[ Clyteus feels a long-dead tightness in his throat that he can’t pin entirely on the emotional scene below. Not that it didn’t make that emotion elucidate itself- in his mind- much more easily. A combination of the surge in passion and storytelling on the stage combined with a novel touch of pressure on his hand makes the opera’s dynamic all the more compelling to the beast. Dragons are, of course, fixated on holding and counting and possession of some treasure. In his shifted human form in particular, this makes Clay particularly tactile when it came to intimacy— and he hates it; her physical response to his simple offer of companionship in a hand makes him ache in a way that had absolutely nothing to do with his sexual interest in her.
That irritating feeling in his throat has to be literally swallowed before he will speak around something like that and look like a fool. His Adams apple moves and he instinctively loosens his hold, lifting the thumb an inch in preparation for her hand to pull up. He’s sure it will go to her purse for a trip to the restroom. It feels like the standard intermission protocol.
He looks after her face while the applause dies off- watching her continue to look to the stage a bit longer than a normal attendee would be held by a closed curtain. Clay’s lips part but he doesn’t know what to say. Whatever is happening, Cadence hasn’t experienced it before in his view. There’s such a reluctance to interrupt whatever this show has done to her.
The post-curtain reflection involved in a compelling show were the main reason he would attend. Whether they were comedic, dramatic, tragic or a combination- he enjoyed the musings on past and present life it brought to him. When/if possible, he would love nothing more than to hear another’s thoughts, if of course he found the person to likely hold interesting and critical thoughts.
And there isn’t anyone he’s met in 700 years whose opinions he would like to absorb. His hand doesn’t leave- very tenderly, he squeezes her hand in a belated return.
The dragon tries, patiently as he can, to wait- all this thought in the fleeting but awkwardly prolonged moment she remains focused upon the closed curtain. He can’t fathom what she’s feeling- but this has to be what Cadence looks like when she is… invested? Emotional? After the weeks of arguments, banter, and nights spent together, he still can’t place what this new expression is on her. ]
You sure you’ve seen this before?
[ He offers a (hopefully) light comment at last- something to snap her out of whatever reverie has captured her attention. Clay’s right hand is still holding her left upon her lap. ]
nah i find things to pick on don’t you worry— tbd if it helps.
That irritating feeling in his throat has to be literally swallowed before he will speak around something like that and look like a fool. His Adams apple moves and he instinctively loosens his hold, lifting the thumb an inch in preparation for her hand to pull up. He’s sure it will go to her purse for a trip to the restroom. It feels like the standard intermission protocol.
He looks after her face while the applause dies off- watching her continue to look to the stage a bit longer than a normal attendee would be held by a closed curtain. Clay’s lips part but he doesn’t know what to say. Whatever is happening, Cadence hasn’t experienced it before in his view. There’s such a reluctance to interrupt whatever this show has done to her.
The post-curtain reflection involved in a compelling show were the main reason he would attend. Whether they were comedic, dramatic, tragic or a combination- he enjoyed the musings on past and present life it brought to him. When/if possible, he would love nothing more than to hear another’s thoughts, if of course he found the person to likely hold interesting and critical thoughts.
And there isn’t anyone he’s met in 700 years whose opinions he would like to absorb. His hand doesn’t leave- very tenderly, he squeezes her hand in a belated return.
The dragon tries, patiently as he can, to wait- all this thought in the fleeting but awkwardly prolonged moment she remains focused upon the closed curtain. He can’t fathom what she’s feeling- but this has to be what Cadence looks like when she is… invested? Emotional? After the weeks of arguments, banter, and nights spent together, he still can’t place what this new expression is on her. ]
You sure you’ve seen this before?
[ He offers a (hopefully) light comment at last- something to snap her out of whatever reverie has captured her attention. Clay’s right hand is still holding her left upon her lap. ]