poly_chromatic | (no subject)

[She can be, though there's still usually an almost involved.

He pours. Her glass, then his, held between his knees.]

I wasn't going to buy you a ring.

[She takes a sip.]

I never thought you would.

[The 'never' hangs for a minute - and it's not something he has to correct, he understands that, but still there's an odd part of him that could almost argue.]

Of course.

Mokole and Bastet are allergic to gold.

[Oddest segue ever.]

[Hi, used to it by now. He's following.]

The cat goddess?

No, the breed.

Like Celina. My sister.

So you don't wear it to avoid contact.

Yes. It will burn them, they can't heal it.

Do you have any allergies?

[yes, he knows what he's asking, and no, he doesn't really expect her to share weak spots - he knows enough of them.]

Outside of what you can eat.

No.

Werewolves are allergic to silver.

[That's why she practically drips in it]

That one's common to my world, at least in the movies.

Edited 2012-12-18 17:55 (UTC)

Well, it's because it's true.

[She goes to her vanity and pulls out a box.]

So consider this a preventative measure.

[Inside are a pair of silver cuff links]

[Well, he takes the little box but he's not looking entirely thrilled. Not the reverse, either. Just a little unsure.]

At this rate you're going to have me in a mix of armour and bubble wrap by February.

[And he's not overlooking the fact that her protection means something.]

It wouldn't match.

[She leans over again and presses a kiss to the corner of his mouth]

I'd simply rather you have the ability to protect yourself at least a little.

[It softens his disapproval, but still.]

By putting my hands up and begging them not to eat me? [There's a little mime to go with this.] There are vampires here, too. You're not stringing me with garlic.

Vampires are easier.

[She sits down next to him]

And some of them are allergic to silver, too.

I've met some dangerous creatures I like. [He's tucking the little box into his breast pocket for now, there's no sense putting the cufflinks on something destined to be laundry.] What then?

I don't know. What then?

[She tucks her legs up to her chest]

Potentially, I piss them off with toxic jewellery.

[And he'll wear the cufflinks anyway, but not for self-defence.]

I know I'm only human. I know that makes me a prey species in your book. But if I chose to start being afraid of everything here stronger or more inclined to eat people than I am, then I wouldn't have time left in the day.

I don't think of you as prey.

[If that makes any difference]

[He'd ask if the same applies to the rest of his species but a different question raises itself as more interesting.]

What do you think of me as?

Someone who makes me feel...something.

[And that makes him different. Not prey.]

[He kisses her so she won't notice that he still doesn't know the right thing to do with that. And because kissing her never feels like the wrong thing.]

I'll wear them, and keep a distance from anyone who yelps when I shake their hand.

[She holds onto his face with her hands, her own rings warm against skin]

You don't owe me anything.

[She collects debt, hoards it, this release of it, this admission, it is the most valuable thing she can think to give him]

You don't have to wear them.

[He reaches up, curling his hands around her forearms and sliding the loop of his fingers down to circle both wrists. He rests his forehead against hers rather than pull back to reply.]

I don't want you to worry.

[That she frets, in her own way, is still revelatory.]