...fuck, there's - fox and hound, I don't want to tell you this, but I should, if you really -
There's a recording of him. From that flood. If you - it's what made me realize how much I could be missing, how much I had to find out.
The first time he changed me, I think. If you want to see it. You don't have to, I told you the main bit already. Or you could watch it...later, when you're not so hurt already.
It's so fucking funny, though. Under all the awful. I can see him deciding never to use a short body again, just because Shiang isn't paying enough attention to him. And then he does it for the next four hundred years, ages after she dies. Vain bastard.
[There's something terrible, terribly fond, mixed in with Jedao's contempt. It would be so much easier to separate Quentin from Kujen if part of Jedao didn't love them both. Complicated people, indeed.]
Well, that's dumb. This body is not as much fun as it's cracked up to be. May he have found a hundred bad backs and a drastically increasing eyeglass prescriptions.
I'll just have to get used to wearing fuschia or something. What's your favourite colour?
He'd have fixed all that when he was cutting your tenderness out. Perks of the package when selling the rest of your life.
You've seen my room. Anything, really. Jewel tones and neons. Any shade of purple. There's a gold that's lighter than Shuos and Kel gold, kind of honey colored, that makes me think of fresh hay. Any green except ray green, any blue except rose.
Jedao catches him up in both arms, carries him back through the door hanging slightly open. He sits on more or less the first piece of furniture he finds - it doesn't matter - cuddling Quentin close, dropping soft little kisses between his ears.
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...fuck, there's - fox and hound, I don't want to tell you this, but I should, if you really -
There's a recording of him. From that flood. If you - it's what made me realize how much I could be missing, how much I had to find out.
The first time he changed me, I think. If you want to see it. You don't have to, I told you the main bit already. Or you could watch it...later, when you're not so hurt already.
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[He proposes, breathing getting nice and slow and easy.]
Can I read to you?
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[There's something terrible, terribly fond, mixed in with Jedao's contempt. It would be so much easier to separate Quentin from Kujen if part of Jedao didn't love them both. Complicated people, indeed.]
Yeah. That'd be nice.
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[Says Quentin, years late to the party.]
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[His voice goes just a bit dry again; so, yeah.]
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I'll just have to get used to wearing fuschia or something. What's your favourite colour?
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You've seen my room. Anything, really. Jewel tones and neons. Any shade of purple. There's a gold that's lighter than Shuos and Kel gold, kind of honey colored, that makes me think of fresh hay. Any green except ray green, any blue except rose.
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I don't know what ray is, but olive's like those corduroys I have. The ones I love and you think don't fit.
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It's like...
[There's a soft rustling sound, and the camera comes on. A small bronze paperweight is enameled with a stingray sigil.]
That's ray green.
[It's the same color palette as the robes of the woman performing the Festival of Dust.]
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[Says Quentin, deeply disapproving of whatever that's supposed to be.]
Better show me rose blue, too. Roses are read in my colour scheme.
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[A pause, a flicker - and then it's Jedao's deck of cards, with the little hand painted animal borders, showing the Ace of Roses]
Red's fine.
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[He warns- striking, but like he's lost all the blood in his body.]
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Maybe just accents.
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I'm gonna go poke through the trunk room if you want to spy on me doing something undignified through a peephole.
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I love you.
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"Did you want to lead me somewhere, or are you just a restless fluff, huhn?"
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