@goreworry: "You have that look once more." Tonality rambles monotone pon dual tiers. Lip pursed light yet visage remains inscrutable. "Your employer would be rather unkind to you, should you fall into sickness. It is best you rest," cranium nods as though to finalize vocals. Palms rest 'among another a'ways from other. Clasping self in notion of warry. "Honeo."
his is not a kind visage. there is no gentle mercy here only bone, where half-mask rests along his jaw, sheilding the downward turn of drawn lips from those that pass. the food before them is expensive, the wine in honeo’s glass more than some would spend on a whole meal. not for the first time he wonders if theres even base, instinctual pleasure in this for xiomara, or if they would be as well sustained on rice and broth.
utami speaks constantly of pity for what xio lacks but he does not feel it. he does not look on them with anything of the sort, he practices acceptance. and even still in that statement of fact, if honeo squints just so, he can see the shade of concern, paint it upon pale features and imagine it so. his lack of pity should not be mistaken for a lack of regret. he does feel that --- regret comes in little waves, erroding the sands one aching push at a time.
And if I have prophetic powers, and understand all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have all faith, so as to remove mountains, but have not love, I am nothing.
“ i’m my own employer, since my uncle passed. ” he takes a sip of wine, soft lips resting at the edge of his glass as blood of christ lingers on palate and paints undertones of cherry and oak, subtle acidity and full, rounded tanins cloying to his mouth. “ even so, this isn’t illness. i’m only tired, and not so tired that i can’t enjoy the company of a friend. ” and isn’t that selfish? to take pleasure in their presence when it can not possibly be mutual?
he doesn’t care though, not really. he rests assured that should xio grow tired, they will leave.
