Sensible. ( his mouth pulls up briefly at the corners, their fingers tangling together, palm to palm. there's something comforting about this, simple as it is. ) Even without the dangers it's hardly picturesque.
But it grows on you eventually. ( like a fungus. )
[ she notices the lack of people watching them. the same group of gang members that had been eyeing her on her way in stay occupied in their card game as she walks with aleksander.
it rankles her a bit. she and jess had cloistered themselves in the delicto office away from this same element, but aleksander has merely made an impression. so it's with a frown on her face that she finishes, ]
But not better than the Up. You obviously just haven't sampled widely.
You've never eaten Fjerdan, clearly. I assure that pickled herring doesn't compare to sour ram's testicles or fermented shark by a considerable margin.
( no wonder the witch hunters are so miserable. )
But, no. I confess sampling the food from the Up wasn't ever a priority.
[ how long had it been since ravka had reasonable access to things like cocoa and sugar in the quantities people used it here? for saint's sake, they put chocolate sauce on their bodies. ]
[ is this a thing they do now? chat about restaurant and bakery recommendations? alina frowns up at him, lapsing into quiet with an affirmative noise as they meander the narrow streets of the down towards riddler's square. ]
( the market is winding down. there's still plenty to see, of course. from the usual staples ㅡ you can find an impressive amount of (mostly) fresh produce ㅡ to the downright strange.
honestly, who knew secondhand sex toys were a thing?
past the market, they take a left turn and then another, which brings them to a row of townhouses in various states of repair. the one in his picture is third down, its bright door a beacon. )
[ alina gawks at the square. submissives on chains being sold into contracts. alina doesn't have to worry for herself, but it does contextualize some of aleksander's comments about conditions for submissives.
he would never wind up in that situation, though. would he?
she stops in front of the townhouse, not far, and surveys it. ]
Is it the whole building? [ she approaches the front gate, where the little atrium has multiple doorbells. she has never seen that in the up. ]
[ she moves in past him, surveying the interior of the narrow hall of the stairwell that branches out to the first floor and spreads upward towards the second. she heads for the stairs, shoulders hunched. ]
When you ask that question, it sounds like you think I'm on loan.
[ like she belongs to him, and he's made the mistake of letting someone else look after her for a time, and he's worried what condition she'll come back in. this isn't fair, of course. it's a neutral enough question. but coming out of him, it seems that way. ]
Reggie's a good man. [ a man. not a boy, anymore, and still he hasn't turned his back on her or changed his mind. ] I like him. And he's never asked for anything from me except my company.
( a little wave at the collar at his throat. the line marking his throat.
it's not a denial, of course, because there's always going to be that part of him ㅡ the lonely, hungry part ㅡ that wants to curl around her like a dragon guarding its hoard.
still, he nods at her description of reggie ㅡ who will always be a boy to him. )
Are you? Do you really have it in you to be happy for other people?
[ she withdraws her hand from his, nervous about the question, frowning. it hasn't escaped her that he told her to keep information about reggie to a minimum. that he knew he couldn't be trusted with it. ]
( there's always the chance that he's too much like baghra, of course. or that he allowed his ambition to utterly swallow his joy.
regardless, it's probably not the sort of conversation outside like this, where anyone could witness. after holding her gaze for a drawn out moment, he breaks the contact, turning his attention back to the hall. )
[ she crouches down to get it. the mat is filthy, but she's used to dirt, even now. she barely crinkles her nose at it before standing to unlock the door.
this isn't how house-shopping in the up had been. there'd been a man who showed her places, curated them. who'd negotiated times to visit and gotten the key out of a lock box. but this isn't the up.
she lets the darkling in first, then follows after and shuts the door on what might be his new apartment. ]
( in contrast to the outer hall, the apartment is well-kept and, perhaps most shocking of all: clean.
or as clean as anything gets in the down.
the kitchen is larger than the one in the current apartment, with room for the pair of them to manouver. the walls are painted in a shade of blue that flirts closer with grey, but still manages to appear cheerful. there's a small room off to the side with beat-up washing machine and a rainbow of cleaning supplies. he doesn't linger on these ㅡ though there's some appeal in not having to take his laundry off-site ㅡ before moving on to the living room.
the living room is ... nice. it's better than nice, actually. it's downright cozy. the small space packed with comfortable furniture and shelves upon shelves of books. ) How much of these, do you think, are actually readable?
( aleksander doesn't seem especially put out about it, at least. the idea of having a library of any sort is only marginally more attractive than the idea of living somewhere other than his current apartment.
and he'll be able to fill the shelves himself with time. )
Though one would think that a city driven by sex would be significantly less formulaic about it. ( this said idly as he departs from the room, heading toward the bedroom. )
You're criticizing their approach? [ not the overall issues themselves, but the tone? alina snorts. she wanders after him, not really thinking hard about what else there is to see and where, therefore, they'll wind up. ] It's not as if centuries have made you particularly inventive.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
But it grows on you eventually. ( like a fungus. )
Yes. Near the market.
no subject
[ not the man who would be king. ]
no subject
( and he's made a sufficient impression on the local gangs that he's been largely left unmolested. )
And the food is better.
no subject
[ she notices the lack of people watching them. the same group of gang members that had been eyeing her on her way in stay occupied in their card game as she walks with aleksander.
it rankles her a bit. she and jess had cloistered themselves in the delicto office away from this same element, but aleksander has merely made an impression. so it's with a frown on her face that she finishes, ]
But not better than the Up. You obviously just haven't sampled widely.
no subject
( no wonder the witch hunters are so miserable. )
But, no. I confess sampling the food from the Up wasn't ever a priority.
no subject
[ how long had it been since ravka had reasonable access to things like cocoa and sugar in the quantities people used it here? for saint's sake, they put chocolate sauce on their bodies. ]
Especially if made by experts.
no subject
( the up must be spoiled for choice when it comes to pastry chefs and confectionery. the place trades in decadence and overindulgence. )
I don't suppose you've found somewhere that makes decent honey cake?
no subject
[ she had gone recently, in fact, while gift shopping. it turns out sweets and liquor make excellent presents. ]
no subject
( it's not that far of a walk from venia, after all, and one can hardly accuse him of making mischief if he's following up on a recommendation. )
no subject
no subject
honestly, who knew secondhand sex toys were a thing?
past the market, they take a left turn and then another, which brings them to a row of townhouses in various states of repair. the one in his picture is third down, its bright door a beacon. )
no subject
he would never wind up in that situation, though. would he?
she stops in front of the townhouse, not far, and surveys it. ]
Is it the whole building? [ she approaches the front gate, where the little atrium has multiple doorbells. she has never seen that in the up. ]
no subject
he presses the button and a buzzer sounds. moments later the door loosens and he shoulders it open for her. )
no subject
no subject
there isn't much distance between them and the door, now, but before they can reach it, he ventures: )
Tell me that he takes care of you, your new friend. That he knows your worth.
no subject
[ like she belongs to him, and he's made the mistake of letting someone else look after her for a time, and he's worried what condition she'll come back in. this isn't fair, of course. it's a neutral enough question. but coming out of him, it seems that way. ]
Reggie's a good man. [ a man. not a boy, anymore, and still he hasn't turned his back on her or changed his mind. ] I like him. And he's never asked for anything from me except my company.
no subject
( a little wave at the collar at his throat. the line marking his throat.
it's not a denial, of course, because there's always going to be that part of him ㅡ the lonely, hungry part ㅡ that wants to curl around her like a dragon guarding its hoard.
still, he nods at her description of reggie ㅡ who will always be a boy to him. )
I'm glad.
no subject
[ she withdraws her hand from his, nervous about the question, frowning. it hasn't escaped her that he told her to keep information about reggie to a minimum. that he knew he couldn't be trusted with it. ]
no subject
( there's always the chance that he's too much like baghra, of course. or that he allowed his ambition to utterly swallow his joy.
regardless, it's probably not the sort of conversation outside like this, where anyone could witness. after holding her gaze for a drawn out moment, he breaks the contact, turning his attention back to the hall. )
The key's meant to be under a mat.
no subject
this isn't how house-shopping in the up had been. there'd been a man who showed her places, curated them. who'd negotiated times to visit and gotten the key out of a lock box. but this isn't the up.
she lets the darkling in first, then follows after and shuts the door on what might be his new apartment. ]
no subject
or as clean as anything gets in the down.
the kitchen is larger than the one in the current apartment, with room for the pair of them to manouver. the walls are painted in a shade of blue that flirts closer with grey, but still manages to appear cheerful. there's a small room off to the side with beat-up washing machine and a rainbow of cleaning supplies. he doesn't linger on these ㅡ though there's some appeal in not having to take his laundry off-site ㅡ before moving on to the living room.
the living room is ... nice. it's better than nice, actually. it's downright cozy. the small space packed with comfortable furniture and shelves upon shelves of books. ) How much of these, do you think, are actually readable?
no subject
[ it's the down, after all. but she regards the shelves with some mild interest. her nose crinkles, though. ]
Even if they do, I suspect I can already tell you their endings. Every book I've read here has been on a certain, ah, predictable theme.
no subject
( aleksander doesn't seem especially put out about it, at least. the idea of having a library of any sort is only marginally more attractive than the idea of living somewhere other than his current apartment.
and he'll be able to fill the shelves himself with time. )
Though one would think that a city driven by sex would be significantly less formulaic about it. ( this said idly as he departs from the room, heading toward the bedroom. )
no subject
no subject
( idly put despite the fact that they're supposed to not be doing that anymore, tumenalia notwithstanding.
he's looking over his shoulder now, brows lifting slightly: part tease, part challenge. )
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)