There's Always a Beginning
We love trips to the past here.
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“He is a peculiar thing.”
For the last handful of hours, and who really knew how much time could have passed when the pair of moirails got together, Harlan’d been talking, while taking up entirely too much space on the couch beside him, about this or that as it related his church’s sect. Of course, Orfuse always does his best to listen, but sometimes the rambling will fly right over his head. Church stuff isn’t exactly built with the lowblood in mind, he tried not to think about what happens in them.
It is usually politics or murder, often both, and how annoying he found the other followers. Sometimes their leaders. How frustrating they could all be. Never before did he describe a fellow clown as something so kind as peculiar.
When the curious statement comes out of his moirails mouth, his eyes spring up from the historical text he’d been rewriting, having seen the events himself and finding key information missing from what was documented, and a playful smile quickly overtakes his features. A constellation of freckles shifting to broadcast his delight.
Harlan's brows furrow for a moment, then he raises one.
“Harly, have you,” he pauses for emphasis, “Made a friend?” His genuine stab of excitement at the idea of his beloved moirail going out and making friends only sort of masked by the teasingness of his tones. Orfuse was well aware of the difficulties his beloved partner had with making friends, after all.
Well, difficulty is the wrong word. Charisma oozes out of the man in waves that could snuff out even the harshest of critics, after all. Even the Empress herself would be taken with you, Orfuse once told him with glee, a statement that was only met with a satisfied hum at the time.
Resistant is a better word. Friends are not his top priority.
“Friend is a strong word.” Harlan objects, case in pointing the argument he didn’t know was being had, as he takes the opportunity of the oracle's temporary distraction to rest his head in the smaller man’s lap and allow himself to stretch out fully across the couch. Even now his legs frustratingly hang a bit over the edge. Immediately Orfuse’s hands are in his hair, nails worked into his scalp in the form of a rhythmic massage. “He is just interesting, this Thanat Lycaon.”
Orfuse pauses and Harlan turns his head slightly to get a look at the strange expression that takes up residence and contorts that freckled face. “Love, are you alright?”
He just shakes his head and laughs the strange reaction off.
”Peculiar and interesting, is he?”
”Yes, we’ve had a few conversations.”
”Conversations plural?” His mock surprise makes Harlan roll his eyes.
”I am capable of many conversations plural.”
”I know!” He chimes back, following another delighted laugh. “I think I’d like to see this man that has captured your attention for plural conversations with my own eyes, is all. I’d like to meet this Thanat Lycaon.”