failureisntachoice | Mask or Menance IC Contact Post

[Of all the uses for the link... it had never occurred to him. Sometimes... just sometimes, he could forgive all of the magic and nonsensical lack of rules of this place.]

I would appreciate that greatly.

[And carefully, he pushes down his guards.]

[ She keeps her distance mentally, treating this like a data transfer now that their connection is broadened. First, she sends over a series of photos of Miles, wearing his newly bought swim trunks, and playing on the beach under her watchful eye. It's easy to tell the boy had been a handful, but she didn't let that shorten their trip.

A short clip accompanies it of her helping Miles collect the shells he had so desperately wanted (and shooing him away from the crab he thought he could sneak away with).

It's all neatly packaged and sent to him to open and peruse at his leisure. The only intrusion she holds is to keep the images strong as he goes through them. ]

[He closes his eyes, to sort through them - a wholly human and unnecessary gesture. With her thoughtful privacy, there was no telling what exactly his thoughts were, but there was a growing sensation of contentment that seeped first over the edges of the link, and then on his face.

The stern expression smoothed into something almost younger, an unguarded smile there over pictures of shells and charging at - and away from the tide. He sets his chin on his hands, unconsciously, and sorts through the images slowly. The small clip is met with a simple, breathy laugh here and there...

It's some long moments before they're put aside, his eyes open and the link gently narrows.]

Thank you... It - ah. For myself, he'd just been born. This is.. something I missed by jumping here.

[ She keeps her gaze on Miles, offering Aral what little privacy she can in the physical realm as well. This is a private moment and she hopes whatever reverted things back to normal didn't rob him of the memories he made himself.

The fact that they had even entrusted her with Miles' well-being when he was that small spoke volumes to her. She shakes her head at the thanks. Photos and video were the least she could do while she was with them and the kid. ]

You have that to look forward to when you get back. I'll make sure you and Cordelia both get copies.

Indeed. ... She'll appreciate them, I'm sure.

[He leans back in the hospital chair and putting a hand on the pad she'd handed back, he gestures to the other chair in the room.]

Please.

You want to do it now?

[ Unless he's directing her to sit for some other reason. She eyes him as she takes a seat. ]

[He rubs at his chin.]

I don't insist.

[ She shrugs and leans back in her seat. ]

You're the artist and your shift here is over. It's up to you, I'm not going anywhere.

["Artist" gets a bit of a sidelong glance, followed by a dismissive gesture and pleased sound. After a moment of study to the sketch cramped into the corner... he turns the page for a fresh sheet.]

There's a little to go over anyway. He's a long history of reaction to medications.

[ She nods. That's a list she can easily commit to memory and will serve as a good cross-check if Miles ever needs to be brought in for medical attention again. ]

The doctors have the list too, right?

I wish it were so simple. What we have scarcely matches the medicine of this era, though the classes remain. [Gamely though, he gives those and what in-universe names they'd found to be similar enough.

Gestures over the page, at this point, where large and loose, sketching space and vague shape to being.]

Symptoms will be more of an issue.

[ She dutifully takes notes and stores the information away in a file. It'll be easy to recall should this situation come up again. ]

I bet. Has any form of magical healing caused any problems?

He hadn't mentioned... by the sheer number of healers he has on his list, I would venture not.

I don't know how many of them he's gone through yet. I know he's used Ken before and that new guy of yours that showed up.

Hm. There is another by the name of Lucy, a very sensible lady of stature. I'm not sure if they'd needed more.

... the idea of allergy to magic seems strange, but I suppose it is a rejection all the same. Possible, his very constitution is one of willfullness.

[The frames of the figures roughly sketched, now and then he slides a longer look at Tex, finding the lines of her cheeks, or the shape of her chin, darkening lines in a resemblance.]

[ She snickers at that and occasionally tries to steal a glance at the progress of the sketch. ]

I wouldn't put it past him to find a way. At least he shouldn't be alone if one gets discovered.

[The next time he picks up the pad and resettles it to keep a good angle where his wrist isn't smudging the graphite, it just so happens to settle again in a good angle for her to see.]

Just to be contrary? Hm. I'll say that's Cordelia's side.

[ She smiles faintly as she watches him work. This is the first time she's ever been someone's art subject before. ]

And which part is yours?

His luck, I fancy.

[His style is a bit rough, but not unflattering. It is perhaps interesting where he focuses, the lines of her neck are strong and defined, the lines around her mouth making the smile she's offering Cordelia reserved, perhaps a little nervous. But the posture, the slight lean that both had towards each other was engaged, almost intimate.]

I can see that.

[ She's watching his drawing more closely now and frowns a little at that memory of her expression. God, had she really looked like that? Almost like a damn kid going on a first date. Going out with Cordelia has been some of her best times here and judging by the tone of his drawing, even he could tell that.

She murmurs, ] You remember that well?

[He hesitates on something... the fall of clothes being a particular weakness.. and opts to work on Cordelia, the fall of her hair distinctive...]

Usually... perhaps not. It was striking, though.

Thanks, I guess.

[ She leans forward, elbows resting on her knees, as she watches. Cordelia's figure is coming out beautifully and she smiles as the woman's hair comes to life on the page. ]

You're really okay with all of this between us? [ The question feels sudden, but it's been nagging at the back of her mind since the timelines were shifted around briefly. Rightfully so, Cordelia had been keen on spending more time with her husband and she doubts the reason was kept secret from him. If either even remember. ]

[He honestly hadn't had much more practice with Cordelia, a few proper drawings and a number of quick, wispy sketches. But the details? He had all of those memorized.

The question causes him to still, pencil tip hovering over the surface.]

I thought I should be, at first. After all, it was myself who opened these conversations back home. But I've come to realize that is very different than "is." [He resumes his work, the curve of her smile, focused on the viewer, rather than Tex.]

I am, in truth, quite content with it, now. [There's a pause, a hesitation before a mildly offered.] I begin to see what she finds in you.

[ There's a small sigh of relief and tension that leaves her posture at that confirmation. There's been plenty he could have done to stop or sabotage this if he really wanted to yet he hasn't.

It still feels too good to be true, but she's slowly starting to accept it for what it is. ]

Thanks. [ A beat then, ] I can see what she married you.

Hm. [The wordless sound was speculative, but pleased.

He turns his attention more fully to the picture. The clothes drawn on each fit the form with little attention to folds and shadows, leaving something of empty spaces even with all of the shading. On the other hand, the lines of the walls and the banister leading up are done with a steady, precise hand, even freehand.

It's no quick process, working almost in layers, one after another. Each point where one might have called it complete just seemed to be the bridge to the next.

Until finally, he leans back rubbing his chin (a smear of graphite streaks his cheek and chin, having used his own hands to blend shades here and there.)]

I think... that will do.

[The pages perforated already, the heavy page pulls free of the binding with just a little trial and error.]

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