[ what does he take her for, Astolfo? she's no gossiping grandmother, swapping rumors while their hair is done. what Nero does is brag - he should be worried about her telling everyone how good the sex is and in garish detail the pleasure she feels. that's what she'd announce from the rooftop, not that he was jealous.
though lord. if he ever revealed who else he'd slept with... perhaps she can understand his growls and snarls a bit clearer than she'd first thought. ]
Mine is most impeccable taste. It sets trends and alters the fashion of our times. My only apology would be for all the attention you might receive as my paramour - others shaking envious in their boots for the attention I will lavish upon you.
[ here, to start. if she can't smile away his gloom, she'll kiss it off with a peck to his cheek. and as he said - those ears and tail broadcast everything. there's no hiding it.
hm. maybe it would be better to leave them be on him after all.
and if that was intended to be a dig at her, she won't be shamed. Nero has no compunction, no British prudishness. if anything her lovemaking should be put on the theatrical stage so all can applaud and give roses to her and her lovers for their performance. also there's been like, ten tops, out of the hundred Servants in Chaldea. ]
It flusters me to say so, but to see you so pained.... [ and her arms have swept around his middle, her head pressed against his chest. his scent hadn't changed too much, with only a bit of stale beer mingled with the forest. and he's warm, sturdy - as solid as ever. no magic had changed that aspect of him. ] Please, be happy when we are together. Do not let what I've done with others cause you any distress or anguish.
[ their Master had Nero's love, it was true - but that was an imbalance, intertwined with respect and dependency and competition with impossibilities even her heart understood, deep down. and it was not a zero sum game. a Servant's eternality provided complications - the most glorious flames burned the briefest, after all. and Robin, hm. perhaps it was not so different after all.
she understood Robin least - his fickleness, his deprecation, his irritation towards the things and people he gravitated towards. as comprehensible as the love her citizens had for an Emperor they burned in effigy. how they spat at her, and then fought and died for her. what he had, he would never give her - never compromise those angry, bitter parts of him. that for all the gold he'd stolen, he could only ever sneer at the ones who wore it.
but she could hope. give herself repeatedly to it and hope - that one day an act of hers could change it. one day her people would love her as she loved them. one day, her city would hold her in their hearts and memories as she did Rome's marble glories. and one day, that she'd be smart enough to uncover the correct move to make with him. and until then, throw herself repeatedly at it, galvanized to continue the war for every snatched victory. he'd come to her when called.
hold tightly to him, while he was there in front of her with no escape. wish and want and pray this stubborn creature was inspired by her passion enough to feel it too.
and never thinking of the irony. that if and when he did, if she would welcome it.
she feels too strongly, to consider the brain's complexities and self-hatreds. ]
no subject
though lord. if he ever revealed who else he'd slept with... perhaps she can understand his growls and snarls a bit clearer than she'd first thought. ]
Mine is most impeccable taste. It sets trends and alters the fashion of our times. My only apology would be for all the attention you might receive as my paramour - others shaking envious in their boots for the attention I will lavish upon you.
[ here, to start. if she can't smile away his gloom, she'll kiss it off with a peck to his cheek. and as he said - those ears and tail broadcast everything. there's no hiding it.
hm. maybe it would be better to leave them be on him after all.
and if that was intended to be a dig at her, she won't be shamed. Nero has no compunction, no British prudishness. if anything her lovemaking should be put on the theatrical stage so all can applaud and give roses to her and her lovers for their performance. also there's been like, ten tops, out of the hundred Servants in Chaldea. ]
It flusters me to say so, but to see you so pained.... [ and her arms have swept around his middle, her head pressed against his chest. his scent hadn't changed too much, with only a bit of stale beer mingled with the forest. and he's warm, sturdy - as solid as ever. no magic had changed that aspect of him. ] Please, be happy when we are together. Do not let what I've done with others cause you any distress or anguish.
[ their Master had Nero's love, it was true - but that was an imbalance, intertwined with respect and dependency and competition with impossibilities even her heart understood, deep down. and it was not a zero sum game. a Servant's eternality provided complications - the most glorious flames burned the briefest, after all. and Robin, hm. perhaps it was not so different after all.
she understood Robin least - his fickleness, his deprecation, his irritation towards the things and people he gravitated towards. as comprehensible as the love her citizens had for an Emperor they burned in effigy. how they spat at her, and then fought and died for her. what he had, he would never give her - never compromise those angry, bitter parts of him. that for all the gold he'd stolen, he could only ever sneer at the ones who wore it.
but she could hope. give herself repeatedly to it and hope - that one day an act of hers could change it. one day her people would love her as she loved them. one day, her city would hold her in their hearts and memories as she did Rome's marble glories. and one day, that she'd be smart enough to uncover the correct move to make with him. and until then, throw herself repeatedly at it, galvanized to continue the war for every snatched victory. he'd come to her when called.
hold tightly to him, while he was there in front of her with no escape. wish and want and pray this stubborn creature was inspired by her passion enough to feel it too.
and never thinking of the irony. that if and when he did, if she would welcome it.
she feels too strongly, to consider the brain's complexities and self-hatreds. ]