[ Perhaps it is a mercy on his end that he opts to turn in that moment, a small and indistinguishable thing. His fingers skim the opaque shelves of the bar, stirring dust beneath the pads of them like the kick up of ash. It leaves little traces of him everywhere, but that's no concern here. He has nothing to hide in this moment, the image he cuts back home echoed only in the way he conducts the lines of his body.
For someone ostensibly human, there's something preternatural in his movements. He's a slip of a thing, a pale spot in the dim of the station. There's no suggestion he's honed his body to do such a thing, but when he lifts himself up onto the tips of his toes, it is without the trace of a wobble. ]
It is, [ he says, his voice an even cast no matter the proximity. It resembles in some respects one who could comfortably lead a symposium — soldiers going to war. ] At some point, it was exposed to heat high enough to change its body entirely. [ He lifts a hand, in part to expose the pale of his fingers stained with the residue the cork itself had left across them, a dark and muddled brown. He seems to have placed it down somewhere in the interim.
He pauses, his fingers finally moving to close around the neck of a bottle toward the back. ]
It might still be alright, if you don't care about flavor or alcohol content. [ It could have been a dare from anyone else, but with it is always difficult to tell without familiarity to guide it. Still, there's no trouble with how he pulls the vessel down. If there is something always to his name, it is that he has always been deceptively steady. ]
no subject
For someone ostensibly human, there's something preternatural in his movements. He's a slip of a thing, a pale spot in the dim of the station. There's no suggestion he's honed his body to do such a thing, but when he lifts himself up onto the tips of his toes, it is without the trace of a wobble. ]
It is, [ he says, his voice an even cast no matter the proximity. It resembles in some respects one who could comfortably lead a symposium — soldiers going to war. ] At some point, it was exposed to heat high enough to change its body entirely. [ He lifts a hand, in part to expose the pale of his fingers stained with the residue the cork itself had left across them, a dark and muddled brown. He seems to have placed it down somewhere in the interim.
He pauses, his fingers finally moving to close around the neck of a bottle toward the back. ]
It might still be alright, if you don't care about flavor or alcohol content. [ It could have been a dare from anyone else, but with it is always difficult to tell without familiarity to guide it. Still, there's no trouble with how he pulls the vessel down. If there is something always to his name, it is that he has always been deceptively steady. ]