[ his gaze drops momentarily to the hand she's laid over his and she can tell he's bracing himself for the next motion. but, she sees the decision fall over his expression, minutely, just as he's turned his hand over to cup her hand in his. a soft smile turns her mouth up and she gives his hand a small squeeze, encouraging–for both the contact and for him to answer her question.
Viago, for better or worse, has always been driven. dedicated, in a way many Crows could stand to emulate. the trade-off is that sometimes, work takes over his entire life, blurring the edges of his personal time or erasing them entirely. it leaves him taut and aloof, the stress sitting all along his slim shoulders. in their recent encounters, she's been trying to get him to relax in a different way. more subtle than before; which was usually just them getting into an argument when he would be distracted while she was trying to kiss him into submission.
for now, she's at least slightly satisfied that he's keeping his focus on the question, lightly teasing her about her new hobby. ]
Tsk, I haven't bled on the shawl. I save that for the practice. [ while she handles knives and other sharp implements with finesse, the small detail work of needles has definitely led her to pricking her fingertips while getting used to the motions. perhaps it's best Viago hasn't been around for her early practice...he might've been very anxious about how many poisons only needed a pinprick to enter the bloodstream.
she decides not to say as much, focusing on the slow sweep of his thumb across her bare palm, letting him have time to form the thought that's clearly sitting on the tip of his tongue. ]
It's resilient, like its primary caretaker.
[ he did survive being bitten by an adder, after all. ]
You'll have to show me, I don't know what starts blooming in Salle this time of year. [ embarrassingly, she's not too familiar with the bloom schedules of a lot of plants–she's been a city girl her whole life. even with the training on poisons in her Fledgling days, she cannot claim to have even a fraction of the knowledge Viago does.
more importantly: she likes to look at his art. he's much better than he thinks. perhaps after all this upheaval, she could convince him to enter some of it into a salon. ]
no subject
Viago, for better or worse, has always been driven. dedicated, in a way many Crows could stand to emulate. the trade-off is that sometimes, work takes over his entire life, blurring the edges of his personal time or erasing them entirely. it leaves him taut and aloof, the stress sitting all along his slim shoulders. in their recent encounters, she's been trying to get him to relax in a different way. more subtle than before; which was usually just them getting into an argument when he would be distracted while she was trying to kiss him into submission.
for now, she's at least slightly satisfied that he's keeping his focus on the question, lightly teasing her about her new hobby. ]
Tsk, I haven't bled on the shawl. I save that for the practice. [ while she handles knives and other sharp implements with finesse, the small detail work of needles has definitely led her to pricking her fingertips while getting used to the motions. perhaps it's best Viago hasn't been around for her early practice...he might've been very anxious about how many poisons only needed a pinprick to enter the bloodstream.
she decides not to say as much, focusing on the slow sweep of his thumb across her bare palm, letting him have time to form the thought that's clearly sitting on the tip of his tongue. ]
It's resilient, like its primary caretaker.
[ he did survive being bitten by an adder, after all. ]
You'll have to show me, I don't know what starts blooming in Salle this time of year. [ embarrassingly, she's not too familiar with the bloom schedules of a lot of plants–she's been a city girl her whole life. even with the training on poisons in her Fledgling days, she cannot claim to have even a fraction of the knowledge Viago does.
more importantly: she likes to look at his art. he's much better than he thinks. perhaps after all this upheaval, she could convince him to enter some of it into a salon. ]