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Post by Mortimer on Nov 13, 2008 18:19:54 GMT -5
The little man frowned a bit and thumbed at his menu, a slight blush rising under the dark ink on his cheeks.
"Can't read."
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Desire
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Post by Desire on Nov 14, 2008 12:22:24 GMT -5
Desire leaned forward and pinched the menu between two fingers, gently sliding it from his hands. "I'll read it out to you," it said, rather matter-of-factly, opening the menu and beginning to read in a very cordial way.
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Post by Mortimer on Nov 14, 2008 20:52:13 GMT -5
The choice was still a bit overwhelming for the little creature and he slumped down in his chair, sliding a bit on the seat like a restless child, then lurched forward and rested his chin on the table with a sort of whine.
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Desire
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Post by Desire on Nov 17, 2008 16:14:42 GMT -5
Desire puckered its lips, trying to understand. Desire could understand motivation, but only so far as it pertained to desires, and this was not quite what was expected. But perhaps this little creature was not driven by that sort of petty search for pleasure (not that Desire was going to run down the petty searching of pleasure). Desire seemed taken aback, and tilted its head, and lowered the menu, and its voice was more gentle - more because of a need to probe its reasoning than out of great compassion for its babyish reaction.
"Do you want for me to choose?" asked Desire, eyebrows drawn in a notch, seeking to understand.
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Post by Mortimer on Nov 18, 2008 12:16:51 GMT -5
"Yes."
Black hair bobbed with his nod and he sat up again, less morose than a moment ago as the light smile of simple curiosity fulfilled returned to his lips.
Choice was not something he was used to. Henry had always brought him the foods which Izame most seemed to ask for, and those were the foods he had been given at the carnivale, the only foods whose names he knew and the only foods he'd requested from Erik and Julian as well. But being Above in Paris had exposed him to more smells and he'd seen people eating things he did not recognize and wondered only if everything were as good as apples, fish, chocolate and weather things had the same sorts of textures (though his poorly formed little human hands were far less sensitive to texture than were the broad pads of his former appendages).
He fidgeted now with the cloth on the table idly as he looked around the little restaurant, wondering what the fabric of his companion's suit felt like and weather the buttons would flash in the light like the ones on Julian's shirt, but remembered his lessons from Valmont that people did not go about touching eachother, so he merely sat quietly and waited.
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Desire
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Post by Desire on Nov 19, 2008 9:36:07 GMT -5
Strange little thing. He seemed to be extremely pleased by this. Desire supposed that was how it was to be a lesser god - as time went on, and their shrines fell into disrepair, the options became quite limited. They could no longer demand from the world, only accept what their few followers left for them, until there was nothing left at all. Desire remained rather curious, but appeared very composed as its eyes traveled the menu and it came to a decision.
With a flick of the wrist, Desire called over a waiter, placed an order for shrimp soup, spring rolls, and a side dish of pork rolls, and smiled as though things were going as planned, although Desire had hardly any plan at all. Glancing back to the little god, still smiling, it explained what it had ordered and asked if this was approved of at all.
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Post by Mortimer on Nov 19, 2008 9:41:27 GMT -5
Mortimer had no idea what any of those things were, but he nodded enthusiastically and grinned, sitting up straighter and, when he thought the...man? wasn't looking he scooted his chair around the table to be closer. To examine buttons.
Since he couldn't touch them and turn them in the light, he settled for moving his body back and forth in the chair, his malformed hands gripping onto the edges of the seat to keep him from falling over one way or the other. That made the buttons flash a bit and caused him to emit a rather sudden, excited trill that drew a few stares.
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Desire
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Post by Desire on Nov 19, 2008 9:57:27 GMT -5
Desire raised an eyebrow, rather startled, although Desire was not particularly adhesive as far as decorum was concerned. Still, it imagined it had a certain amount of class. The god appeared, despite its behavior, which might lead Desire to assume a certain expression of anxiety, to be very happy about something or other. Something that it got out of swaying back and forth in its seat.
Desire almost sighed, resigned, and slipped its hand under its lapel to pull out the silver cigarette case again, flipping it open for to take out another cigarette. "I believe you are one of my sister's," said Desire, faintly bored. Desire did not dislike Delirium - it took care of her when she needed it, didn't she? - but was rarely in the mood for her childishness, her complete ignorance of Desire. Desire had other siblings well aware of it and its function, occasionally even to the point of neglecting their own, which gave Desire a great deal of pleasure; but Delirium was just a child. There was a certain appeal to her, occasionally, as there was to the little god, but it was not the sort that held the eye for long. Was this what happened to them all, then, or just this one? Certainly it made sense that the gods grew mad eventually. Desire struck a match along the table and placed it to the end of the cigarette calmly.
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Post by Mortimer on Nov 19, 2008 10:01:18 GMT -5
He stopped and tilted his head.
"What is? Sister. I am one of?" he questioned, scooting his chair closer and then pointing one slender finger at Desire's coat. "Your buttons flash--like Julian's. Like much much."
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Desire
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Post by Desire on Nov 19, 2008 12:54:22 GMT -5
Desire leaned forward with a smile, flicking cigarette ash with a practiced hand, and letting the buttons flicker a bit in the light, if that so pleased him. It gave Desire as much pleasure to torment as to please, but did neither when the reaction of the subject became a nuisance. Desire suspected the little god's joy was much less annoying than his discomfort.
"My sister..." Desire began, considering. "Is named Delight," it finished. "And you are more delighted than anything, aren't you?" Desire blew a smoke heart, though not at the god. Then it leaned back in its seat, ponderingly, resting and arm on the back of the chair. "Who is Julian?"
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Post by Mortimer on Nov 19, 2008 22:38:11 GMT -5
He beamed and agreed--yes, he would say that he was delighted. That's not to say there weren't things he desired, very much. To be accepted as a human being and to have all the things human beings had, even if he didn't understand most of them.
"Julian is Erik's offspring. Very pretty, love much much. Takes care of."
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Desire
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Post by Desire on Nov 20, 2008 10:05:04 GMT -5
Strange that with such simple vocabulary, it should use the word "offspring" rather than child, son, or daughter. Desire logged that into memory, prepared to go back to it at some later point, though not now. It continued to smoke, thoughtfully. Clearly the little being did love, did want, but certainly it was not its primary function. And the main purpose of its desires seemed to be to further its happiness. Desire was not a thing given to frustration, and remained calm, but it was some consolation that even while gods and mortals might have felt delight, Delight herself had long since changed her name.
It was almost pleasing that the god would reply to the question with Julian with a statement that would inevitably produce another question. "And...who is Erik?"
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Post by Mortimer on Nov 21, 2008 7:12:09 GMT -5
Mortimer beamed and inched his chair closer so that now they were sitting nearly side-by-side rather than across from one another at the table. His always-busy fingers worried the slightly worn cloth runner laid over the wood, tracing the golden silk patterns threaded into it.
"Erik is...hm...Care care. More-than-friends." Again, the little god had no word for "family" and even if he had, he'd not know where Erik would fall into that broad category--uncle, brother, father or son could call fit within the sharkgod's love for the skull-faced man and his drive to both protect and be protected by Erik.
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Desire
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Post by Desire on Nov 21, 2008 15:41:55 GMT -5
Desire pursed its lips. Certainly it had enough grasp of enough languages - as well as having noted enough of the little man's speech patterns - to tell that just because the phrase "more than friends" had certain meanings in certain contexts did not mean it was meant that in this context. But it had piqued Desire's interest, as assuredly it would. It was in Desire's nature to notice those things.
Desire glanced at the glowing tip of its cigarette, turning its hand as though admiring it in the light. "So there is Erik, and there is Julian, and then, there is...well," said Desire, almost smirking, glancing back to the creature with warmth, "what's your name?"
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Post by Mortimer on Nov 21, 2008 16:22:39 GMT -5
"Mortimer, Monsieur. Erik named." He smiled, still rather proud of having acquired a name that did not simply describe what he was. "What is Monsieur's name?"
He watched the cigarette, still interested in it even though he had not cared for the smoke or the taste. The ember at the tip of it reminded him passingly of something--as anything red ever did.
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