[fic] [31_days] Matantei Loki Ragnarok
may 2 | one by one the nights will fall
these things, you know, they just happen. >_. i think i may write snippet-y bits for most of 31_days, and then see if i can coax them into proper fic-like pieces after the month ends. or, you know, i might just leave them be.
---
After its rebirth, the moon has no problems falling back into a pattern. Neither does he, though the routine he now adopts is not the one he left behind. He spends less time in the library, for a start, and a little more outside the castle's cold walls. He no longer eats alone, now that she is here -- but while once he had imagined that the food would taste the better for it, he is finding that that may not be the case.
Tonight, as with every other night, they eat in silence. (He does not wonder where the food on the table comes from, even though Koko is no longer in the castle and has not been since his death. Perhaps the castle, like much of Utgard, runs itself well enough.) Forks clink against cold plates, spoons scoop bowls dry, and by now he knows that he has learnt those words well enough. Say it straight: it hurts. Not quite like cold steel through the heart, mind; that is an altogether messier and, quite frankly, more intense sort of pain. But pain is pain, and though it is something she has taught him, he cannot help but wish that there were another pattern for their days to fall into.
Dinner ends with dessert, which is sweet, and then wine, which is not. He reaches to pour her a glass -- and spills the wine over the empty ice-cream dish, across the tablecloth, and very nearly into her lap, in the first real disruption to their routine.
The second: she laughs.
♠
The next morning he asks her what she would like for breakfast, and sets the table with a wave of his hand. The food, owing to a lack of practice, is inexpertly conjured. But it is a start.
these things, you know, they just happen. >_. i think i may write snippet-y bits for most of 31_days, and then see if i can coax them into proper fic-like pieces after the month ends. or, you know, i might just leave them be.
---
After its rebirth, the moon has no problems falling back into a pattern. Neither does he, though the routine he now adopts is not the one he left behind. He spends less time in the library, for a start, and a little more outside the castle's cold walls. He no longer eats alone, now that she is here -- but while once he had imagined that the food would taste the better for it, he is finding that that may not be the case.
Tonight, as with every other night, they eat in silence. (He does not wonder where the food on the table comes from, even though Koko is no longer in the castle and has not been since his death. Perhaps the castle, like much of Utgard, runs itself well enough.) Forks clink against cold plates, spoons scoop bowls dry, and by now he knows that he has learnt those words well enough. Say it straight: it hurts. Not quite like cold steel through the heart, mind; that is an altogether messier and, quite frankly, more intense sort of pain. But pain is pain, and though it is something she has taught him, he cannot help but wish that there were another pattern for their days to fall into.
Dinner ends with dessert, which is sweet, and then wine, which is not. He reaches to pour her a glass -- and spills the wine over the empty ice-cream dish, across the tablecloth, and very nearly into her lap, in the first real disruption to their routine.
The second: she laughs.
♠
The next morning he asks her what she would like for breakfast, and sets the table with a wave of his hand. The food, owing to a lack of practice, is inexpertly conjured. But it is a start.