[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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She touches the back of his head, fingers on his hair, and reminds herself not to think of him as Volsung even in the slightest. Even if he had the memories to match.
It was just too hard to think like that.]
He presses his cheek against her hair and sighs.] I want you to be happy.
I love you, my dear Sigmund.
He does make you happy, doesn't he?
Then we shouldn't need to discuss this.
...if that is what you wish.
Do what pleases you. [...But he still doesn't like him.]
...okay so he's grown up and remembering his past life and all that, BUT HE'S STILL HER SIGMUND. Her tired-looking Sigmund who changed the subject, and now she is going to do the same.]
...you have not been sleeping well, Sigmund.
I rarely sleep well.