[ The man is so damn good at stringing words together in the best way possible. And she grins at him as a result, slinking towards him until she's perched on the edge of his desk, holding out her hand.]
[ Funnily enough, he wouldn't even pride himself as being particularly poetic. Margo just happens to bring out the softest side of him that he so very rarely shows.
He takes a step forward, towards her. He leans into her space in order to reach for the book sitting at his desk only an arm's length away and then he passes it into her hands. He didn't have to, but already he wants to be in her orbit.
The book itself is leather-bound, very old, and carefully looked after. On the centre of the cover is an embossed print in gold, reading: M. Rothman-Zecher. ]
[ The moment he hands it to her, whatever way he'd managed to fluster her by being close fades into the background as she looks at the book in her hands.
It's old. Very old.
And her brow furrows suddenly at the sight of it. She takes care to inspect it delicately, glancing up at him for a moment.] I've never seen this book before. [ And Margo is a voracious reader.] Where did you get it? It looks antique.
[ And why does he feel guilty about that? As though his friendship with someone outside of the Volary is something to keep hidden, when it has never been the case before. He has been careful, yes, but he's never hidden it.
It's not a secret to Margo or most of the parliament that he isn't a Rook born by blood. He still maintains some contact with a handful of people some might judge him for, but he's never cared much for their opinions anyway. ]
[ She looks up at his face at the way his voice wavers just a tiny bit at the first thing he says, her eye narrowing for a moment. Usually, he says things with unfettered confidence, something that drew her to him at first. Of course, as she grew to knew him more intimately in every sense, she came to see that his confidence was not unwavering.
And her father might be the one who can read minds but she is quite good at reading people herself, after years of practice (and years of practicing at hiding her own true emotions).
She looks down at the book, brow still furrowed as if it's telling her there's something more to it. Suddenly there are two warring factions in her thoughts, one voice tells her she does not want to know, the other voice reminds her that she's in love with him and that she wants to know everything about him, even the bad.
Only part of that is so she can protect him.
She hands the book back to him, her tone careful...] Like what...?
He is careful when he speaks, but he is candid too. He trusts Margo with more of himself than he probably should, but love isn't very logical in most instances. ]
Do you ever think that there could be a better future?
[ There's a sinking feeling settling over her as he reiterates the fact that the book is old. And she almost opens her mouth to ask him how old because that does matter. There's was a time when things were not the way they are now, a time that some people wish they could get back to, that some people think is better. And those type of people are dangerous.
That sensation only gets worse when he asks her a question and the warring factions in her mind return.
Change the subject, steer him away from this.
No, no. Hear him out. Surely he's not thinking of THAT, he's just asking because he's ambitious...
And yet, she cannot stop herself from answering, from wanting to know what is going on in that beautiful head of his. She lets him pull her towards what she thinks might be dangerous ground.
She almost holds her breath after she asks:] What do you mean by "better future"?
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And of course if you'd like, I'll bring it over to you when I'm done
But enough about books, you're free now?
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Yes, I am sunbathing on my balcony.
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Knowing I am so far from you right now
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But I'm done now
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But I know what I would like to do
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Why don't you teleport over here and I can tell you exactly what I'd like to do?
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You summoned me.
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You are magic. [ Beat. ] And a sight to behold.
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Let me see this book that has kept you from me.
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[ Funnily enough, he wouldn't even pride himself as being particularly poetic. Margo just happens to bring out the softest side of him that he so very rarely shows.
He takes a step forward, towards her. He leans into her space in order to reach for the book sitting at his desk only an arm's length away and then he passes it into her hands. He didn't have to, but already he wants to be in her orbit.
The book itself is leather-bound, very old, and carefully looked after. On the centre of the cover is an embossed print in gold, reading: M. Rothman-Zecher. ]
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It's old. Very old.
And her brow furrows suddenly at the sight of it. She takes care to inspect it delicately, glancing up at him for a moment.] I've never seen this book before. [ And Margo is a voracious reader.] Where did you get it? It looks antique.
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[ And why does he feel guilty about that? As though his friendship with someone outside of the Volary is something to keep hidden, when it has never been the case before. He has been careful, yes, but he's never hidden it.
It's not a secret to Margo or most of the parliament that he isn't a Rook born by blood. He still maintains some contact with a handful of people some might judge him for, but he's never cared much for their opinions anyway. ]
He works with books like these.
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And her father might be the one who can read minds but she is quite good at reading people herself, after years of practice (and years of practicing at hiding her own true emotions).
She looks down at the book, brow still furrowed as if it's telling her there's something more to it. Suddenly there are two warring factions in her thoughts, one voice tells her she does not want to know, the other voice reminds her that she's in love with him and that she wants to know everything about him, even the bad.
Only part of that is so she can protect him.
She hands the book back to him, her tone careful...] Like what...?
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[ SΓ©bastien accepts the book, holds it in his hands like it is something precious, and it is. He hasn't told her about the handful of handwritten sentences scattered across its pages, a kind of secret correspondence between him and a man who calls himself 'Joe'. Lessons and bits of inspiration; propaganda even.
It has stirred something in SΓ©bastien's chest, maybe something that's always been there even while he'd been relentless on this path into the Volary, sparked by this month's Quarry.
He is careful when he speaks, but he is candid too. He trusts Margo with more of himself than he probably should, but love isn't very logical in most instances. ]
Do you ever think that there could be a better future?
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That sensation only gets worse when he asks her a question and the warring factions in her mind return.
Change the subject, steer him away from this.
No, no. Hear him out. Surely he's not thinking of THAT, he's just asking because he's ambitious...
And yet, she cannot stop herself from answering, from wanting to know what is going on in that beautiful head of his. She lets him pull her towards what she thinks might be dangerous ground.
She almost holds her breath after she asks:] What do you mean by "better future"?
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