[ Albedo tilts his head to the side, bedclothes rustling. He's a little paler than Rubedo where he's made their fingers overlap; most of Albedo's life has passed in space, while he imagines Rubedo grew up under some warm sun, synthetic or not but capable of emitting the ultraviolet wavelengths that would darken his skin just slightly. Albedo, of course, could've spent every day in the same places and nothing would change. That's not the point, either.
He realizes all of a sudden that he has no idea what Rubedo's been up to these last fifteen years, having always vindictively satisfied himself with assuming "living a life of blissful ignorance alongside Nigredo" and leaving it at that.
Rubedo's right, really. Why get lost in their shared past? There's so much more waiting just ahead.
Having shifted inward, loosely fetal, head pillowed on his now-retracted arm, he's able to feel the illusory dreamlike warmth of Rubedo's long legs soaking into his knees. He can't read Rubedo's expression from down here, but his hand is back again—the other one this time—curiously examining the first scar he can find on Jr.'s forearm. He couldn't tell you what his own face looks like, either, even if he cared; he's not even sure what this feeling is. It feels bigger than he is, like it could swallow him whole, and it hurts a little, and he likes it. ]
Hey, Rubedo... you went, didn't you? You and Nigredo. [ Greedy, questing; hungry for Jr.'s experiences. ] To the beach?
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branchandroot
gotta get all my gay out in here tbh
Date: 2015-01-03 09:05 am (UTC)He realizes all of a sudden that he has no idea what Rubedo's been up to these last fifteen years, having always vindictively satisfied himself with assuming "living a life of blissful ignorance alongside Nigredo" and leaving it at that.
Rubedo's right, really. Why get lost in their shared past? There's so much more waiting just ahead.
Having shifted inward, loosely fetal, head pillowed on his now-retracted arm, he's able to feel the illusory dreamlike warmth of Rubedo's long legs soaking into his knees. He can't read Rubedo's expression from down here, but his hand is back again—the other one this time—curiously examining the first scar he can find on Jr.'s forearm. He couldn't tell you what his own face looks like, either, even if he cared; he's not even sure what this feeling is. It feels bigger than he is, like it could swallow him whole, and it hurts a little, and he likes it. ]
Hey, Rubedo... you went, didn't you? You and Nigredo. [ Greedy, questing; hungry for Jr.'s experiences. ] To the beach?