"I suppose." The boy agreed half-heartedly, uncomfortable with the thought that he'd had a golden year of feeling so alive while his schoolmates had experienced nothing of its kind. It made them so difficult to talk to, made him feel foreign and alien as Xeha must have been when he first came to school, nothing but raw, immediate experience and wild visionary dreams to guide him. But Ienzo had none of his Senior's natural magnetism to gather other intellectual misfits to him, or so he'd thought- until he'd had Pevensive here, scrubbing away at the lock.
Should he feel guilty now, for having enjoyed himself for that too-brief window of time? Hadn't Edmund just finished telling him not to punish himself over it? Should he try, perhaps, to throw himself fully into the present and see what happened?
"I've started learning that, watching you?" Ienzo agreed sheepishly, when Edmund admits his deliberateness in trying to coast beneath anyone's radar. "It's better to try to blend in and be a Nobody." It was a little to late for him, who had made a name for himself tailing around with that set of older boys, youngest accepted scholarship kid? Showing up the professors with a quick tongue, assignments done, and then some? Slinking back into the shadows might make his benefactor believe he'd backed the wrong horse, prancing out of the gate and then losing wind less than halfway through, with the departure of his mentors.
But maybe there's something new to fill his sails, named Edmund Pevensie, secretively matured and quietly heretical, making casually indecent proposals while flirting with the shape of his pelvic bone. The warmth of his hands, seeping through the wool of Ienzo's winter trousers, was inviting enough that it left him churning his hips a little in Edmund's hold, muscles in his bottom leading the motion. It wasn't meant to chase that touch away so much as encourage some extra kneading from his fingers, a stir of movement to suggest he still could be stirred.
Especially if no one ever knew.
"I.. think I rather like the sound of that?" He spoke tenatively, his voice a smoothed sort of practiced nimble tiptoe, eyes careful but much surer-footed than the sort of innocent youth who wasn't contemplating a second go at sharing bunkspace. "And tell me," Ienzo swallowed, hands coming together in consideration behind Edmund's head, fingertips scrunching together at the back of his hair. "What would this private club do more of, exactly, aside from taking tipples off our dear History prof's stash?"
"That is..." And here he goes digging in deeper, a shift of his curiousity that blooms with the kind of strange, spiraling intensity that shrinks the rest of the world down to insignificance. A question that probes and hones right in on his schoolfellow's passions, particularly whatever falls outside of cirricular guidance. "What sort of things interest you most, strike your secret fancy, outside of lessons?"
no subject
Should he feel guilty now, for having enjoyed himself for that too-brief window of time? Hadn't Edmund just finished telling him not to punish himself over it? Should he try, perhaps, to throw himself fully into the present and see what happened?
"I've started learning that, watching you?" Ienzo agreed sheepishly, when Edmund admits his deliberateness in trying to coast beneath anyone's radar. "It's better to try to blend in and be a Nobody." It was a little to late for him, who had made a name for himself tailing around with that set of older boys, youngest accepted scholarship kid? Showing up the professors with a quick tongue, assignments done, and then some? Slinking back into the shadows might make his benefactor believe he'd backed the wrong horse, prancing out of the gate and then losing wind less than halfway through, with the departure of his mentors.
But maybe there's something new to fill his sails, named Edmund Pevensie, secretively matured and quietly heretical, making casually indecent proposals while flirting with the shape of his pelvic bone. The warmth of his hands, seeping through the wool of Ienzo's winter trousers, was inviting enough that it left him churning his hips a little in Edmund's hold, muscles in his bottom leading the motion. It wasn't meant to chase that touch away so much as encourage some extra kneading from his fingers, a stir of movement to suggest he still could be stirred.
Especially if no one ever knew.
"I.. think I rather like the sound of that?" He spoke tenatively, his voice a smoothed sort of practiced nimble tiptoe, eyes careful but much surer-footed than the sort of innocent youth who wasn't contemplating a second go at sharing bunkspace. "And tell me," Ienzo swallowed, hands coming together in consideration behind Edmund's head, fingertips scrunching together at the back of his hair. "What would this private club do more of, exactly, aside from taking tipples off our dear History prof's stash?"
"That is..." And here he goes digging in deeper, a shift of his curiousity that blooms with the kind of strange, spiraling intensity that shrinks the rest of the world down to insignificance. A question that probes and hones right in on his schoolfellow's passions, particularly whatever falls outside of cirricular guidance. "What sort of things interest you most, strike your secret fancy, outside of lessons?"