[ His expression corrects to something less dour, and he nods once, looking at her. If he notices the nervous clasp of her hands, he does not comment. The only thing he may do is encourage her: ]
You need only name it.
[ Somnus tucks the dousing tool into a belt beneath his cloak, his arms falling to his sides. For the potions, he's brought a satchel; but he would hear her speak first. ]
[Ok, here goes. Rinea draws herself up, expression both steeled and anxious.]
You requested I not pry into your affairs, so I shan't. But still... [Still... she cannot do nothing. If Somnus simply disappeared after all of this, what if no one noticed? What if she never saw him again and could only wonder?]
If there is a moment where you need help... or a timeframe after which, if I do not hear from you, I should worry... will you tell me? May I ask for that much?
[ Involving her to this extent is dangerous enough. Necessity demands that he be cruel to sever her from his affairs, lest she be dealt far greater evils. This is countered with the cold, calculating thought that Rinea is, in fact, useful-- her alchemical skills proves it. Somnus can be cruel in this way, too. Nevertheless...
When he replies, his gravely tone is smoothed as if to lessen the impact of his words. ]
Daughter of Rigel...You ask a difficult favor.
[ His hand reaches out, lifts, and... he places his palm atop of her head. There's something honest about the gesture, albeit stiff and regretful, but it's only for a brief moment, and his arm lowers to his side. ]
Edited (had to make it more cryptic) 2021-11-16 05:49 (UTC)
[Rinea looks solemn, cowed by understanding what she is asking for. Something about the act of it is nerve-wracking. Not necessarily because she fears Somnus, or whatever danger may lurk in his shadow... but just because bringing voice to her own desire is terrifying.
Then she is being... patted?
It's a subtle, opaque gesture of affection, but it's enough to surprise Rinea out of her nerves. She looks at Somnus, eyes wide...
...then a tiny smile curves at her lips.]
...May you walk always in the light of the gods' blessing.
[ She smiles, and his gaze lingers upon her expression, carrying with it not only his usual seriousness, but a soft sort of complexity. Perhaps this is how he appears when he's thoughtful. He appears, for all but a few moments, less of whatever stoic role he had in his homeworld, and more of an ordinary man.
But then he takes a step away, collecting the potions into the satchel. He replies: ]
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no subject
You need only name it.
[ Somnus tucks the dousing tool into a belt beneath his cloak, his arms falling to his sides. For the potions, he's brought a satchel; but he would hear her speak first. ]
no subject
You requested I not pry into your affairs, so I shan't. But still... [Still... she cannot do nothing. If Somnus simply disappeared after all of this, what if no one noticed? What if she never saw him again and could only wonder?]
If there is a moment where you need help... or a timeframe after which, if I do not hear from you, I should worry... will you tell me? May I ask for that much?
no subject
When he replies, his gravely tone is smoothed as if to lessen the impact of his words. ]
Daughter of Rigel...You ask a difficult favor.
[ His hand reaches out, lifts, and... he places his palm atop of her head. There's something honest about the gesture, albeit stiff and regretful, but it's only for a brief moment, and his arm lowers to his side. ]
no subject
[Rinea looks solemn, cowed by understanding what she is asking for. Something about the act of it is nerve-wracking. Not necessarily because she fears Somnus, or whatever danger may lurk in his shadow... but just because bringing voice to her own desire is terrifying.
Then she is being... patted?
It's a subtle, opaque gesture of affection, but it's enough to surprise Rinea out of her nerves. She looks at Somnus, eyes wide...
...then a tiny smile curves at her lips.]
...May you walk always in the light of the gods' blessing.
no subject
But then he takes a step away, collecting the potions into the satchel. He replies: ]
May Their mercy ever be yours.