[He's easy to tug down, as used as he is to that slightly stooped posture to try to hide his height-- and he finds a way to fit against the body close to his own just as easily. Ryan practically melts into place, clearly used to accommodating, with a pleased little murmur.]
...haven't noticed it much, honestly. I lived in a haunted house, I'm used to things making weird noises at night.
[The humor in his tone might fall a bit flat, but he's trying, here.]
And there are a lot of new recruits. Still getting used to them being around the hub, it's more of a distraction than the noise.
[There are a couple others he can feel at this range, but only barely, with how most are out. It's nice to have a familiar presence here instead of strange ones in the background.]
[ Noh-Varr exhales an aborted laugh, the pads of his fingers tracing alien symbols on Ryan's back. Being touched and warmed feels good, and yet a part of him feels guilty for taking so much 'off' time today. A few hours with Warriorhead, a nap with Garrus, and now this.
Selflessness, he supposes, won't bring Isabelle back. ]
Must be exhausting.
[ He figures they'll be white noise eventually, but the thought makes him sympathetic. He's not entirely pleased to have to let go, but he does pull away, if only to put on some music for them. ]
Do you mind if I ask you something?
[ His tone is unusually hesitant. He picks up the Nina Simone record and sets it on the machine. There's an initial scratch as he brings the needle down, then the dulcet tones of Nina's voice fill the room, volume kept tastefully low so as not to impede conversation.
Suspecting that Ryan won't, in fact, mind, Noh-Varr hops straight ahead to his question. ]
If Isabelle were--if either of them had been...disturbed, in death. Would you know?
[ He isn't sure how to phrase it. The world of ghosts and spirits is, for the most part, unknown to him. He figures she hadn't gone peacefully, but he'd like to at least know she wasn't caught in the veil. ]
[Ryan lets him pull away only reluctantly, fingertips hooking into the fabric of his shirt just long enough to make it clear that he's thinking about not letting go. He takes a seat on his bunk again, waiting for Noh-Varr to join him-- and for a moment there's just silence in response to that question. He hadn't known his friend knew either of them-- hadn't asked.]
I would know. There haven't been any signs of their spirits around, and- I asked Mothership if I could see their bodies, to make sure they weren't near those instead. They've passed on, I promise. First thing I made sure of after I'd looked at the scene.
[ He nods, mutely, his emotions under tight rein. Kree aren't meant to feel strongly; they're not just a warrior race but a soldier race, and part of their training is making sure that emotional distress won't compromise performance.
Still. When he speaks, his voice is soft, his back still turned to Ryan. ]
Isabelle was the first person I met on Ajna, right after the drop. She put a gun to my head; forty-eight hours later I learned we were rooming together. [ He huffs, amused at the memory, then turns to join Ryan on the bed. His expression is a strange mixture of fondness and wire-taut aggression. ] She didn't deserve this death.
[When he's come to the bed, Ryan doesn't hesitate to wrap his arms around him again, holding more than hugging this time. The look on his face is one he just has the immediate urge to soothe the aggression from, and if Noh lets him that hold will be close enough to have him tucked right up against Ryan's body, chin resting lightly on his shorter companion's head. (He'll be quick to ease off if it's unwelcome.)]
It's... it's never anything you can stop, if it's meant to happen, but- nobody deserves that. Just don't forget her, Noh.
[ Ryan can feel him stiffen at the words 'it's never anything you can stop', but Noh-Varr makes no move to extricate himself. He doesn't want to argue, right now. He doesn't have the energy. ]
I won't. I'll avenger her. We'll find whatever killed her and obliterate it.
[ Slowly he relaxes again, his fingers reaching right beneath the hem of Ryan's shirt to knead the dip of his hipbone. ]
[That almost makes him let go, flickers of worry going through his head (what did I say, is he mad), but he lets out a breath when he feels Noh-Varr relax, feels his hands on him. Ryan's fingers thread into his hair to comb gently through it, in an affectionate, repetitive little gesture.]
I never doubted that. I'm just sorry there's not more I can do.
[ He normally doesn't go for being pet, but it's something Garrus seems to find pleasant to do, and so he doesn't object when Ryan's fingers start threading through his hair. ]
She's my second dead rovermate, you know. Annie went first. Never made it off Ajna.
[ It still hurts, knowing he hadn't known until they'd been on the Neheda for a week. Her bed had stayed empty, he'd guessed, but he hates having what's his taken away. His rovermates, for the longest time, were the closest thing he had to a crew here. ]
[He deals with death all the time and yet sometimes, he's just not sure what to say. Sure, it's easy with strangers, people he doesn't feel particularly attached to-- but beyond that, it starts to feel like offering sympathy is just unnecessary platitudes. It's not enough, it's what they could get from anyone.
His hand slips back down after a moment, fingers trailing over Noh's neck and down his spine, finally settling at the small of his back. Ryan is generally restless at best, and this isn't too different.]
It's not gonna happen again. [Not the firm assertion it might be from someone else. Coming from Ryan, it's a quiet promise.] And I'll keep an extra eye out for them, if you want. I mean- I try to, for everybody, but-- fuck, you know what I mean.
We'll prevent it. This crew is my crew, and I'll protect it. [ A beat. ] Hibari and Vriska...they're so young, Ryan. And I know I'm not--I'm not old, myself, but they're still small.
[ The Kree don't have a concept of 'childhood', really. Since they're created rather than born, and emerge from their pods already (mostly) functional, they're expected to act as small adults. But he recognizes potential when he sees it, and would despise seeing it snuffed out. He cares, even more than he'd like. ]
[He falters there, searching for the right words.]
It's easy to think you're older than you are. I wouldn't have guessed you were younger than me, and honestly it still feels a little weird to think about. Cultural differences, I guess.
[Hibari and Vriska. Names he sort of recognizes, but that he isn't familiar with; he's making a mental note to change that, to pick up their signatures if he can and make good on what he'd offered.]
The Kree don't really have children, just cadets. If you're old enough to move, you're old enough to fight. If you're old enough to think, you're old enough learn. Sciences, engineering, motor skills. We drill in them as soon as we're out of the pods.
[ He shrugs. His thumbs keep tracing foreign patterns into Ryan's side, lazily. ] If I'd never left Hala, I never would have thought it wasn't the only way to do things. The freedom humans give their children is astounding. Isn't there a danger of poor or uneven socialization?
[...he can't help it, he laughs-- silently, shoulders shaking as he leans against Noh-Varr, holding on to him a bit more tightly.]
Is there a danger of poor socialization, he asks the guy who lived with a bunch of ghosts.
[Breathe. He can't just leave it at that. Ryan inhales, exhales slowly, and manages to still himself.]
There-- there is, yeah. I mean- I haven't had a lot of human contact in my life, not before I got here. They thought that what I can do was just hallucinations, something wrong, my parents homeschooled me because I couldn't just play normal in public. They were trying to protect me, in a way, but... there are so many ways to just sort of-- get separated from the whole, you know? My case was more on the extreme end, but a lot of people just don't quite fit in. They don't connect in the way most humans do with each other.
[Ryan's silent for a moment there, relaxing a little further before he continues, quiet.]
You start wondering if you ever really can, sometimes. Like I said, not really a normal case, but- shit, I'm not even sure I consider myself human anymore. I call myself human, I'm pretty sure I'm thoroughly biologically human, but I keep catching myself saying they instead of we when I talk about them. Human relations are just... chaotic, at best.
[ When Ryan explains, he can't help a pang of...recognition? Sympathy? Either way, he knows that struggle--being separated from the whole and being uncertain of how to get back, or even if you truly want it. ]
Human relations is an oxymoron: your species seems more intent on killing each other than finding ways to cohabitate. [ He breaths out. He loves humans, but they're slow to change. They've been tearing each other down for thousands of years. ]
The Kree believe in unity. A single culture for the whole. The same education, the same rules, the same standard for everyone. It solves a lot of problems. [ He reaches up, brushing Ryan's hair away from his face. ] For what it's worth--I think you're an excellent example of your species. And I'm glad to have met you.
[That-- is a thoroughly unexpected compliment, one that leaves him feeling warm and with a smile on his face that he'd feel was embarrassing if he could see it.]
--glad to have met you too, you know.
[And he's still entirely too full of that pleased feeling, there's nothing to do with it but let it out, and so Ryan tilts his head down to kiss him. Not too intently, not too long; just enough for it to be a warm and affectionate thing.]
...but I know what you mean. About other humans. Why d'you think I focus on helping the dead, and people who aren't part of my species?
[ Ryan's dopey smile echoes in Noh-Varr's chest, and he finds himself returning the kiss, his hand falling to cup Ryan's face, thumbing that smooth jaw. When Ryan pulls away, there's a split second where Noh-Varr moves to pursue, but then abandons the thought when Ryan speaks again. Ryan's humility is something Noh-Varr likes, but the underlying bitterness makes him melancholy. Ryan must have been a lonely child. ]
Humans are one the most creative, diverse species I've ever met--and I used to be part of a crew of intergalactic diplomats, so I don't say that lightly.
[ Propping himself up on his elbows, he hovers over Ryan, his expression fond. ] After all, your species produces individuals like you, or Chidori, or Shepard, or Adrien. They could still surprise you.
[ Gently, he leans down, stealing a second kiss, just as warm and reassuring as the first. ]
[Not just as a child-- Ryan's been a generally lonely person, and this sort of thing is... not new, but something he's never had often. Sometimes there's still a feeling of newness to it though, when it's been long enough, and he welcomes that second kiss with more enthusiasm than he'd given the first. At this rate Noh-Varr is going to get himself all wrapped up in gangly limbs before too long; it's just nice, and Ryan is clearly more reluctant to break away. His words are murmured almost against his companion's mouth.]
Sweet-talker. [There's a breathy laugh with that.] I hope they do, later. Who knows, maybe eventually they'll believe.
For now though-- [He reaches up to lightly poke his friend's nose with a fingertip. Boop. This is what you get for kissing a huge dork, Noh.] I believe I owe you another kiss for that.
[ He obviously doesn't mind being tangled; in fact, his own body is almost entirely dense muscle and as such, Ryan's skinny limbs will find decent padding. As tempted as he is by that offer of another kiss, there's something that tempts him further-- ]
Mmm, you do. [ His nose wrinkles at the boop. Really, Ryan? ] But I think you also promised to show me your tattoos.
[ His tone of voice isn't actually all that suggestive, despite their position. One of his hands reaches up, tugging gently at the neckline of Ryan's shirt collar. ]
[He's quick to place a hand over Noh-Varr's, enough so that it's clearly more reflexive than anything; Ryan relaxes a moment later with a slightly sheepish smile, though, shifting away so that he's sitting faced away from him as he starts to undo the buttons.]
Just let me get this out of the way, yeah? They're mostly toward the back, [he says to explain, hoping that covers it. Noh doesn't actually need Ryan to face him to see the tattoos, and he can easily just use the shirt to keep his chest covered once he's shed it. The ink, he doesn't mind showing off. The mark left behind from the spirit that passed through him, though, he's more self conscious about.]
[ Ryan isn't a small person by any means, but he's skinny, and the tattoos seem to take up a disproportionate amount of space on his thin frame, by Noh-Varr's standards. He reaches a finger towards Ryan's back, hovering over the white bird. He almost asks if he may, but decides against it. He isn't usually so cautious, especially not with touch like this, but these tattoos are meaningful to Ryan, and he wants to treat them--and their owner--with the care they deserve.
His fingers trace the edge of the white bird's head, the beak, the beady eye, then down to the wing. He looks at the book. what is its title? ]
[He can't help the small, reflexive shiver that runs down his spine when Noh-Varr's fingers trace along the tattoo; it's not often that he leaves more skin bared than usual, and the feeling is one he hasn't been used to lately. Ryan absolutely isn't complaining, though, and after a moment he's managed to relax more thoroughly. On close inspection, the book the white raven's perching on is a collection of Poe's poems- it seemed thematically appropriate.]
With the birds-- ravens, in a lot of myths, are bad omens. Signs of death, though in a couple other myths they're tricksters or creators. They're actually really highly intelligent birds, though, they can solve problems and manipulate other scavengers into helping them feed, that kind of thing.
[His tone's awfully fond, really.]
So I picked them for the intelligence and associations with death. That one's white to go along with one particular myth that they're actually souls.
[ Noh-Varr knows that Edgar Allan Poe's most famous work has something to do with a raven, and not much else, so he nods along to Ryan's words, his fingers tracing to the shoulder with Death. That one seems simple enough. The other one, and he has to encourage Ryan to tilt his body a bit to see it better, is the Tower, which he isn't at all familiar with. ]
A tower? [ A beat, then, perhaps a little wryly: ] More death?
[ He understands it's meaningful to someone with long experience ferrying people from one world to the next; in a sense, what Ryan can do isn't so far removed from America Chavez's dimension-hopping powers. But it still strikes him as...grim. Noh-Varr doesn't think of Ryan as a bad omen; it hasn't completely occurred to him that Ryan might think of himself that way. ]
They're tarot cards- used for divination, if you're not familiar. I managed to bring my deck when I signed on if you want me to show you sometime.
[Another thing he only rarely shows others. Card-reading is the one real superstitious activity he allows himself, and only because it's worked; sure, he'll also claim his cards are assholes to him, but if they weren't then he'd be suspicious about whether the results were accurate.]
The Death card doesn't exactly symbolize it literally, either. It just means an end to something, it's a metaphorical death, you know? And the Tower is--
[There he has to pause, fumbling for the words.]
It's another thing people see as a bad sign, destruction, but that's not all it is. It's chaos and disruption and change. And that's not necessarily for the worst, yeah?
[And, given those explanations, Noh-Varr might be able to guess why Ryan is attached to those cards in particular. It's very similar to his feelings about death in general, really: something people fear, see as a negative thing, when in all honesty it's not so bad. There's more depth than the ill omens people see when they look at them; ends mean new beginnings, change is complex.]
Divination. [ He tries to keep the huff of amusement out of his voice, but doesn't entirely succeed. He's seen Loki 'divinate' before, and it wasn't impressive. But he sits still and listens to Ryan explain, continues to trace the outlines of the marks in the skin. He understand what Ryan is driving at, even if he doesn't quite get the need to stamp all this symbolism so permanently. Death is something Ryan feels strongly about, which is understandable, given his
Gently, he leans forward, pressing a kiss to the bare skin of Ryan's nape, pushing the messy tumble of hair out of the way. ]
Adaptability is a form of strength. [ It's spoken in a murmur as he pulls back, finger now trailing the line of Ryan's spine. ]
[That kiss gets a low hum from him, a contented little murmur of a sound, as his head tilts forward to better expose the nape of his neck to Noh-Varr's mouth. Although Ryan still holds his discarded shirt to his chest to cover it, he's more relaxed by now, not so aware of the exposure anymore; what he is more aware of is the sensation of breath against his neck before Noh-Varr pulls back, and of the shivers that run down his spine and make his bare skin prickle when that line is traced.]
Ah-
... yeah, that's-- that's the practical one. [There's a soft breath of a laugh, almost sheepish, at the way he trips over the words at first.] Mentioned my artist friend is a mage, right? The runes are a ward against possession and malevolent spirits, they're just... only effective to a certain point.
[They're definitely more than just ink, though. As Noh-Varr's touch trails over them he might notice they feel warmer than the surrounding skin, and that they almost seem to thrum beneath the pad of his finger in a slow, steady rhythm.]
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...haven't noticed it much, honestly. I lived in a haunted house, I'm used to things making weird noises at night.
[The humor in his tone might fall a bit flat, but he's trying, here.]
And there are a lot of new recruits. Still getting used to them being around the hub, it's more of a distraction than the noise.
[There are a couple others he can feel at this range, but only barely, with how most are out. It's nice to have a familiar presence here instead of strange ones in the background.]
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Selflessness, he supposes, won't bring Isabelle back. ]
Must be exhausting.
[ He figures they'll be white noise eventually, but the thought makes him sympathetic. He's not entirely pleased to have to let go, but he does pull away, if only to put on some music for them. ]
Do you mind if I ask you something?
[ His tone is unusually hesitant. He picks up the Nina Simone record and sets it on the machine. There's an initial scratch as he brings the needle down, then the dulcet tones of Nina's voice fill the room, volume kept tastefully low so as not to impede conversation.
Suspecting that Ryan won't, in fact, mind, Noh-Varr hops straight ahead to his question. ]
If Isabelle were--if either of them had been...disturbed, in death. Would you know?
[ He isn't sure how to phrase it. The world of ghosts and spirits is, for the most part, unknown to him. He figures she hadn't gone peacefully, but he'd like to at least know she wasn't caught in the veil. ]
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I would know. There haven't been any signs of their spirits around, and- I asked Mothership if I could see their bodies, to make sure they weren't near those instead. They've passed on, I promise. First thing I made sure of after I'd looked at the scene.
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Still. When he speaks, his voice is soft, his back still turned to Ryan. ]
Isabelle was the first person I met on Ajna, right after the drop. She put a gun to my head; forty-eight hours later I learned we were rooming together. [ He huffs, amused at the memory, then turns to join Ryan on the bed. His expression is a strange mixture of fondness and wire-taut aggression. ] She didn't deserve this death.
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[When he's come to the bed, Ryan doesn't hesitate to wrap his arms around him again, holding more than hugging this time. The look on his face is one he just has the immediate urge to soothe the aggression from, and if Noh lets him that hold will be close enough to have him tucked right up against Ryan's body, chin resting lightly on his shorter companion's head. (He'll be quick to ease off if it's unwelcome.)]
It's... it's never anything you can stop, if it's meant to happen, but- nobody deserves that. Just don't forget her, Noh.
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I won't. I'll avenger her. We'll find whatever killed her and obliterate it.
[ Slowly he relaxes again, his fingers reaching right beneath the hem of Ryan's shirt to knead the dip of his hipbone. ]
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I never doubted that. I'm just sorry there's not more I can do.
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[ He normally doesn't go for being pet, but it's something Garrus seems to find pleasant to do, and so he doesn't object when Ryan's fingers start threading through his hair. ]
She's my second dead rovermate, you know. Annie went first. Never made it off Ajna.
[ It still hurts, knowing he hadn't known until they'd been on the Neheda for a week. Her bed had stayed empty, he'd guessed, but he hates having what's his taken away. His rovermates, for the longest time, were the closest thing he had to a crew here. ]
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His hand slips back down after a moment, fingers trailing over Noh's neck and down his spine, finally settling at the small of his back. Ryan is generally restless at best, and this isn't too different.]
It's not gonna happen again. [Not the firm assertion it might be from someone else. Coming from Ryan, it's a quiet promise.] And I'll keep an extra eye out for them, if you want. I mean- I try to, for everybody, but-- fuck, you know what I mean.
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We'll prevent it. This crew is my crew, and I'll protect it. [ A beat. ] Hibari and Vriska...they're so young, Ryan. And I know I'm not--I'm not old, myself, but they're still small.
[ The Kree don't have a concept of 'childhood', really. Since they're created rather than born, and emerge from their pods already (mostly) functional, they're expected to act as small adults. But he recognizes potential when he sees it, and would despise seeing it snuffed out. He cares, even more than he'd like. ]
Still, thank you. I appreciate the sentiment.
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[He falters there, searching for the right words.]
It's easy to think you're older than you are. I wouldn't have guessed you were younger than me, and honestly it still feels a little weird to think about. Cultural differences, I guess.
[Hibari and Vriska. Names he sort of recognizes, but that he isn't familiar with; he's making a mental note to change that, to pick up their signatures if he can and make good on what he'd offered.]
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The Kree don't really have children, just cadets. If you're old enough to move, you're old enough to fight. If you're old enough to think, you're old enough learn. Sciences, engineering, motor skills. We drill in them as soon as we're out of the pods.
[ He shrugs. His thumbs keep tracing foreign patterns into Ryan's side, lazily. ] If I'd never left Hala, I never would have thought it wasn't the only way to do things. The freedom humans give their children is astounding. Isn't there a danger of poor or uneven socialization?
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Is there a danger of poor socialization, he asks the guy who lived with a bunch of ghosts.
[Breathe. He can't just leave it at that. Ryan inhales, exhales slowly, and manages to still himself.]
There-- there is, yeah. I mean- I haven't had a lot of human contact in my life, not before I got here. They thought that what I can do was just hallucinations, something wrong, my parents homeschooled me because I couldn't just play normal in public. They were trying to protect me, in a way, but... there are so many ways to just sort of-- get separated from the whole, you know? My case was more on the extreme end, but a lot of people just don't quite fit in. They don't connect in the way most humans do with each other.
[Ryan's silent for a moment there, relaxing a little further before he continues, quiet.]
You start wondering if you ever really can, sometimes. Like I said, not really a normal case, but- shit, I'm not even sure I consider myself human anymore. I call myself human, I'm pretty sure I'm thoroughly biologically human, but I keep catching myself saying they instead of we when I talk about them. Human relations are just... chaotic, at best.
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Human relations is an oxymoron: your species seems more intent on killing each other than finding ways to cohabitate. [ He breaths out. He loves humans, but they're slow to change. They've been tearing each other down for thousands of years. ]
The Kree believe in unity. A single culture for the whole. The same education, the same rules, the same standard for everyone. It solves a lot of problems. [ He reaches up, brushing Ryan's hair away from his face. ] For what it's worth--I think you're an excellent example of your species. And I'm glad to have met you.
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--glad to have met you too, you know.
[And he's still entirely too full of that pleased feeling, there's nothing to do with it but let it out, and so Ryan tilts his head down to kiss him. Not too intently, not too long; just enough for it to be a warm and affectionate thing.]
...but I know what you mean. About other humans. Why d'you think I focus on helping the dead, and people who aren't part of my species?
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Humans are one the most creative, diverse species I've ever met--and I used to be part of a crew of intergalactic diplomats, so I don't say that lightly.
[ Propping himself up on his elbows, he hovers over Ryan, his expression fond. ] After all, your species produces individuals like you, or Chidori, or Shepard, or Adrien. They could still surprise you.
[ Gently, he leans down, stealing a second kiss, just as warm and reassuring as the first. ]
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Sweet-talker. [There's a breathy laugh with that.] I hope they do, later. Who knows, maybe eventually they'll believe.
For now though-- [He reaches up to lightly poke his friend's nose with a fingertip. Boop. This is what you get for kissing a huge dork, Noh.] I believe I owe you another kiss for that.
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Mmm, you do. [ His nose wrinkles at the boop. Really, Ryan? ] But I think you also promised to show me your tattoos.
[ His tone of voice isn't actually all that suggestive, despite their position. One of his hands reaches up, tugging gently at the neckline of Ryan's shirt collar. ]
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Just let me get this out of the way, yeah? They're mostly toward the back, [he says to explain, hoping that covers it. Noh doesn't actually need Ryan to face him to see the tattoos, and he can easily just use the shirt to keep his chest covered once he's shed it. The ink, he doesn't mind showing off. The mark left behind from the spirit that passed through him, though, he's more self conscious about.]
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His fingers trace the edge of the white bird's head, the beak, the beady eye, then down to the wing. He looks at the book. what is its title? ]
Explain to me. The meaning.
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With the birds-- ravens, in a lot of myths, are bad omens. Signs of death, though in a couple other myths they're tricksters or creators. They're actually really highly intelligent birds, though, they can solve problems and manipulate other scavengers into helping them feed, that kind of thing.
[His tone's awfully fond, really.]
So I picked them for the intelligence and associations with death. That one's white to go along with one particular myth that they're actually souls.
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A tower? [ A beat, then, perhaps a little wryly: ] More death?
[ He understands it's meaningful to someone with long experience ferrying people from one world to the next; in a sense, what Ryan can do isn't so far removed from America Chavez's dimension-hopping powers. But it still strikes him as...grim. Noh-Varr doesn't think of Ryan as a bad omen; it hasn't completely occurred to him that Ryan might think of himself that way. ]
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[Another thing he only rarely shows others. Card-reading is the one real superstitious activity he allows himself, and only because it's worked; sure, he'll also claim his cards are assholes to him, but if they weren't then he'd be suspicious about whether the results were accurate.]
The Death card doesn't exactly symbolize it literally, either. It just means an end to something, it's a metaphorical death, you know? And the Tower is--
[There he has to pause, fumbling for the words.]
It's another thing people see as a bad sign, destruction, but that's not all it is. It's chaos and disruption and change. And that's not necessarily for the worst, yeah?
[And, given those explanations, Noh-Varr might be able to guess why Ryan is attached to those cards in particular. It's very similar to his feelings about death in general, really: something people fear, see as a negative thing, when in all honesty it's not so bad. There's more depth than the ill omens people see when they look at them; ends mean new beginnings, change is complex.]
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Gently, he leans forward, pressing a kiss to the bare skin of Ryan's nape, pushing the messy tumble of hair out of the way. ]
Adaptability is a form of strength. [ It's spoken in a murmur as he pulls back, finger now trailing the line of Ryan's spine. ]
Is this the practical one?
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Ah-
... yeah, that's-- that's the practical one. [There's a soft breath of a laugh, almost sheepish, at the way he trips over the words at first.] Mentioned my artist friend is a mage, right? The runes are a ward against possession and malevolent spirits, they're just... only effective to a certain point.
[They're definitely more than just ink, though. As Noh-Varr's touch trails over them he might notice they feel warmer than the surrounding skin, and that they almost seem to thrum beneath the pad of his finger in a slow, steady rhythm.]
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wtf I know I wrote a response to this yesterday
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