[Hades clucks his tongue in dismay as Hythlodaeus passes the bottle back in his direction. He hardly wants to see so much as a drop of it go to waste, yet at the same time, taking it from him will require him to adjust...and he doesn't wish that overmuch either.]
[He leans a little closer to make his point known, his hands sliding more securely around him - like a petulant child reluctant to let go of a favored toy.]
Stow it away if you're already finished with it. And what, precisely, do you mean by "occasional"?
[The kiss goes some way towards mollifying him, however. Hythlodaeus seems content, and it's enough to ease any lingering annoyance he may feel - feigned or otherwise. He allows his own eyelids to droop - not entirely closed, but enough that what sliver of the world he sees is reduced to the back of Hythlodaeus's head leant against his chest and the curve of one ear just visible amidst those "silver tresses" he so ardently spoke of.]
Pity. I would have thought I was being brilliantly poetic. Yet what more needs to be said? Words would pale by comparison. Shall I describe the way the dappled light dances upon them when they hang in loose waves? How the texture is alike the soft inner edge of a newly unfurled rose petal? The way those flyaway wisps frame your face so exactly? Or mayhap you wish me to detail its fragrance.
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2024-11-07 03:36 pm (UTC)[He leans a little closer to make his point known, his hands sliding more securely around him - like a petulant child reluctant to let go of a favored toy.]
Stow it away if you're already finished with it. And what, precisely, do you mean by "occasional"?
[The kiss goes some way towards mollifying him, however. Hythlodaeus seems content, and it's enough to ease any lingering annoyance he may feel - feigned or otherwise. He allows his own eyelids to droop - not entirely closed, but enough that what sliver of the world he sees is reduced to the back of Hythlodaeus's head leant against his chest and the curve of one ear just visible amidst those "silver tresses" he so ardently spoke of.]
Pity. I would have thought I was being brilliantly poetic. Yet what more needs to be said? Words would pale by comparison. Shall I describe the way the dappled light dances upon them when they hang in loose waves? How the texture is alike the soft inner edge of a newly unfurled rose petal? The way those flyaway wisps frame your face so exactly? Or mayhap you wish me to detail its fragrance.