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Fight! Fight! Pillow fight!
[For someone so fixated on the concept of fairness, Somnus was never known for observing formalities. The Oracle has retired after a trying day, a servant tells him, and must be allowed her rest. He brushes the night guard aside with the snap of his wrist, and it's a matter of seconds before he's striding across the chamber to where Aera slumbers. That she looks so peaceful where she lies doesn't deter him in the slightest.
His brother might scold him for his brusqueness, if he were here. He isn't.]
Oracle—
His brother might scold him for his brusqueness, if he were here. He isn't.]
Oracle—

no subject
I look forward to it.
[ He rises. As far as he's concerned, they've reached an agreement and this preliminary conversation is over. His men are still out there. ]
My men are waiting. Once I've dismissed them and gathered intelligence for the next march, I'll send for you.
[ Which is to say that he'll go to her. It's much more efficient that way. ]
no subject
As do I.
[ Sort of. Mostly. But when he stands she does too, and once again she's striding up to him with a purpose. Except she does not move to slap him again, no. She pushes herself up onto her toes to press a kiss against the same cheek she struck earlier. ]
I'm sorry I lashed out at you. Go, do what you must, we will talk later.
no subject
Yes. [ He approaches the door, unlocks it, and steps past the threshold. ] We will.
[ The gods have made their choice, and so has he. He has much and more to think about . . . But finally—finally—he'll be acknowledged. ]