[ That person had been a phantom, an afterimage of another life that fades and recedes swiftly from the banks of memory. A different man might grasp for that dwindling echo, might close his eyes and press the image to the back of lids in the hopes of inscribing it along the surface of retinal nerves, but he is not such a man.
No, for this creature whose memory is like a vault of secrets and lives never his own, he turns away from that lingering sense of nostalgia. Banishes it somewhere too far and too removed to become personal.
(Even so, his chest aches, the space between his ribs and lungs abraded with the sensation of sand rolling across tender tissues between each breath.)
Lavi's expression stays neutral, caught between the incessant friendliness of one persona and the guarded wariness of another. Whoever that person was, if they truly existed at all, must have been anything but important, for them to have disappeared so quickly from his memories.
(Probably, he tries to rationalize, one of the soldiers he's encountered in his many wars, someone who had ultimately become a mere footnote in the annals of history.)
"...You've many stories to share, I'm sure of it."
Yes, he thinks, wry smile twisting at his lips, but they're not meant for you. ]
Sure. [ --easily delivered, as always, his hand hovering at his chin as if in readiness to clean his expression again-- ] I'm a cheap date. Get me half-edible food and I'll talk your ear off anytime.
[ But he'll say nothing when he does. He'll speak and words will form like spells to cast an illusion of communication, obscuring pleasant nothings and almost-somethings in a veil of geniality.
He yawns, exaggerating his movements, hand twisted so that his mouth is concealed by the backs of knuckles. It's not entirely subtle, the cue, but nothing about this interaction strikes him as subtle to begin with. ]
Think I've been reading too long. I'm gonna grab some shut eye, unless you needed somethin'..?
no subject
No, for this creature whose memory is like a vault of secrets and lives never his own, he turns away from that lingering sense of nostalgia. Banishes it somewhere too far and too removed to become personal.
(Even so, his chest aches, the space between his ribs and lungs abraded with the sensation of sand rolling across tender tissues between each breath.)
Lavi's expression stays neutral, caught between the incessant friendliness of one persona and the guarded wariness of another. Whoever that person was, if they truly existed at all, must have been anything but important, for them to have disappeared so quickly from his memories.
(Probably, he tries to rationalize, one of the soldiers he's encountered in his many wars, someone who had ultimately become a mere footnote in the annals of history.)
"...You've many stories to share, I'm sure of it."
Yes, he thinks, wry smile twisting at his lips, but they're not meant for you. ]
Sure. [ --easily delivered, as always, his hand hovering at his chin as if in readiness to clean his expression again-- ] I'm a cheap date. Get me half-edible food and I'll talk your ear off anytime.
[ But he'll say nothing when he does. He'll speak and words will form like spells to cast an illusion of communication, obscuring pleasant nothings and almost-somethings in a veil of geniality.
He yawns, exaggerating his movements, hand twisted so that his mouth is concealed by the backs of knuckles. It's not entirely subtle, the cue, but nothing about this interaction strikes him as subtle to begin with. ]
Think I've been reading too long. I'm gonna grab some shut eye, unless you needed somethin'..?
[ Politely: stop emoting, he's running away now. ]