Who: Ozymandias + various When: Litha Where: Aefenglom What: Litha or Litha-adjacent things! Warnings: None as of right now, but will update as needed.
[He felt the small spike of anxiety in the Bond when he suggested that she wait for him to get the drinks. Throughout the evening, as they made their way through the city going from vendor to vendor to sample their drinks for the festival, Daenerys has been close to Ozymandias' side. Never in a way that made it seem or feel as though she were clinging to him, but it was apparent that the larger crowds for the festival in a city she justfiably viewed as treacherous likely left her feeling a little more self-assured if her Bonded remained within her reach.]
[But this evening served a two-fold purpose. Daenerys expressed her desire to spend more time with Ozymandias. It was a request he certainly did not mind. Although the Bond certainly played its role in drawing them together almost magnetically, Ozymandias always welcomes her company. And to see her relaxed and enjoying herself seems a rare, cherishable sight that he looks forward to. But for any of that to be accomplished, she needs to find her confidence once more in being within the city, to feel the urge to look over her shoulder less.]
[And so, he suggested that she wait for him just outside the tavern, close to the entrance where her back could be to a wall and she could easily see all who came and went. Ozymandias reassured her wordlessly with a gentle squeeze of her hand before stepping inside to get their samples of this vendor's offerings. The entire time he is inside, throughout his brief conversation with the barkeep, he's attentive to anything the filters through the Bond. But nothing appears to come. The effects of the drinks they've already had continue steady, placing both of their moods in an increasingly warmer, brighter place. Even if there was perhaps some mild discomfort in his absence, Daenerys' mood does not seem to deviate from that.]
[Ozymandias offers her glass to her when he emerges from the tavern, stepping out of the way for someone else to enter. He draws no attention to his pride in her for remaining save the smile that he also offers her.]
Much like the one before, I received multiple assurances that this is to be the finest glass either of us will sample this evening. [He huffs a laugh.] Strange how nearly every glass is able to supposedly stand above the rest, don't you think?
[ Daenerys once thought that she could sit at the top of a great pyramid and see where the future laid for the good of the people, but now she realizes perhaps she sat that high to avoid a rip of paranoia that feels almost ingrained into her. She was an open book at times, only to one person.
She carries herself well, only a stray dart of her eyes every so often and her step a bit close to Ozymandias out of habit. It was an odd request, she thought, but... she knows she can not continue her work if she does not find herself here. Who would believe her? And truthfully, what ties would she sever if she refused to come here?
Ozymandias means something to her – his strength clear, but there's a charm that makes an agreement happen.
As the activities around them were so foreign and strange, it also filled her with joy to see something bring life to this realm. It was good to have company here, to have someone to watch the glasses to ensure nothing was slipped in. Well... more than the lightness she feels in her heart. She'll blame the alcohol, regardless. Better than poison, amiright?
When he returns to her, she's left with a cheeky grin. ]
Perhaps we're starting in reverse. The last ones the worst, but we're so far gone we could barely notice.
[ He earns a genuine laugh as she inspects the drink, curious of what color or additional topping like foam, bubbles, or even mist rested onto it. ]
First time I've seen the city come together so... freely.
[The drinks this time seem like a sunset in a glass, the yellow at the bottom even holding onto a glow just bright enough that it would be visible in the dark albeit not truly enough to cast its own light onto other objects. The colors bleed together, giving way to one from the next much as their inspiration, each layer with its own unique flavoring that plays well with the next. And, of course, what imagery of the sun would not likely be complete without a slice of citrus to adorn the glass itself.]
[Ozymandias huffs a laugh at her hypothesis, nodding as it seems entirely possible. Enough alcohol can convince anyone of anything, even that swill is good enough.]
Yes, it's an improvement over last year! [he says, plucking the slice of citrus off his glass. He gives it a squeeze to drizzle juice into his drink.] The sky was apparently an ill omen. Although they still certainly enjoyed themselves, you could sense the anxiety.
[Whether they kept glancing at it or did everything they could to avoid looking, everyone was highly fixated on the sky rather than enjoying their present company. This year, however, people seem to have relaxed and remain certain that such a thing cannot possibly come to pass again this year. There are fewer wary looks toward the Mirrorbound as well, no longer inherently associating them with that omen.]
I believe we are all better for it. Hardship is an inescapable part of life, but it does not do well to dwell upon it or bemoan its existence. I find it better to celebrate one's blessings and riches.
[ He can feel the edges wash away over the night, how she loosens up and becomes comfortable. Almost childish at times with her amusement of the joy some display so casually in front of them. ]
I see no omens tonight, even at the bottom of my drink. [ She'll smell the drink soon after, truly savoring the whole experience of these magical little drinks. They were taken in moderation – only one per location – but she feels light. Happy. And it almost was guilt that follows up. ] There is no doubt much celebration is here and I'd be lying if I didn't say I was surprised.
[ A small little cheer and she takes her first sip. ]
Mmm – did you happen to catch the name of this one? It's... delicious.
[Ozymandias says nothing to her surprise about the city's ability to celebrate. It was, after all, a people constantly at odds with themselves and the world around them. It would be an easy thing to mistake them as the sort to not engage in revelry of any kind, not unless they were celebrating their own victories in one of their many battles they wage each day.]
[He mirrors her cheers and takes a sip, nodding in agreement with her assessment.]
Sunset Magic. [Clearly a drink named for its aesthetics more than its flavoring beyond perhaps the easy and correct assumption there's a degree of citrus throughout.] Each layer is to have its own flavor. I had yours made with a little less alcohol than mine. This particular establishment appears to favor strong drinks over most of the ones we've been to tonight.
[While there's probably a degree to which her changes may increase her tolerance, Ozymandias doesn't want to gamble with it given Daenerys' size. Better the drink be a little weaker and let her enjoy more of the evening.]
[ There's a warmth against her cheeks here, genuine blush peppered against pale flesh not scaled. As much as she grows troubled by the city, there's hope. There has to be hope – and here, she feels the first ounce of it.
The drink makes that clear. ]
Oh? Ever the thoughtful, then. [ She's teasing, but even as she sips upon hers... she eyes him curiously. ] Would you allow me just a sip of yours? I promise I won't steal it from you. I've sampled some of the finest my world has offered, but – consider me curious on how proudly they boast.
[Ozymandias raises a playful eyebrow in a silent challenge to her request. He doesn't think there is any harm to a single sip. Even a deeper drink under the promised guise of a single sip wouldn't likely do much to her. But he can't imagine the taste of the drink is the same across the two with a present burn of liquor with each sip. He doesn't really know if Daenerys will find the more noticeable presence of alcohol appealing or if she'll be trying to hold back any natural reactions she might have to it.]
So long as you promise not to make off with it. [Ozymandias offers it to her, but withdraws it just out of reach at the last second before she can take it. He flashes her a grin as he teases,] And that you promise it is to be just one sip. I'm watching...
[ The alcohol is her interest. For something she's tasting in hers... well, it tastes smooth and light. She wonders if hers is watered down so curiosity brings her to asking for a burn of booze down her throat. Good things dragons can't be burned! ]
You have my word.
[ She reaffirms, a small smile and soon she reaches – but the expression turns to shock at his own little denial. A teasing gesture that feels foreign, but warm all at once. ]
Watch as you will, then. My intentions are pure, if not almost scientific.
[ That sounds odd coming from Dany, a woman lost to many arts. She takes the drink in kind and smells it, the sting of alcohol present but she feels no... deterrent. Carefully, she brings the rim to her lips and takes only a soft sip.
There's no expression as she hands the drink back, her brows furrowing as if she's thoughtful. The blush on her features crawl further and soon, she sticks her tongue out just a little – as if she was some child. ]
You.... you can keep yours. [ Laughing in disbelief, she tilts her gaze to him. ] Whatever they have in yours could take down a full-grown dragon! There's almost no taste.
[It's likely not altogether noticeable that Ozymandias is weaving something other than a flower crown with his flowers in the beginning. After all, one must weave at least a row of flowers before joining the ends together to complete the crown and the beginning of his process is no different. But things begin taking a different shape after a while and it seems he's either making a crown for someone with a very large head and/or he's trying to make the tallest crown imagineable. Whatever he might be making though, he cannot be accused of messing around. There's an obvious and blatant pattern to the flowers he's weaving together and a confidence to his movements. He's clearly done this before.]
[Of course, he makes no remark upon his own work. Instead, when he pauses a moment for a sip of wine, he looks to Sheva's attempts. It's a good thing he hasn't yet raised his glass to his lips as he stifles a laugh.]
[Sheva would not consider herself this brand of artist, more utilitarian in her creativity, which is directly related to her childhood and overall survivalist nature. Even her clothing choices, even when fancier always are chosen with the practicality of extreme movement involved. Part of that's training, a balance of personal comfort and tactical capabilities, and then there's the residual scars in her psyche that always expect something to put the safety of herself or others in danger.
These floral crowns, though beautiful, neither provided protection or helped put food on the table, and while that's not really a concern here, it's ingrained deep. The consumption of alcohol probably isn't helping, either.
That being said, she's not doing half bad, what with her bow and arrow making skills still practiced and of excellent quality, she's just not doing as good as her bond. It's unsurprising, really. She's also not surprised by the size of his crown, either. It's very Ozy and very Egyptian. Though structurally, she's uncertain of how this will stay put without giving someone a neck ache.]
Keep that up and my efforts will shift. [How they will shift, Sheva hasn't decided, but they can't exactly improve when she's genuinely trying her best already.] Would a crown of arrowheads be more to your liking?
[Even so, she glances at the abundance of choices at her fingertips and sighs, taking a moment to indulge in another sip of wine.]
[Her words only serve to shatter whatever semblance of self-control he has not to laugh, Ozymandias' laughter slipping out first in suppressed chuckles until they're a full-bodied laugh. Her threats don't particularly ring as sincere given their lack of plain direction. Setting down his own work (and reining his laughter back in), he motions for her to pass hers to him.]
Let me see it and we can get you back on track. I won't allow your efforts to go elsewhere. You'll master this even if it means we need to sit here all night.
[There may be light frustration, but there's no genuine irritation at her bond's teasing or the laughter that follows. Instead, she finds herself shaking her head and grinning with a scoffing noise, eyes narrowing and tail lashing once behind her as an attempt to give an air of actual displeasure.
In the end, she passes him the crown with a lift of an eyebrow.]
You would rather I spend my efforts tonight on this crown when I have far better gifts I could offer?
[She hums as she sips her wine, eyes sparkling with mischief while the noise paints the situation as a most curious development. Perhaps even as blasphemy.]
I wouldn't have though floral arts and crafts a skill taught to kings.
[Ozymandias more or less begins retracing some of what Sheva has done to start figuring out where exactly it is she has gone so wrong. Despite his focus and attention on her flower crown attempt, however, there is a bit of a softer look that comes to his expression.]
I am by no means an expert, but my beloved taught me.
Whenever I catch the scent of the lotuses that I tend to in my room, I think of no one other than her. [It's likely Sheva has noticed them once before. He keeps them close to his vanity where they grow in lavish pots filled with water.] Nefertari wore them in her hair nearly every day and most often wove them in herself. There was a day I was watching her do it and I thought that I ought to know how as well. I asked her to teach me and she patiently instructed me until I did it nearly as well as her.
[He couldn't always spare the time to do it himself, of course, but after he learned, Ozymandias enjoyed having the opportunity. It was a quiet moment for the two of them in the morning to spend together without disruptions.]
It has been many centuries since last I did this with any sort of regularity though, so you would have had your opportunity to laugh at my early attempts last year.
[But as with most things once learned, it came back to him over time with a little practice. Thus, the window for making fun of his own attempts has passed and he seems to have regained enough of his skill that he can certainly manage something a little more complicated than a flower crown this year.]
[Ah, there it is! He leans a little closer to show her.]
You pulled the wrong stem through here. It's off-set your pattern. You can either undo what you've done back to this point and correct it, or you can tie a blossom and cover the mistake and simply continue as you have been.
[Sheva watches his movements, mostly so that she too can learn where she went incorrect in her technique, but she feels the shift before she notices the soft look, before he starts speaking of his late wife.
There’s a complicated stirring of emotions at that, as it changes the mood of their interactions completely, and while she holds no genuine ill will at Ozymandias for speaking of the woman, the timing of it feels a bit dismissive to her playful, relaxed mood. Sheva doesn’t desire her bond romantically, and she’s not trying to compete with his feelings and memory of her. And yet, she finds herself indulging in a bit more wine at the change in subject.
It’s a beautiful, sweet memory, and despite her not expecting or desiring this line of discussion (though she should have known better, perhaps), there’s a slight, weighted smile that appears.]
She was lucky to have had the time and safety to hone such a craft. You both were.
[Setting her glass of wine down lest it be consumed more quickly, she picks a piece of lavender from the flowers around her work area, bringing it up to her nose to inhale. It’s a scent that’s always calmed her, and the color appealed to her.]
It’s difficult to imagine you fumbling with much of anything.
[And thankfully, it’s right as she’s reaching for more wine that he spots the error, and her attention shifts to something more productive. It’s easy to see her error when he points it out, and she makes a thoughtful noise, keeping her focus on that spot as she reaches for her crown back.]
It’s also difficult for me to imagine you wearing a lumpy, uneven flower crown.
[Whether it's the physical proximity or the contrast between his feelings and what slips through the Bond, Ozymandias notices the change in Sheva’s mood. He wouldn't have gone so far as to say she was happy a moment ago, but there was a lightness to her mood that seems to have dissipated quickly. Out of the corner of his eye, he notices her reaching for her wine, for the lavender flowers. Anything for a quick and simple distraction, it seems...]
[He allows her to take the crown back from him, but Ozymandias does not return to his own project immediately. The crown and her words are an attempt to brush past it, to move on from it. Much of the time, Ozymandias allows Sheva to do just that. He allows her business to be hers, after all. But this isn’t like those instances where her mood might lower where she might be understandably trying to avoid dwelling upon her losses. A touch of concern creases itself into his expression.]
I've upset you.
[Ozymandias sees no point in asking if he's caused her offense or upset her mood when he can see the answer plainly before him.]
[Despite what either of them might feel through the bond, she maintains her focus on the crown, beginning the process of meticulously and painstakingly undoing her progress as he had suggested. His lack of returned attention to his own doesn’t go unnoticed, but she’s hoping that perhaps whatever he’s noticing will simply blow over since she’s not making much of a fuss about it.
Except not even that deep down, she knows Ozymandias well enough to understand that won’t likely be the case. She just wants to make the effort not to make waves, not with that subject, not when she’s going to sound like a jealous woman in the simplistic, derivative sense of the stereotype.
And, maybe she’s jealous. Of his joy and happiness he still draws from her, as though she’s never left him. It’s a rare thing, and she refuses to complain about him speaking of his dead wife. Except in this moment, it serves as a reminder of a lack of love even resembling what he had with his queen.
Most days it wouldn’t bother her, but for some reason, it pains her like that of a phantom limb. Something that she knows won’t grow back and yet still aches her. She sighs softly, apologetically.]
[Were he speaking to anyone else, such a remark would likely be out of concern or even an accusation if he were feeling offended by such an expression on another's face. But when it comes to Waver, this is the expression Waver possesses most often in Ozymandias' presence and Ozymandias pays it very little mind except when he is about to begin teasing him. And so, there is only amusement, Ozymandias' lips threatening to break into a grin as he makes the decision to compound upon Waver's misery and rests his arm on the back of their seating.]
[Frankly, Ozymandias thinks that is the intended purpose as the boat does not offer much by way of personal space. Even with Waver's small stature, there is perhaps only an inch of space to spare. An inch that is ignored and shortened considerably as Ozymandias leans closer to Waver.]
Worry not! [He raises his hand behind Waver to ruffle his hair.] This shall be a gentle ride, but in the case that it is not, I shall not let you drown.
[ Waver declares dryly, the ruffling pushing his head forward slightly so he's glaring up and to the side at Ozymandias through the wispy strands of his hair frizzing slightly in the summer heat. ]
Really... why are you so bad at keeping your hands to yourself?
[It's always a toss-up if Ozymandias will acknowledge or ignore Waver's complaints. Some occur with such frequency that he doesn't see the need to address them again and again. Or sometimes it seems that Waver is grumbling to himself rather than seeking a response, which Ozymandias is happy to ignore. But with little else to be distracted by while on this little boat, Ozymandias addresses it this time.]
Do you mean to say you dislike my touch? I feel there has been plenty of evidence to the contrary.
Whether or not I dislike it has nothing to do with my question, [ he insists stubbornly, arguing for no real reason. What else are they supposed to do? Ozymandias brought this on himself when he cajoled Waver into joining him for this silly boat right. ]
If you wanted to hang out that badly, you only had to ask. The normal way!
I think we both know that it does not matter what way I ask, [Ozymandias says, grabbing hold of one of Waver's cheek and giving it a light pinch.] You will find a reason to complain all the same.
[He lets go.]
I've merely learned not to pay you any mind no matter how long or loud you bellyache and grumble because you concede to me each and every time.
[ With how close they're sitting, Waver barely has to move to elbow him in the ribs for that pinch. ]
Cut it out.
[ Entitled ancient king bullshit... Not that Ozymandias is wrong exactly, but the way he phrases it doesn't make Waver more inclined to stop complaining. ]
You're beginning to sound like a cheesy lead character in one of those bodice-ripper books. Do you even hear yourself?
[The elbow to his ribs does nothing to weaken or diminish Ozymandias' wide grin. If anything, it just gets him chuckling, especially considering that Waver's reference to "bodice-ripper books" flies clean over the King of Kings' head. Which may or may not be particular obvious because he chooses not to dwell upon it long enough to ask.]
I believe you are upset because you know my words to be true.
[With his cup refilled, Ozymandias holds the bottle out for the King of Heroes to take for his own before settling back down. It has been a bit of a lazy afternoon for the two ancient kings so far. Neither seemed particularly keen on doing much more than occasionally rolling over, drinking wine kept chilled through a simple enchantment, or having some of their snacks. (Ozymandias occasionally sits up long enough to reapply this world's equivalent of sunscreen, which Gilgamesh seems less interested in using.) Long stretches of silence are also not particularly uncommon despite themselves as expending the energy to speak seems to violate the unspoken agreement for letting the day be as low energy as possible. Even Ozymandias' sphinx kitten appears to have adopted a bit of this royal lazing about as it tries to mimic its master by lying on its back, seeking out occasional affection by nestling up close and remaining persistent until it receives the belly rubs it is owed.]
[The river before them -- of which they both reached an agreement that held no real comparison to the mighty rivers of their respective lands (and perhaps a slight mutual misunderstanding that Gilgamesh was not offering his praise for the Nile any more than Ozymandias was admiring the Euphrates and Tigris easing things along) -- was not quite so still. Others coming to the banks of the river frequently ran into the waters to cool themselves down, merrows occasionally sang their joyous songs, and boats traveled its length back and forth with its various passengers. Meanwhile, the city begins its preparations for Litha, the nights being a much more suitable for the majority of the celebrations than the day.]
[It seems this level of peace is to stretch on endlessly...]
[Except that it is most assuredly disrupted when a stray ball from a game some children nearby are playing manages to land in the middle of a near-empty tray of food. The sound is enough to send the sphinx cub up onto its feed and over Ozymandias to hide from this sudden predator and even Ozymandias starts, though it's difficult to say if it's from the sound of the ball or the sphinx cub stepping on and over him to get to safety. In the distance, the offending party is easy to spot, each child frozen stiff in a mixture of shock that they managed to hit the ball that far off the mark and anxiety that they are about to get lectured from two (potentially angry) adults.]
[Ozymandias props himself up to run his hand along his sphinx's back as it settles.]
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(daenerys)
[But this evening served a two-fold purpose. Daenerys expressed her desire to spend more time with Ozymandias. It was a request he certainly did not mind. Although the Bond certainly played its role in drawing them together almost magnetically, Ozymandias always welcomes her company. And to see her relaxed and enjoying herself seems a rare, cherishable sight that he looks forward to. But for any of that to be accomplished, she needs to find her confidence once more in being within the city, to feel the urge to look over her shoulder less.]
[And so, he suggested that she wait for him just outside the tavern, close to the entrance where her back could be to a wall and she could easily see all who came and went. Ozymandias reassured her wordlessly with a gentle squeeze of her hand before stepping inside to get their samples of this vendor's offerings. The entire time he is inside, throughout his brief conversation with the barkeep, he's attentive to anything the filters through the Bond. But nothing appears to come. The effects of the drinks they've already had continue steady, placing both of their moods in an increasingly warmer, brighter place. Even if there was perhaps some mild discomfort in his absence, Daenerys' mood does not seem to deviate from that.]
[Ozymandias offers her glass to her when he emerges from the tavern, stepping out of the way for someone else to enter. He draws no attention to his pride in her for remaining save the smile that he also offers her.]
Much like the one before, I received multiple assurances that this is to be the finest glass either of us will sample this evening. [He huffs a laugh.] Strange how nearly every glass is able to supposedly stand above the rest, don't you think?
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She carries herself well, only a stray dart of her eyes every so often and her step a bit close to Ozymandias out of habit. It was an odd request, she thought, but... she knows she can not continue her work if she does not find herself here. Who would believe her? And truthfully, what ties would she sever if she refused to come here?
Ozymandias means something to her – his strength clear, but there's a charm that makes an agreement happen.
As the activities around them were so foreign and strange, it also filled her with joy to see something bring life to this realm. It was good to have company here, to have someone to watch the glasses to ensure nothing was slipped in. Well... more than the lightness she feels in her heart. She'll blame the alcohol, regardless. Better than poison, amiright?
When he returns to her, she's left with a cheeky grin. ]
Perhaps we're starting in reverse. The last ones the worst, but we're so far gone we could barely notice.
[ He earns a genuine laugh as she inspects the drink, curious of what color or additional topping like foam, bubbles, or even mist rested onto it. ]
First time I've seen the city come together so... freely.
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[Ozymandias huffs a laugh at her hypothesis, nodding as it seems entirely possible. Enough alcohol can convince anyone of anything, even that swill is good enough.]
Yes, it's an improvement over last year! [he says, plucking the slice of citrus off his glass. He gives it a squeeze to drizzle juice into his drink.] The sky was apparently an ill omen. Although they still certainly enjoyed themselves, you could sense the anxiety.
[Whether they kept glancing at it or did everything they could to avoid looking, everyone was highly fixated on the sky rather than enjoying their present company. This year, however, people seem to have relaxed and remain certain that such a thing cannot possibly come to pass again this year. There are fewer wary looks toward the Mirrorbound as well, no longer inherently associating them with that omen.]
I believe we are all better for it. Hardship is an inescapable part of life, but it does not do well to dwell upon it or bemoan its existence. I find it better to celebrate one's blessings and riches.
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I see no omens tonight, even at the bottom of my drink. [ She'll smell the drink soon after, truly savoring the whole experience of these magical little drinks. They were taken in moderation – only one per location – but she feels light. Happy. And it almost was guilt that follows up. ] There is no doubt much celebration is here and I'd be lying if I didn't say I was surprised.
[ A small little cheer and she takes her first sip. ]
Mmm – did you happen to catch the name of this one? It's... delicious.
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[He mirrors her cheers and takes a sip, nodding in agreement with her assessment.]
Sunset Magic. [Clearly a drink named for its aesthetics more than its flavoring beyond perhaps the easy and correct assumption there's a degree of citrus throughout.] Each layer is to have its own flavor. I had yours made with a little less alcohol than mine. This particular establishment appears to favor strong drinks over most of the ones we've been to tonight.
[While there's probably a degree to which her changes may increase her tolerance, Ozymandias doesn't want to gamble with it given Daenerys' size. Better the drink be a little weaker and let her enjoy more of the evening.]
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The drink makes that clear. ]
Oh? Ever the thoughtful, then. [ She's teasing, but even as she sips upon hers... she eyes him curiously. ] Would you allow me just a sip of yours? I promise I won't steal it from you. I've sampled some of the finest my world has offered, but – consider me curious on how proudly they boast.
[ JUST A SIP. ]
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So long as you promise not to make off with it. [Ozymandias offers it to her, but withdraws it just out of reach at the last second before she can take it. He flashes her a grin as he teases,] And that you promise it is to be just one sip. I'm watching...
[He offers it to her again.]
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You have my word.
[ She reaffirms, a small smile and soon she reaches – but the expression turns to shock at his own little denial. A teasing gesture that feels foreign, but warm all at once. ]
Watch as you will, then. My intentions are pure, if not almost scientific.
[ That sounds odd coming from Dany, a woman lost to many arts. She takes the drink in kind and smells it, the sting of alcohol present but she feels no... deterrent. Carefully, she brings the rim to her lips and takes only a soft sip.
There's no expression as she hands the drink back, her brows furrowing as if she's thoughtful. The blush on her features crawl further and soon, she sticks her tongue out just a little – as if she was some child. ]
You.... you can keep yours. [ Laughing in disbelief, she tilts her gaze to him. ] Whatever they have in yours could take down a full-grown dragon! There's almost no taste.
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(sheva)
[Of course, he makes no remark upon his own work. Instead, when he pauses a moment for a sip of wine, he looks to Sheva's attempts. It's a good thing he hasn't yet raised his glass to his lips as he stifles a laugh.]
Sheva, what is that supposed to be?
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These floral crowns, though beautiful, neither provided protection or helped put food on the table, and while that's not really a concern here, it's ingrained deep. The consumption of alcohol probably isn't helping, either.
That being said, she's not doing half bad, what with her bow and arrow making skills still practiced and of excellent quality, she's just not doing as good as her bond. It's unsurprising, really. She's also not surprised by the size of his crown, either. It's very Ozy and very Egyptian. Though structurally, she's uncertain of how this will stay put without giving someone a neck ache.]
Keep that up and my efforts will shift. [How they will shift, Sheva hasn't decided, but they can't exactly improve when she's genuinely trying her best already.] Would a crown of arrowheads be more to your liking?
[Even so, she glances at the abundance of choices at her fingertips and sighs, taking a moment to indulge in another sip of wine.]
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Let me see it and we can get you back on track. I won't allow your efforts to go elsewhere. You'll master this even if it means we need to sit here all night.
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In the end, she passes him the crown with a lift of an eyebrow.]
You would rather I spend my efforts tonight on this crown when I have far better gifts I could offer?
[She hums as she sips her wine, eyes sparkling with mischief while the noise paints the situation as a most curious development. Perhaps even as blasphemy.]
I wouldn't have though floral arts and crafts a skill taught to kings.
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I am by no means an expert, but my beloved taught me.
Whenever I catch the scent of the lotuses that I tend to in my room, I think of no one other than her. [It's likely Sheva has noticed them once before. He keeps them close to his vanity where they grow in lavish pots filled with water.] Nefertari wore them in her hair nearly every day and most often wove them in herself. There was a day I was watching her do it and I thought that I ought to know how as well. I asked her to teach me and she patiently instructed me until I did it nearly as well as her.
[He couldn't always spare the time to do it himself, of course, but after he learned, Ozymandias enjoyed having the opportunity. It was a quiet moment for the two of them in the morning to spend together without disruptions.]
It has been many centuries since last I did this with any sort of regularity though, so you would have had your opportunity to laugh at my early attempts last year.
[But as with most things once learned, it came back to him over time with a little practice. Thus, the window for making fun of his own attempts has passed and he seems to have regained enough of his skill that he can certainly manage something a little more complicated than a flower crown this year.]
[Ah, there it is! He leans a little closer to show her.]
You pulled the wrong stem through here. It's off-set your pattern. You can either undo what you've done back to this point and correct it, or you can tie a blossom and cover the mistake and simply continue as you have been.
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There’s a complicated stirring of emotions at that, as it changes the mood of their interactions completely, and while she holds no genuine ill will at Ozymandias for speaking of the woman, the timing of it feels a bit dismissive to her playful, relaxed mood. Sheva doesn’t desire her bond romantically, and she’s not trying to compete with his feelings and memory of her. And yet, she finds herself indulging in a bit more wine at the change in subject.
It’s a beautiful, sweet memory, and despite her not expecting or desiring this line of discussion (though she should have known better, perhaps), there’s a slight, weighted smile that appears.]
She was lucky to have had the time and safety to hone such a craft. You both were.
[Setting her glass of wine down lest it be consumed more quickly, she picks a piece of lavender from the flowers around her work area, bringing it up to her nose to inhale. It’s a scent that’s always calmed her, and the color appealed to her.]
It’s difficult to imagine you fumbling with much of anything.
[And thankfully, it’s right as she’s reaching for more wine that he spots the error, and her attention shifts to something more productive. It’s easy to see her error when he points it out, and she makes a thoughtful noise, keeping her focus on that spot as she reaches for her crown back.]
It’s also difficult for me to imagine you wearing a lumpy, uneven flower crown.
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[He allows her to take the crown back from him, but Ozymandias does not return to his own project immediately. The crown and her words are an attempt to brush past it, to move on from it. Much of the time, Ozymandias allows Sheva to do just that. He allows her business to be hers, after all. But this isn’t like those instances where her mood might lower where she might be understandably trying to avoid dwelling upon her losses. A touch of concern creases itself into his expression.]
I've upset you.
[Ozymandias sees no point in asking if he's caused her offense or upset her mood when he can see the answer plainly before him.]
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Except not even that deep down, she knows Ozymandias well enough to understand that won’t likely be the case. She just wants to make the effort not to make waves, not with that subject, not when she’s going to sound like a jealous woman in the simplistic, derivative sense of the stereotype.
And, maybe she’s jealous. Of his joy and happiness he still draws from her, as though she’s never left him. It’s a rare thing, and she refuses to complain about him speaking of his dead wife. Except in this moment, it serves as a reminder of a lack of love even resembling what he had with his queen.
Most days it wouldn’t bother her, but for some reason, it pains her like that of a phantom limb. Something that she knows won’t grow back and yet still aches her. She sighs softly, apologetically.]
Not intentionally.
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[Were he speaking to anyone else, such a remark would likely be out of concern or even an accusation if he were feeling offended by such an expression on another's face. But when it comes to Waver, this is the expression Waver possesses most often in Ozymandias' presence and Ozymandias pays it very little mind except when he is about to begin teasing him. And so, there is only amusement, Ozymandias' lips threatening to break into a grin as he makes the decision to compound upon Waver's misery and rests his arm on the back of their seating.]
[Frankly, Ozymandias thinks that is the intended purpose as the boat does not offer much by way of personal space. Even with Waver's small stature, there is perhaps only an inch of space to spare. An inch that is ignored and shortened considerably as Ozymandias leans closer to Waver.]
Worry not! [He raises his hand behind Waver to ruffle his hair.] This shall be a gentle ride, but in the case that it is not, I shall not let you drown.
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[ Waver declares dryly, the ruffling pushing his head forward slightly so he's glaring up and to the side at Ozymandias through the wispy strands of his hair frizzing slightly in the summer heat. ]
Really... why are you so bad at keeping your hands to yourself?
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Do you mean to say you dislike my touch? I feel there has been plenty of evidence to the contrary.
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If you wanted to hang out that badly, you only had to ask. The normal way!
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[He lets go.]
I've merely learned not to pay you any mind no matter how long or loud you bellyache and grumble because you concede to me each and every time.
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[ With how close they're sitting, Waver barely has to move to elbow him in the ribs for that pinch. ]
Cut it out.
[ Entitled ancient king bullshit... Not that Ozymandias is wrong exactly, but the way he phrases it doesn't make Waver more inclined to stop complaining. ]
You're beginning to sound like a cheesy lead character in one of those bodice-ripper books. Do you even hear yourself?
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I believe you are upset because you know my words to be true.
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[ Who's being dramatic?? ]
I'm not upset.
[ Not actually a lie, even if his griping makes it seem otherwise. ]
But I might get there if all you keep doing is annoying me on purpose. Is this why you invited me to come along?
[ And by 'invited' he means 'gently bullied' after the crier advertising the boats gave a very pushy sales pitch. ]
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(gilgamesh)
[The river before them -- of which they both reached an agreement that held no real comparison to the mighty rivers of their respective lands (and perhaps a slight mutual misunderstanding that Gilgamesh was not offering his praise for the Nile any more than Ozymandias was admiring the Euphrates and Tigris easing things along) -- was not quite so still. Others coming to the banks of the river frequently ran into the waters to cool themselves down, merrows occasionally sang their joyous songs, and boats traveled its length back and forth with its various passengers. Meanwhile, the city begins its preparations for Litha, the nights being a much more suitable for the majority of the celebrations than the day.]
[It seems this level of peace is to stretch on endlessly...]
[Except that it is most assuredly disrupted when a stray ball from a game some children nearby are playing manages to land in the middle of a near-empty tray of food. The sound is enough to send the sphinx cub up onto its feed and over Ozymandias to hide from this sudden predator and even Ozymandias starts, though it's difficult to say if it's from the sound of the ball or the sphinx cub stepping on and over him to get to safety. In the distance, the offending party is easy to spot, each child frozen stiff in a mixture of shock that they managed to hit the ball that far off the mark and anxiety that they are about to get lectured from two (potentially angry) adults.]
[Ozymandias props himself up to run his hand along his sphinx's back as it settles.]