Mmmhm. [alia tips her head towards the touch on her hair, smoothing away the strand of sodden hair, letting her perch against his knee, look up at him, through him, like she wants nothing more than to sink her fingers into the soft meat of his mind and take him apart. or like she wants to swallow him whole. or somewhere in-between. but she nudges her temple against his palm, then closes her eyes as homelander's fingertip settles on the center of her forehead.] I know. She's Alicent.
[that suffices, just as she's alina or he's paul might. their essence, their magnetism captured in the name, insufficient in it's simplicity, but closer to describing what's contained than anything else could be. she understands homelander's attachment, the cord tying him to alicent now, always, since the games, perhaps. she reads it in the quickening of his pulse, the tang of his sweat, the flicker in his eyes when she opens hers once more and meets his gaze.
they're quiet for a moment, homelander's mouth twisting, alia's quiet, before he asks the question. alia's pale shoulders raise, fall, rising above, then sinking beneath the water.] It was a change. [neutral, disinterested -- the truth is one she will not allow herself to ponder for long. what does it matter if she misses the simplicity of her mind being her own? she cannot return to that. she is as she is.
turning suddenly, alia presses her bare back to homelander's shins, tips her head upside-down onto his lap to regard him that way instead.] Would you miss being ordinary? If you could become it?
no subject
[that suffices, just as she's alina or he's paul might. their essence, their magnetism captured in the name, insufficient in it's simplicity, but closer to describing what's contained than anything else could be. she understands homelander's attachment, the cord tying him to alicent now, always, since the games, perhaps. she reads it in the quickening of his pulse, the tang of his sweat, the flicker in his eyes when she opens hers once more and meets his gaze.
they're quiet for a moment, homelander's mouth twisting, alia's quiet, before he asks the question. alia's pale shoulders raise, fall, rising above, then sinking beneath the water.] It was a change. [neutral, disinterested -- the truth is one she will not allow herself to ponder for long. what does it matter if she misses the simplicity of her mind being her own? she cannot return to that. she is as she is.
turning suddenly, alia presses her bare back to homelander's shins, tips her head upside-down onto his lap to regard him that way instead.] Would you miss being ordinary? If you could become it?