[ If there is any romantic bone metal gear in his metallic body, it's in desperate need of some fine-tuning. Somnus continues with their walk.
This isn't a song he knows, but the words the flowers sing imply that the lovers of the song are, well, very much enamored. It has a folkish tune, telling a story not unlike that of the the star-crossed lovers before.
...He does seem to notice her discomfort, however. ] ...Perhaps we should wander elsewhere.
[ And now the flowers are starting to sing about going somewhere private and alone. OOh oooh~ scandalous etc ]
( she moves a bit stiffly, maybe struggling a bit to keep her thoughts pure, no thanks to the whimsical lyrics that surround them as they move on... to the next fork in the road. )
You pick this time.
( the direction, she means. and while she waits for him to make a selection, shionne glanced somewhere off to the side again. )
You've... always been really supportive in the time I've known you, Somnus. Do you have any— you know... experience with... relationships?
( did suits of armour have feelings? alphen's were always so intense, but there was a man hidden underneath it. somnus on the other hand... )
[ He opts to take them down a diverging path, that of one shaded by blossoming willows. Tiny, white petals flutter like the first snow of winter around them, but unlike ice, the blossoms linger upon their path, waking in the wind.
...And it continues like this as they walk. The quietness of spring around them echoes after her question, and perhaps, just perhaps it makes his extended silence in response more bearable.
It takes Somnus quite some time to answer, and when he does, it's with overwhelming reticence, the reluctance of divulging something long past-- or in this case, long gone. ]
I had a queen.
[ At the same time, it has been, perhaps, millennia since he's ever spoken of her. ]
( the branches of the willow drown out the lingering song as they leave that path behind them, the falling petals instead sticking in her hair as they continue along. it's not that she minds the silence that draws in around them, but there is a quick flick of her blue eyes in his direction, right about the time he finally answered.
her brow hoists upwards, quiet herself for a moment, before finally coming up with a gentle, but prodding: )
[ His helm remains facing forward as they walk, strides steady as he speaks. ]
We have both since passed.
[ He had made her a widow, but now he is very much a widower himself. There is something both respectful and distant in the way he speaks of her, as if while attached to the memory, it is simultaneously untouchable for how long ago it had been. Remnants remain enough that a deeper sort of emotion reverbs within his voice, but not so much as to break the steel within. ]
You ask of our relationship. It was something… cherished.
( her gaze drops, hearing that, lingering on the ground and the petals that gently settle there, at his feet. her ears strain to try and make sense of the slight change in cadence the once-king uses... but its lost on her otherwise emotionally stunted senses.
she chalks it up to grief, giving a sympathetic, slow nod. )
I'm sorry. I— don't imagine there's easy about losing someone you cherish. Or being lost to them...
( she has no experience herself, but... it just so happens to be the fear she's wrestling with these days. )
( she understands, but— doesn't at the same time. how many years would have to pass to dampen the pain that losing someone you cherished? how could the void that they left ever heal over...? maybe this was why... it was simpler to just cut yourself off from the world, wholesale... )
Time heals all wounds, is that it? Only... they never tell you about the scars it leaves behind.
[ The cautions of adoration and admiration can be found within both songs and stories that tell of loss or tragedy. It is, of course, one thing to hear of such things than to experience it. The flowers have yet to sing of the great pains of losing a loved one can cause; nevertheless, Somnus turns his helm in her direction.
She speaks of potential scars.
He speaks with his hollow voice clad in steel despite the romanticism of the topic: ]
In matters of the heart, one prays for mercy. [ The burden upon his words reflects in a more serious tone as if cautioning her. No one is without scars, and he comments not on his own or whatever she may bear, herself. ] But know this, O Maiden: if one loves, then they are worth loving regardless.
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no subject
bonemetal gear in his metallic body, it's in desperate need of some fine-tuning. Somnus continues with their walk.This isn't a song he knows, but the words the flowers sing imply that the lovers of the song are, well, very much enamored. It has a folkish tune, telling a story not unlike that of the the star-crossed lovers before.
...He does seem to notice her discomfort, however. ] ...Perhaps we should wander elsewhere.
[ And now the flowers are starting to sing about going somewhere private and alone. OOh oooh~ scandalous etc ]
no subject
You pick this time.
( the direction, she means.
and while she waits for him to make a selection, shionne glanced somewhere off to the side again. )
You've... always been really supportive in the time I've known you, Somnus. Do you have any— you know... experience with... relationships?
( did suits of armour have feelings?
alphen's were always so intense, but there was a man hidden underneath it. somnus on the other hand... )
no subject
...And it continues like this as they walk. The quietness of spring around them echoes after her question, and perhaps, just perhaps it makes his extended silence in response more bearable.
It takes Somnus quite some time to answer, and when he does, it's with overwhelming reticence, the reluctance of divulging something long past-- or in this case, long gone. ]
I had a queen.
[ At the same time, it has been, perhaps, millennia since he's ever spoken of her. ]
no subject
it's not that she minds the silence that draws in around them, but there is a quick flick of her blue eyes in his direction, right about the time he finally answered.
her brow hoists upwards, quiet herself for a moment, before finally coming up with a gentle, but prodding: )
Had...?
no subject
We have both since passed.
[ He had made her a widow, but now he is very much a widower himself. There is something both respectful and distant in the way he speaks of her, as if while attached to the memory, it is simultaneously untouchable for how long ago it had been. Remnants remain enough that a deeper sort of emotion reverbs within his voice, but not so much as to break the steel within. ]
You ask of our relationship. It was something… cherished.
no subject
she chalks it up to grief, giving a sympathetic, slow nod. )
I'm sorry. I— don't imagine there's easy about losing someone you cherish. Or being lost to them...
( she has no experience herself, but... it just so happens to be the fear she's wrestling with these days. )
no subject
One may never know when the other may pass.
[ Answering her question hadn’t been him seeing sympathy, but rather to emphasize the importance of cherishing a loved one. ]
However, the passage of time is a salve.
no subject
( she understands, but— doesn't at the same time.
how many years would have to pass to dampen the pain that losing someone you cherished? how could the void that they left ever heal over...?
maybe this was why... it was simpler to just cut yourself off from the world, wholesale... )
Time heals all wounds, is that it? Only... they never tell you about the scars it leaves behind.
no subject
She speaks of potential scars.
He speaks with his hollow voice clad in steel despite the romanticism of the topic: ]
In matters of the heart, one prays for mercy. [ The burden upon his words reflects in a more serious tone as if cautioning her. No one is without scars, and he comments not on his own or whatever she may bear, herself. ] But know this, O Maiden: if one loves, then they are worth loving regardless.