exsilium | voice; forward dated to past midnight (action open to anyone around?)

voice; forward dated to past midnight (action open to anyone around?)

( there's a slight sound of rustling after the feed clicks on, as oz makes himself more comfortable on a seat in the observatory. why he's there late at night — night by circadian rhythms, anyway, simulated nights on the moon — is anyone's guess, or maybe it's obvious enough. in any case, when he speaks up a moment later, he sounds to be in a good enough mood. )

What's your favorite story? Scary ones are probably best for late at night, but what I really want to hear about are everyone's favorites. For instance, something about a princess and a dragon, or maybe a mystery with a twist ending, or something out of history....ah, if you make it up or adapt it from a book, that's fine too! Or even if it's a real one that's happened to someone you know, ( and a light laugh ) — don't worry, I don't tell anyone!

But it's rude to ask without giving my own preference, right? I can start with mine, if anyone wants.

( he'll tell people about holy knight. all about it!!!! don't ask him about it. )

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In your eyes, it is.

That's why you felt it impossible to get worse.

( — oh. there's a surprised exhale at that.

because of course her logic is perfectly sound but that's not a way he would've thought to articulate the sentiment — how he's been feeling — even to himself, and for a second he's almost inclined to balk. haven't there been worse times?

have there?

it's not wholly unfamiliar, the feeling of having been seen through like a pane of clear glass — part of a liar's territory, perhaps — but it feels like the first time in some time it's caught him so off-guard. )

( maybe because this time even he wasn't aware of what he was hiding. )

...I see. I didn't think of that.

( because, as usual, his own self is still the hardest thing for him to parse through and understand. )

[ in that regard, he's in good company. she has an edge on many: the ability to read, to feel hearts, and the experience to spot the patterns and riddles that disguise those hidden from her. but despite how intimately she can empathize with others, the capabilities of her heart alone frequently elude her.

for all her fronts, and for as much as she might otherwise wish, compassion remains. ]

Nobody would want to.

Even if that's the case...

( it seems like running away to not acknowledge even a mindset that seems melodramatic when phrased the way she put it, when there's not a person not having a hard time right now in some way, when someone has to tell him how he's feeling.

(when he's literally run away from his roommates (friends) and the notion of sleep at all tonight.)

there's another exhale, wry this time. )

...how pathetic.

[ he could mean her, or the idea, or himself, with a line like that. it's not the easiest thing to divine.

(if she has to guess, she thinks it's a disparagement of self. if she knows his type, then...)

but it's a lot of ifs, for a person she all but promised to not help. and she did say she wouldn't pry.

so she has to act on that by not acting. she doesn't disconnect the line, but she doesn't answer, either.

whatever happens here is up to him. ]

( in the end, the feed times out. )

( for a few hours, at least, because what do you say to that? though it seems ridiculous to leave a reply so much later, especially unaware if she's even awake to see or not )

— sorry.

Oz?

[ to confirm the identity, though it's obvious who it is by content alone. nobody else really has a reason to be messaging at something like 3am exsilium-enforced-time, after all.

but clock times mean little to insomnia, and even if she sounds tired, she certainly wasn't asleep. ]

No, it's alright. You don't have to apologize to me. I didn't have any right to say something like that.

No, you were right.

( and she was, really, so he can't be angry; it had nothing to do with being affronted or anything of the sort in the first place. )

It was me that didn't know the right thing to say.

Most don't.

[ even if she doesn't say I'm sorry, apology is clear in her tone. ]

It isn't the sort of thing to say so harshly, uninvited, and it isn't for me to do that here.

[ there's a pause, soft. ]

If you're not... mmm, if you're planning to stay up any longer, maybe...

Do you drink coffee or tea?

It's really fine.

( and he means it; it's better to realize that than not, especially since this whole ordeal really is one in which he wants to take responsibility, not something that comes especially easily to him. )

I wasn't planning on sleeping soon. ( who needs sleep, really! and if there's a touch of dryness when he answers it's because he remembers what happened the last time he had adventures in drinking strong coffee. ) And I usually take tea.

I usually don't. Sleep very often, I mean; I used to drink tea all the time back home. [ even if the inherited tea service was a little melancholic to use... ]

Anyway... if you'd like to continue this, I have some I wouldn't mind sharing. I promise, it's genuine.

[ this is somewhere between a bribe and a peace offering. ]

Well, how can I turn down an offer like that?

( the attempt would be more than enough to mollify him if he needed the placating; the fact that she wants to is more than enough. but he'll not turn down tea or company, especially after the past few days (and weeks and month, and it'll be nice when he can stop thinking after the past — ). stories make a fine companion, for insomnia or otherwise, but a real person is always better. )

I'll meet you in the cafeteria, then.

[ the place is quiet enough at this forced hour, and she's easy enough to find, even if tea isn't quite as easy to make as she anticipated.

with no water in the faucets, bottled has to suffice, and finding some way to boil it is a little tricky with these weird coffeemakers.

(rua, she thinks, would have been able to solve this sort of thing in an instant back in the city, but he hasn't been there with her in a very long time, and a thought like that doesn't help her much now, either.)

but her adventures in absconding from the deliberate nature of missions and smuggling her own comforts serves her well enough now: she greatly doubts that a genuine tea set is among the available dishes in the pantry.

and in the end, the endeavor will prove successful, though it's still a work in progress when oz finally arrives. ]

( the last time he met someone over tea in the cafeteria was only a day before, perhaps at around this same time. that had been coincidence rather than the deliberate intent that takes him there now, and haruka is far better company by far already; this isn't especially difficult by virtue of the fact that she's neither covered in horrific amounts of blood nor possibly a serial killer. the jury's still out on that one.

since he's come directly from the observatory, he still has his tablet in hand — closed — to be put away later, and it's with some subtle relief that he approaches her. he'd gone for a distinct lack of places to go in the base, but it's still his least favorite room. )

Do you need help with that?

( the machine, he means; a few days using it in the ue was plenty long enough for him to become well-acquainted with making tea in it. )

[ (her roommate is pretty weird, there is never any doubt about that.)

the sound of a voice, regardless of familiarity, has her turning with a speed and sharpness of movement that betrays her. her bad side is kept to the counter, her good facing oz.

it's a couple seconds before she answers, averting her intense gaze — before her shoulders relax, ever so slightly, and she ceases looking like startled prey, sizing up its predator for counterattack. ]

... Yeah, I'm still not used to these. [ she gestures, almost lazy; trying to mask her prior surprise. ] I only need to heat up water, not make that... whatever it is they're calling coffee.

( he hardly hesitates, only for the space of time it takes for her to relax. knowing break has acclimated him to being around people with compromised vision, and he's hardly one to blame anyone for being jumpy these days. his half-smile is apologetic, but he doesn't otherwise say anything, moving up to the machine with a measure of being deliberate, trying to not leave her line of sight. )

It's a little hard to figure out at first.

( reaching out a hand to fiddle with some of the settings, switching to something more tea-appropriate )

[ it's not a deliberation he needs to take, strictly speaking; even with her guard (somewhat) lowered, she doesn't allow him to drift back into her blind spot, either. someone unfamiliar with the type wouldn't notice the treatment at all

some don't understand what they can see; others will understand what they can't.

for now, though, she watches his work with the machine — trying to figure out what he's doing, in case it works. (she won't be able to rely on him doing this every time she wants something civilized to drink. ]

They give me the creeps.

( if he notices, he says nothing of it, only shooting her a glance at the comment. )

The machines?

Mmm...

[ she nods twice in a slow motion, keeping her gaze mostly fixed on his hands. ]

I only trust it enough for heating water, because it's impossible to get anything out of the faucets.

( the settings only take another moment to fix, and he drops his hands as the machine starts to generate hot water. )

You're right.

( about both things, really, the faucet and the less than pleasant associations he has with this particular coffeemaker. )

It happens a lot.

[ it's not much of a joke, considering what led to this fairy hour tea party in the first place. in the counter space adjacent to the now-heating machine, she's measuring out dark, dry tea leaves from a small canister into the china teapot. (seriously, does she do anything on missions besides shopping?)

her shrug is apologetic. ]

It'd be nice to be wrong, sometime.

( there's a half-smile earned by that anyway, and he watches with some appreciation the finer things she has to work with. gil and break had brought some nice tea with them, but just the same a regular supply of quite nice tea things is harder to come by. )

Some things are better to be wrong about. With knowing comes having to decide what to do. ( and then, admitted: ) I'm not so good at that, though.

private;

private; 1/2

private; combo combo train

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private; requisite combos

→ action

→ action

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→ action DRAGS SELF BACK TO TAGS

→ action STEPS OUT OF WAY OF ARDUOUS JOURNEY

→ action cries on your shoes

→ action gently pulls up

→ action ;;;