[Filtered from Leonid, just in case]
I must apologize to my students. Recent events have made finding time for lessons difficult. I believe I we will be able to continue this Saturday.
If there are any others who wish to learn swordsmanship, I am capable of taking four or five more students. Those with less experience will receive the bulk of my attention. Respond if you are interested.
[Later that night, well after most people should be asleep, Sigmund lays in bed doing something that might generously be called uneasy dozing. There's something that's been bothering him for a few nights now. A quiet whisper, a faint hint of perfume... once again, he tries to convince himself it's just his imagination. Stop being foolish, just go to sleep. With a growing feeling of unease, he rolls over and reaches for his pillow, so that he can pull it to him. He's tired, he's imagining things, it will all be gone in the morning... Except that under the pillow, his hand brushes against something cold and hard. His fingers curl around it, and he pulls out... a pendant - the size of his palm, startlingly familiar.
He isn't in bed for much longer. Tying his robe around his waist, he looks around, wondering where he can possibly get some sleep now. The floor? The couch in the sitting room? No... Tired, and a little disturbed, he settles himself at the very edge of Edward's bed, with his knees hanging off and above the covers. Edward will understand...]
I must apologize to my students. Recent events have made finding time for lessons difficult. I believe I we will be able to continue this Saturday.
If there are any others who wish to learn swordsmanship, I am capable of taking four or five more students. Those with less experience will receive the bulk of my attention. Respond if you are interested.
[Later that night, well after most people should be asleep, Sigmund lays in bed doing something that might generously be called uneasy dozing. There's something that's been bothering him for a few nights now. A quiet whisper, a faint hint of perfume... once again, he tries to convince himself it's just his imagination. Stop being foolish, just go to sleep. With a growing feeling of unease, he rolls over and reaches for his pillow, so that he can pull it to him. He's tired, he's imagining things, it will all be gone in the morning... Except that under the pillow, his hand brushes against something cold and hard. His fingers curl around it, and he pulls out... a pendant - the size of his palm, startlingly familiar.
He isn't in bed for much longer. Tying his robe around his waist, he looks around, wondering where he can possibly get some sleep now. The floor? The couch in the sitting room? No... Tired, and a little disturbed, he settles himself at the very edge of Edward's bed, with his knees hanging off and above the covers. Edward will understand...]
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chasethestars
chasethestars
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So he just... tilts his head points at his bed. Either it's still there and Edward sees for himself, or it isn't... and he's crazy.]
....Oh. Oh. Really, is that a problem for him? He used to wear it, so why...? Then again, the picture inside had been torn away when they'd found it at Vesplume.]
...My lord... do you want me to remove it for you?
I didn't have it, before. It wasn't here. And... [I've been smelling things?] the spare pillow has- [He cuts himself off and shakes his head, then wearily rubs his face with one hand.] I'll get no more rest there tonight.
My bed is open to you, my lord. There's no need for you to take the couch.
Thank you, Edward.
...Though the prospect of being on the couch - again - was unpleasant as ever. Perhaps in the morning they could make some kind of arrangements, replacing the mattress and pillows or switching or something. Or maybe the storage closet... then again, that would probably be worse than the couch.]
Is there anything else I can do for you?
...Hm. That's one idea, anyway.] Stay here.
M-my lord?
Oh god he's serious.]
Are you... [Stop, stop. You sound pathetic. Edward swallows hard, clears his throat, and tries again.] Are you certain?
Yes. [...?] Is there a problem? It's just a bed.
Internal flailing aside, he shakes his head quietly and sits back down on the bed, trying not to look so shocked. It's still dark, but he'd rather not risk having Sigmund misunderstand his surprise for revulsion or something. That's not it at all.]
It's a rather strange form of decorum, this. I'll only order myself into a little of your bed. His balancing act is impressive, but he may have been better off on the couch.]
Now stop being ridiculous and get comfy before he grumbles at you. It's too early in the morning to be dealing with this crap.]
Mindful of Edward's earlier statement about wanting to know him, he gives him a good-natured nudge with his shoulder. He knows he's being foolish. Thanks for not hating him, Ed.]
No amount of foolishness could ever make him hate you, you crackhead.]
But, just before he drifts off, he mumbles quietly.] Thank you, Edward. [It's slurred, both from sleep and the fact that his cheek is smushed against the pillow, but the sentiment is still there.]
[He's not so sure he'll be sleeping tonight.]