#schismatica

@schismatica asked:

⠀⠀──── ✶ [FLICK ! ]but like . super gently & without ill intent .

(Send [FLICK] for your muse to flick my muse on the forehead)

"oof?"   a   small   squeak   emanated   from   rosette   lips   as   the   soft   'flick'   hit   her   brow.   "Now   what   was   that   for?"   she   asked   with   a   puff   of   her   cheeks   while   palms   found   themselves   firmly   planted   pon   her   hips.

"   is   that   any   way   to   treat   someone   who   was   worried   about   you?"   of   course   Sigrika   wasn't   actually   upset   ...   she   knew   the   gesture   was   good   natured   after   all.   Though   that   didn't   mean   she   couldn't   playfully   scold   him   ...   just   a   little?

"Perhaps I should clarify for the misunderstanding... I am seeking forgiveness for a habit not completely in my control... yet. Anaxagoras, I believe that is how you pronounce your name in full? My tuning abilities tend to auto pilot when I come within range of someone suffering due to my wish to help others receive relief for their ailments so I am here simply to offer support should you allow it."

Not exactly the best first impression that Sunday desired, already being scolded by the other for something he was actively trying to avoid, from the reputation Anaxagoras had it didn't bode well to being believed this was an honest mistake and something he didn't wish to repeat.

"I can sense your body and even mind are pushing itself to its very limits but with such a strong negative reaction to an accidental tuning I, Sunday, will respect your wishes and stop myself from 'auto' tuning as soon as I realize I am within your range until, maybe never, you seek me out for even some temporary light relief from such intense strains."

The Deliverer struggles to hide his tears as his eyes that usually stay a bright blue were now a radiant golden hue, something was happening indeed. He was currently having trouble getting some much needed rest due to the nightmares that now plague his broken mind, he hears a familiar voice as he stays in the shadows of a nearby building.

“A-Ahh Professor Anaxa, I am sorry for leaving the classroom so suddenly. Just….needed a breather was all, no worries!”

He quickly spoke out as he kept his back leaning against one of the many walls, one of his wings was trying to literally phase into existence and he was very paranoid on how his fellow Chyrsos Heirs would react to such a sight.

"if  i  wished  to  shame  you,  anaxa,  i  could  go  another  route.  i'm  just  worried,  that's  all."  the  halovian  woman  knows  better  than  to  think  he's  angry  with  her.  her  wings  flap  aimlessly,  lets  him  flit  around  the  room  as  though  he's  on  autopilot.  she'll  keep  her  thoughts  to  herself.  "and  here  i  thought  you  might  enjoy  a  break  for  some  other  study,  but  if  that's  not  part  of  your  agenda  then  i  could  just  as  easily  ask  someone  else…"  she  certainly  knows  how  to  bait  him.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ( * for Lauma !! 🥺🫶 )

UNPROMPTED

"That you would believe it to be a waste of my time, much less insist upon attempting to make me believe it, is a great part of the reason I tend to you so often."

Very carefully, Lauma makes the choice not to echo his turn of phrase. To do so would only encourage him- and worse, would only make him feel vindicated. It's a maneuver meant to give her a touch more sway over the conversation; to ensure he doesn't take the opportunity to take control of the narrative and steer the discussion in whatever way he pleases. It's the key mistake, she thinks, that most make with him. Give him an ideological inch, and he will take the mile and then more still.

And while Anaxagoras reminds her, very often, of a particularly volatile stray who has yet to acclimate to its new home, it is not because he lacks self-control.

In fact, she is more inclined to think his issue is both a need for and surfeit of it.

"Were you aware," she continues lightly, fingers gliding along the stem of a flower gently before snapping it neatly in half, "that you are the only one to not seek my aid in some manner? Were I a more insecure person, I might mistake it for disdain." Lifting the now-clipped blossom to her lips, which curve gently behind it, Lauma turns to face him at last. Eyes the gentle green of new growth land upon him, the crescent of rose near their center all the brighter against it as she lifts them to his singular stare. "Yet when I offer, there it's seldom true reproach. Only..." Concern, she thinks, for her reputation. The idea of guilt by association.

Or perhaps she's reading to much into it. Regardless, she shrugs as she stands, hefting the basket of herbs higher against her hip.

"...well, no matter what I might think, what's important is that you allow it, even if you are loathe to do so." It's half declaration, half plea; he may do as he feels he must, and so will she. "After all... helping those that may need it could never be considered a waste of my time."