[It's debatable whether he actually wants to see anyone at all, for however long it's possible -- but that runs up against the fact that he can't stay away from the dorm forever, nor does he particularly want to wander the rest of the school for too long. So perhaps, in the end, this is where he settles.
It's fairly late when Elan gets in, and a shower is sorely needed, but afterward he'll settle himself by the fireplace. For once he'll light it if it's unlit; anyone wandering downstairs will find him curled up with a couple of pillows next to it and a book or two nearby, presumably for moral support.
Some warmth is welcome after the trial, even if it's got him nodding off a bit.]
[Dehya doesn't return immediately after the trial, but she is back before Elan is.
She comes down after a moment, when he's settled in downstairs. There's no point in asking if he's okay right now. She figures he'll talk about it when he's ready.
Instead she points next to where he's sitting.] This seat taken?
[He blinks himself awake again -- he's not sure where any possible dreams were going, but it's probably a good thing he didn't fall asleep immediately.
He'll sit up a little straighter, pillow squashed in his hands. It's time to play: will he start falling asleep again first or will the pillow explode first. So far the pillow and Dehya are winning.]
... No. There's plenty of room.
[He'll shift himself and his books a little while he's at it.]
... I was looking for classics, but they don't seem to have many of those.
[Which is kind of ironic, given the aesthetic and the architecture and the sheer traditionalist framework of the place -- the trappings of what should be time-worn tales borne out solely by questionable accounts of history and religious texts, which are theoretically readable but maybe not what he's after at the moment, for once. And the fairy tales. Those are what more-or-less populate the pile he's currently not quite reading.
Horror takes on the tales, to be more specific. At least a few of them appear to feature either shadow monsters or too many limbs. This is definitely a good way to get to sleep.]
Maybe we're expected to go to the theatre for the rest.
[Given they've just come from the Grand Theater not that long ago who knows if that's meant to be ironic or not. He says it pretty noncommittally, a bit drowsy still.]
[What is a classic here? Dehya would assume stuff like stories from Mondstadt, given the architecture.
She picks up one of the horror books, expression sinking a little.] Don't know if the plays they put on are much different. You, uh... like scary stories?
[As much as the trial itself was chaotic, one might be surprised at the sheer rambunctiousness of féerie plays as inflicted on the viewer with a certain violence of special effect and mise-en-scène -- which might be why many of the Troupe have likely not explored too far into their theatrical offerings. He himself hasn't spent too much time on it.
But problem dramas aside, Elan just watches her poke around and evaluate the books without any particular change in expression.]
The fairy tales are more interesting this way. But it's still the usual story, so I wouldn't call it scary.
[Quite aside from whatever the dorm is doing, or whatever their local library is doing, almost every library or repository or data center he's been privy to has had their own versions of these tales; and that's assuming there are tales in common in the first place.
Something just as strange as anything else, when it comes down to it.
It's alternatively reassuring and irritating.]
I was just doing some research. [maybe it's distraction that has him simply not addressing the question, maybe not] Would it surprise you to learn that some worlds treat these as more true than others?
[ He can't provide any warmth, but he floats on over to gently rest on his shoulder.
APPLe doesn't say anything either. At least, not for the time being. He was worried this would have happened, but children will be children no matter what they've gone through with underdeveloped brains.
For now, roosting here is what this apple will do and hopefully rest in a comfortable silence. ]
[An apple's worth of weight is still a relatively solid weight, at the end of the day. Maybe this is what it feels like to have a bird perched on your shoulder, without the volume of feathers or the noise; the quiet is welcome. Amethyst isn't a loud dorm, but it's strangely lived in, in a way that Peil wasn't.
At least, his wing of Peil wasn't.
Elan tilts his head a little while APPle settles, readjusting his posture to compensate. They can sit in silence for a little while, though he does speak up not long after.]
He was giving you looks like he wanted to bite you, you know. Gabimaru. [he certainly noticed, and the flatness of his voice underlines it] What happened?
[If one were to be realistic about it -- trusting objects here, in a place fair rotted through with every trope and trifle of fairy tales and tall tales and perhaps any other type of tale you could ever imagine, might be even less advisable than usual. But, just as one would feel obliged to trust the food (though he wouldn't say this aloud at this point), one becomes used to the trappings of one's dorm.
Step by step and little by little; and in the end the apple has proven more sensible than half the faculty. Not a tall order, but all the same.]
But it seemed even more than that -- there was at least some killing intent. [which perhaps was the oddest part of all] I wouldn't suggest going to visit him.
[He'd been at the kitchenette when Elan returned, but Louis doesn't make his presence obvious until the light of the fireplace suffuses the first floor. Carrying a pair of steaming mugs, he places one down by Elan with a quiet clack before he seats himself a short distance away and opens up one of the fairy tale books.
He doesn't say anything, or at least when it comes to initiating conversation--but he'll stay there as long as he needs to, aside from the times where he shuffles back into the kitchenette to refill their tea.]
[Oh. The steam from the mug reminds him suddenly that food is an obligation too, though he doesn't rise to meet it just now. The days at Asticassia were predictable: waking up, keeping himself fed, keeping the school satisfied, keeping Peil quiet. Moving through the motions. Even here: waking up, keeping himself fed, keeping the school satisfied. Perhaps they're moving through the motions prescribed by the Dramaturge, or someone else.
Somewhere in the chaos of the past couple of days, predictability and many other things had fallen by the wayside.
He sips the steaming beverage while listening to the turning of pages, and eventually -- after he's settled himself and put down the mug again -- is lulled back into his doze. It's not long after that that he sits back up abruptly; it happens a lot, waking suddenly, though most of the time he just knocks himself slightly against his box bed before coming down here. His gaze wanders over to where he last saw Louis. Is he still there?]
[He is indeed still there--late nights weren't uncommon when he had been engrossed in his research, and that habit hadn't been stamped out of him yet. However, the sudden movement at the corner of his eye gets him to look up from the pages to glance over, inadvertently meeting that gaze.]
You're awake.
[There's an undercurrent of surprise in there as he scrutinizes the State of the Elan, but he doesn't quite move just yet although he does lower the book onto the armrest.]
[Instead of dropping off back into the pillow and the lull of the lowering fire he stretches out on his front, peering at where Louis is still settled. Uninterrupted sleep is not particularly a thing but that's probably true of many people in this tower nowadays. Considering everything.
His stare is thoughtful, if still a little blurred by the nap.
After a few moments of deliberation and without any particular preamble:]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
W1 post-trial
It's fairly late when Elan gets in, and a shower is sorely needed, but afterward he'll settle himself by the fireplace. For once he'll light it if it's unlit; anyone wandering downstairs will find him curled up with a couple of pillows next to it and a book or two nearby, presumably for moral support.
Some warmth is welcome after the trial, even if it's got him nodding off a bit.]
no subject
She comes down after a moment, when he's settled in downstairs. There's no point in asking if he's okay right now. She figures he'll talk about it when he's ready.
Instead she points next to where he's sitting.] This seat taken?
no subject
He'll sit up a little straighter, pillow squashed in his hands. It's time to play: will he start falling asleep again first or will the pillow explode first. So far the pillow and Dehya are winning.]
... No. There's plenty of room.
[He'll shift himself and his books a little while he's at it.]
no subject
no subject
[Which is kind of ironic, given the aesthetic and the architecture and the sheer traditionalist framework of the place -- the trappings of what should be time-worn tales borne out solely by questionable accounts of history and religious texts, which are theoretically readable but maybe not what he's after at the moment, for once. And the fairy tales. Those are what more-or-less populate the pile he's currently not quite reading.
Horror takes on the tales, to be more specific. At least a few of them appear to feature either shadow monsters or too many limbs. This is definitely a good way to get to sleep.]
Maybe we're expected to go to the theatre for the rest.
[Given they've just come from the Grand Theater not that long ago who knows if that's meant to be ironic or not. He says it pretty noncommittally, a bit drowsy still.]
no subject
She picks up one of the horror books, expression sinking a little.] Don't know if the plays they put on are much different. You, uh... like scary stories?
no subject
[As much as the trial itself was chaotic, one might be surprised at the sheer rambunctiousness of féerie plays as inflicted on the viewer with a certain violence of special effect and mise-en-scène -- which might be why many of the Troupe have likely not explored too far into their theatrical offerings. He himself hasn't spent too much time on it.
But problem dramas aside, Elan just watches her poke around and evaluate the books without any particular change in expression.]
The fairy tales are more interesting this way. But it's still the usual story, so I wouldn't call it scary.
no subject
no subject
[Quite aside from whatever the dorm is doing, or whatever their local library is doing, almost every library or repository or data center he's been privy to has had their own versions of these tales; and that's assuming there are tales in common in the first place.
Something just as strange as anything else, when it comes down to it.
It's alternatively reassuring and irritating.]
I was just doing some research. [maybe it's distraction that has him simply not addressing the question, maybe not] Would it surprise you to learn that some worlds treat these as more true than others?
no subject
APPLe doesn't say anything either. At least, not for the time being. He was worried this would have happened, but children will be children no matter what they've gone through with underdeveloped brains.
For now, roosting here is what this apple will do and hopefully rest in a comfortable silence. ]
no subject
At least, his wing of Peil wasn't.
Elan tilts his head a little while APPle settles, readjusting his posture to compensate. They can sit in silence for a little while, though he does speak up not long after.]
He was giving you looks like he wanted to bite you, you know. Gabimaru. [he certainly noticed, and the flatness of his voice underlines it] What happened?
no subject
Though, I suppose it isn't surprising not to trust a sentient fruit that you've barely met before.
no subject
[If one were to be realistic about it -- trusting objects here, in a place fair rotted through with every trope and trifle of fairy tales and tall tales and perhaps any other type of tale you could ever imagine, might be even less advisable than usual. But, just as one would feel obliged to trust the food (though he wouldn't say this aloud at this point), one becomes used to the trappings of one's dorm.
Step by step and little by little; and in the end the apple has proven more sensible than half the faculty. Not a tall order, but all the same.]
But it seemed even more than that -- there was at least some killing intent. [which perhaps was the oddest part of all] I wouldn't suggest going to visit him.
no subject
He doesn't say anything, or at least when it comes to initiating conversation--but he'll stay there as long as he needs to, aside from the times where he shuffles back into the kitchenette to refill their tea.]
no subject
Somewhere in the chaos of the past couple of days, predictability and many other things had fallen by the wayside.
He sips the steaming beverage while listening to the turning of pages, and eventually -- after he's settled himself and put down the mug again -- is lulled back into his doze. It's not long after that that he sits back up abruptly; it happens a lot, waking suddenly, though most of the time he just knocks himself slightly against his box bed before coming down here. His gaze wanders over to where he last saw Louis. Is he still there?]
no subject
You're awake.
[There's an undercurrent of surprise in there as he scrutinizes the State of the Elan, but he doesn't quite move just yet although he does lower the book onto the armrest.]
...Were you able to get some rest?
no subject
[Instead of dropping off back into the pillow and the lull of the lowering fire he stretches out on his front, peering at where Louis is still settled. Uninterrupted sleep is not particularly a thing but that's probably true of many people in this tower nowadays. Considering everything.
His stare is thoughtful, if still a little blurred by the nap.
After a few moments of deliberation and without any particular preamble:]
Do you remember what you dream about?