[Paul takes Palamedes' hand when it's offered, slightly awkward in his grip and his expression as he rises. His knees crackle like those of someone much older, a distraction he welcomes from the thoughts that come trailing what Palamedes said (the right questions, indeed; he should be careful what he wishes for). The air returns to its salt-wind chill, the desert banished back where it belongs.]
I'll see you soon.
[Paul echoes the phrase, trying it out, and then the First and Palamedes are gone, and Paul stands alone in a cramped room with his hand pressed to a heavy wreath of bone.
He doesn't go far after sending a message to Palamedes with directions, but he does prepare for a guest. When Palamedes arrives, a desert mouse will bound from the front step of the crooked house Paul has taken temporary shelter in, and she'll guide him up narrow stairs to a half-cracked door from which the smell of black tea and spice-scented incense pours along with firelight. There he'll find Paul in a sleeveless white undershirt and the same black pants he was wearing before sitting in one of two dust-cloth covered loveseats by a narrow fireplace, a dark blanket draped over his shoulders concealing most of his arms.
The wide desk running along the wall across the fireplace has been cleared, cleaned, and pulled out enough to work around on all sides. On the small table next to Paul, there's an ancient teapot with two wooden mugs next to it. There are no bones or antlers in this room; if Palamedes looks for their signature, he'll find them one door down the hall.]
May I ask you about the Sixth? [It's not exactly 'hello, it's good to see you made it'; that's more implied by his nod at the teapot and his faint greeting smile.] Do you ever go outside there? Not generally. You specifically.
[The best way to not think about something is to think of something else, and it's better to turn himself outward again. There's enough morbidity here as it is.]
no subject
I'll see you soon.
[Paul echoes the phrase, trying it out, and then the First and Palamedes are gone, and Paul stands alone in a cramped room with his hand pressed to a heavy wreath of bone.
He doesn't go far after sending a message to Palamedes with directions, but he does prepare for a guest. When Palamedes arrives, a desert mouse will bound from the front step of the crooked house Paul has taken temporary shelter in, and she'll guide him up narrow stairs to a half-cracked door from which the smell of black tea and spice-scented incense pours along with firelight. There he'll find Paul in a sleeveless white undershirt and the same black pants he was wearing before sitting in one of two dust-cloth covered loveseats by a narrow fireplace, a dark blanket draped over his shoulders concealing most of his arms.
The wide desk running along the wall across the fireplace has been cleared, cleaned, and pulled out enough to work around on all sides. On the small table next to Paul, there's an ancient teapot with two wooden mugs next to it. There are no bones or antlers in this room; if Palamedes looks for their signature, he'll find them one door down the hall.]
May I ask you about the Sixth? [It's not exactly 'hello, it's good to see you made it'; that's more implied by his nod at the teapot and his faint greeting smile.] Do you ever go outside there? Not generally. You specifically.
[The best way to not think about something is to think of something else, and it's better to turn himself outward again. There's enough morbidity here as it is.]