[Tight enough. The drug does make it difficult to know.
He relaxes the arm used to prop himself up, which means he further slumps forward as she buries her face against him. His own chin finds her shoulder, resting there.
There. Holding. She's so warm.
It's a bit... nice.]
Will you... tell me more about yourself, while we're like this?
[ it is... nice. almost as if they weren't high and halfway lust-ridden. she's acutely aware of the point of his chin on her shoulder, little tingles through her upper body, and shivers out a breath into the cut of his half-open collar. ]
It has taken me... [ a deep inhale, a deeper sigh. morose. the sound of someone languishing without purpose. he may know it well. ] I don't know. This remains to be seen.
[...He does know it. He's suddenly sorry to have brought up what seems to be a point of uncertainty in her life, though it seems silly to feel that way. He is her future husband, is he not?]
[It shouldn't be surprising, because family is often a source of conflict, especially in the upper circles of English society. Sholmes himself will soon be shipped off to Oxford, for example, so that he might fully integrate himself into the rank and file. The idea both compels and disgusts; he would like to study the sciences, but only on his own time, and not amid peers who would dull his mind. He is upset, in some ways, with his family because it is not ideal, and yet they'd see him remain there all the same.
(In the future, he will get an entire case out of the friends he makes at university, having to do something with a man named Musgrave and a ritual, but that's years and years from now.)
Still, even this is not on the same level as he would call a... betrayal.]
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finalflight2024-09-12 10:58 am
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Mmhhhh.
[ a low and sighing sound as she buries her face against him. ]
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He relaxes the arm used to prop himself up, which means he further slumps forward as she buries her face against him. His own chin finds her shoulder, resting there.
There. Holding. She's so warm.
It's a bit... nice.]
Will you... tell me more about yourself, while we're like this?
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I am scholar. Was scholar. Now... I do not know.
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Mm, I would be entranced by an acaedmic, yes.
[...]
Has your path taken you elsewhere?
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I hope I am helping you find that answer.
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[Murmured into her neck. He is glad to hear that.]
There’s nothing worse in life than stagnation.
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Some things.
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Mm, like what?
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Who would do such a thing?
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a low, hot murmur against his neck, ] No accounting for family.
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[It shouldn't be surprising, because family is often a source of conflict, especially in the upper circles of English society. Sholmes himself will soon be shipped off to Oxford, for example, so that he might fully integrate himself into the rank and file. The idea both compels and disgusts; he would like to study the sciences, but only on his own time, and not amid peers who would dull his mind. He is upset, in some ways, with his family because it is not ideal, and yet they'd see him remain there all the same.
(In the future, he will get an entire case out of the friends he makes at university, having to do something with a man named Musgrave and a ritual, but that's years and years from now.)
Still, even this is not on the same level as he would call a... betrayal.]
A jealous sibling...?