[ There was a time not even that long ago that the people of Sumeru, as a collective whole, took pride in the fact that they didn't dream. For his part, Kaveh has never been one of those people. On his trips to the further-flung reaches of the rainforest and desert, when the dreams were able to slip in unimpeded by his Akasha Terminal, he slept in vivid beauty, images of all sorts appearing to him in his sleep, uninvited but welcome. And while many scholars claimed that to dream was to be disconnected from wisdom, the architect always took a certain kind of pride in the ideas that came to his mind while he slumbered. He never talked about it, of course— it would have been akin to professional suicide— but he took pride in it nonetheless.
And now everyone can dream all the time, and there are certainly some among them who are bitter about it, but to Kaveh it's one of the real blessings that have come hand in hand with their freedom from the Akademiya's corruption.
Usually, anyway. Not this morning, when he's woken up with a raging headache and a scowl on his face on account of the dream still fresh at the edges of his mind. The cruelest one yet, because unlike the others it didn't stop purely at sex, but at something softer: with feelings, with soft kisses to the crown of his head and fondness reflected back at him from emerald eyes.
...Didn't he bring someone back home? And yet, his bedroom is empty and his door open—
And actually, he notices, hanging halfway off its hinges. Surprise lifts Kaveh's brows as a surprised exhale slips past his lips: ]
Okay, what the fuck?
[ Standing from the bed— and decidedly ignoring the way the world tilts around him, his center of gravity still disturbed enough that nausea seems likely to follow the pounding of his head at any moment— he scrapes his hair into a loose bun and pulls on the first errant pair of underwear (tight black shorts) that he sees before walking straight out into the living room, ruby eyes scanning the surfaces in front of him until they land on his silver-haired roommate, sitting with a book in one hand and a mug of coffee in the other.
Also, he's half-naked.
Kaveh swallows, his eyes scanning the muscled surface of the other's torso in a manner both completely obvious and completely unintended. And when he speaks, his voice isn't anywhere near as loud or strident as he intended for it to be. ]
Do you know what happened to my door? It's broken.
electric boogaloo redux (there are no memes for "part 3", why is this my life)
And now everyone can dream all the time, and there are certainly some among them who are bitter about it, but to Kaveh it's one of the real blessings that have come hand in hand with their freedom from the Akademiya's corruption.
Usually, anyway. Not this morning, when he's woken up with a raging headache and a scowl on his face on account of the dream still fresh at the edges of his mind. The cruelest one yet, because unlike the others it didn't stop purely at sex, but at something softer: with feelings, with soft kisses to the crown of his head and fondness reflected back at him from emerald eyes.
...Didn't he bring someone back home? And yet, his bedroom is empty and his door open—
And actually, he notices, hanging halfway off its hinges. Surprise lifts Kaveh's brows as a surprised exhale slips past his lips: ]
Okay, what the fuck?
[ Standing from the bed— and decidedly ignoring the way the world tilts around him, his center of gravity still disturbed enough that nausea seems likely to follow the pounding of his head at any moment— he scrapes his hair into a loose bun and pulls on the first errant pair of underwear (tight black shorts) that he sees before walking straight out into the living room, ruby eyes scanning the surfaces in front of him until they land on his silver-haired roommate, sitting with a book in one hand and a mug of coffee in the other.
Also, he's half-naked.
Kaveh swallows, his eyes scanning the muscled surface of the other's torso in a manner both completely obvious and completely unintended. And when he speaks, his voice isn't anywhere near as loud or strident as he intended for it to be. ]
Do you know what happened to my door? It's broken.