeat and all... No, probably not. My cavalier was carrying my soul around, a task I will never be capable of fully repaying. I could interact with the world sometimes, but I was still dead.
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[Well, she doesn't quite get what carrying around his soul is supposed to look like, she can't really wrap her head around that, but. Still.]
I apologize if I've brought up something painful. [A brief pause and then she adds:] But I'm glad all the same that you are here alive again.
[She falls quiet then for a good minute or two before she states:] I'm going to die. [A beat] I suppose all of us will, at one point or another. But back home the Stranger--Death--looms closer to us all. I suppose I'm thinking of it more right now.
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It's no problem; I haven't been advertising it, but I've told a few people. I'm glad to have people know.
[It's strange; he'd still spent more time as a disembodied soul than he's spent in this city, but it feels so much further away. So it's one less burden to carry around, when his friends here know about it—it feels less horrifying, somehow, to share it.]
You know when you're going to die?
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I don't know the exact date and time. But I've seen it, in my dreams. Flying, falling. Into spikes. I don't look very much older. So I suspect it's sooner rather than later.
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[So, he has questions, let him mentally sort through them for a moment--]
Do your dreams always come true?
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...Yes. My dreams have never been wrong.
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[He can only imagine, just to get people to believe it in the first place must be agonizing. After a moment he slides off the arm of the couch to join her on the floor.]
Why are you thinking of it now?
cw: suicide mentions
My brother visited me in a dream not long ago. Before he arrived, I dreamed of my son's death. I was stitching his head back to his neck. [She has to pause then to wait for her hands to stop shaking.] Then I grabbed my daughter and was running. It reminded me that being here won't stop the future. My son will die. And I will throw myself from a tower in my grief, at some point.
[Helaena quiets and sets her things down on her lap again, shoulders straightening as she stares at a fixed point on the wall opposite her.] ...I want my time here to be peaceful and full of good memories. Perhaps it might grant an exception and I will live longer back home. Perhaps it won't. But at least when I die I can remember these times when my life flashes before my eyes as they say it does.
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I hope you have many peaceful years ahead of you, then, wherever they are. [Does it feel right to say "even if it's here"? Not really; he's dead, he perfectly understands how this place is the better option for many of them, despite the uncomfortable things that happen to the Augmented more often than not. So, no: just the hope for a peaceful life.] May we live in uninteresting times.
[A beat.]
I should ask, and feel free to tell me to stay on my side, but would you like a hug?
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His offer makes her head snap up and face him, expression briefly baffled.] I… [At least she doesn’t seem offended or put off by the offer, just… realizing no one’s really asked before. Most just ignored her discomfort and no one knew what to do with grief. It’s touching, no pun intended.
She has to think about it though, before coming to the conclusion that she wouldn’t mind it at all. I think I’d like that very much, actually. [Helaena admits it into the air, unable to take it back and finding she doesn’t feel the desire to. A hug would be nice. A hug from Pal would be nicer; she likes him. He answers her questions and doesn’t call her bugs gross or creepy (to her face, at least) and hansn’t let Aemond scare him away. He can be polite enough that maybe even Alicent might like him in short bursts, but it doesn’t do to think of these things anyhow.
Helaena sets her sewing to the side so no one gets poked with a rouge needle and opens her arms willingly]
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