solgunslinger:
Though she struggles to keep her visage smooth, her eyes are still glittering with delight. It’s an experience she’s savoring dearly, and will continue to hold precious for centuries to come. If she continues to live that long, that is.
It smells nice. The paint Senua made, that is. Strange yet familiar in a way all things from nature tended to be, even to the most city-born person alive. This is the first time in quite a long time that she’s donned any face paint, and the first that really meant anything to anyone. Sol does her best to remain still and calm as not to disrupt the flow, and eventually settles into a mood of pure contentment.
“ You had a husband? “ She nearly blurts, unable to hold the question back. Senua looked so young- and to be married already? It definitely took the Gunslinger by surprise. But immediately a wave of guilt crashes over her, knowing that, even if she remembered this person clear as day… He was in all likelihood, gone from her life forever. A sad prospect, and one she wishes to banish from existence. She cannot help but hope the Traveler chose Dillion too, so that her friend might have that husband back.
“ My apologies, that was tactless. “ Eyes flitting downwards, she is unsure whether to press on to other topics or to carry on the topic of Dillion. Sol decides the former, but her voice carries a softness to allow for the topic to go either way. “ The way you do your own paint is lovely, though I feel that a mutual exchange of assistance could improve relations between individuals. Brings people closer, to see each other on an equal level. “
Her expression flickers, for just a moment, at Solgun’s question, but it is brief, and she is quick to cover the look with a little smile. Talking about Dillion still makes her chest squeeze, and fill her with old grief, but she doesn’t want to concern her friend, or make her think it was her fault that she feels like this. Senua brought him up, and she knows she will have to deal with those feelings sooner or later on her own.
“No, it’s fine,” Senua says with a light shrug of the shoulder and arm that’s supporting the bowl of paint. “I brought him up. I lost him in my first life, to the Northmen. Or... the Vikings, I guess as they are called by people in this time. We weren’t married, not really, but we had plans to be married, so... I often just called him my husband. And still do. It makes me... makes me feel a little better, somehow.”
A little smile graces her lips, and touches her grey eyes. She continues to fill in the mask she has outlined over her friend’s eyes and nose. “Thank you,” she says. She nods as well, affirming what Solgun has said. “Yes. It was a bonding activity for our warriors. Friends, spouses, people who didn’t interact outside of being warriors together... we all dead each other’s paint. Created bonds and strengthened old ones. I only really ever did my husband’s, though.”
