[Souma nods down at her, his expression earnest. He's kind of nervous if she will like it and that shows in the way he stands absolutely still, unmoving, hands curled into the oversized sleeves of his knitted black sweater. It is the sort of stance one uses when trying to creep silently in the forest.
Inside the box is a pair of handmade rose-colored suede gloves lined with soft white rabbit fur for warmth. They are resting atop a white fur capelet and a set of hair combs, each decorated with a little cascade of golden stars hanging from each one. At the bottom there is a sachet of something that smells like coffee, cloves, and oranges, and bottle of liqueur which is pink in color and has flowers inside it.
Souma bites his lower lip and looks up from the gifts to Peace's face. They seem embarrassingly inadequate right now and he's pretty sure this was a shitty idea. Fuck.]
[Peace ran a hand over the capelet, and picked up a hair comb, making the stars clink together with the gentle movement.]
This is all so nice, I don't know if it's right of me to accept it, actually... Are you really sure, Souma? Because, like, you really didn't have to go through all the trouble.
Well, I appreciate it, homemade and not. I'm sorry, I don't usually celebrate things, like I said. I don't really have anything for you in return. Can I take a rain check?
[She passed her hand over the little white capelet.]
[Souma feels like squirming. This is so uncomfortable for him. In years he has built up the defenses and abilities so that he never has to say those three little words.]
I... need. Hh.
H....
Help.
[He lowers his gaze and his gray-skinned face is visibly ruddy now, ears reddening as his forelock falls over his left eye. He wants to scowl at himself in disgust. What kind of independent, free man has to ask someone for assistance?]
[Weird reaction, but OK, he was kind of a strange guy, sometimes. And guys - by and far, with her limited experience - didn't like asking for help. Or directions.]
Come in, sit down on the little settee at the foot of my bed, and I'll close the door. The rooms are soundproof, anyway. No one's going to hear us talking.
[Why were the rooms soundproof? Well, Peace didn't know and didn't care to question why that was. A mystery for the mysterious Naomi Gregory.]
If... you might. Consider it as your gift to me, my lady. I...
[He nods two times, thinking what he wants to say over carefully. His eyes are focused on his hands.]
Would... humbly req... quest assistance with reading this. I am...
Nn-n. My tribe calls it dull-witted. Or... rubbish-brained. No matter h-h-how much I studied, or how many times I.... was dosi.. disciplined. I cannot learn. The c-characters.
Especially... when it is.. a lot.
[He gestures, trying to make a page with lots of writing in the air.]
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no subject
Inside the box is a pair of handmade rose-colored suede gloves lined with soft white rabbit fur for warmth. They are resting atop a white fur capelet and a set of hair combs, each decorated with a little cascade of golden stars hanging from each one. At the bottom there is a sachet of something that smells like coffee, cloves, and oranges, and bottle of liqueur which is pink in color and has flowers inside it.
Souma bites his lower lip and looks up from the gifts to Peace's face. They seem embarrassingly inadequate right now and he's pretty sure this was a shitty idea. Fuck.]
no subject
[Peace ran a hand over the capelet, and picked up a hair comb, making the stars clink together with the gentle movement.]
This is all so nice, I don't know if it's right of me to accept it, actually... Are you really sure, Souma? Because, like, you really didn't have to go through all the trouble.
no subject
I...
[A much too long pause, while he slowly works out what he wants to say, and then he murmurs:]
Like m.... making things.
[Now he startles, worried he has lied, and his ears go down under his hood. He points to the combs.]
But I-I didn't make those. Bought. They were... pretty.
no subject
[She passed her hand over the little white capelet.]
Like an "I owe you a gift"?
no subject
Actually...
[Souma feels like squirming. This is so uncomfortable for him. In years he has built up the defenses and abilities so that he never has to say those three little words.]
I... need. Hh.
H....
Help.
[He lowers his gaze and his gray-skinned face is visibly ruddy now, ears reddening as his forelock falls over his left eye. He wants to scowl at himself in disgust. What kind of independent, free man has to ask someone for assistance?]
With something.
no subject
[Weird reaction, but OK, he was kind of a strange guy, sometimes. And guys - by and far, with her limited experience - didn't like asking for help. Or directions.]
Come in, sit down on the little settee at the foot of my bed, and I'll close the door. The rooms are soundproof, anyway. No one's going to hear us talking.
[Why were the rooms soundproof? Well, Peace didn't know and didn't care to question why that was. A mystery for the mysterious Naomi Gregory.]
no subject
If... you might. Consider it as your gift to me, my lady. I...
[He nods two times, thinking what he wants to say over carefully. His eyes are focused on his hands.]
Would... humbly req... quest assistance with reading this. I am...
Nn-n. My tribe calls it dull-witted. Or... rubbish-brained. No matter h-h-how much I studied, or how many times I.... was dosi.. disciplined. I cannot learn. The c-characters.
Especially... when it is.. a lot.
[He gestures, trying to make a page with lots of writing in the air.]
They... do not make sense to me.