Watching Ienzo, Edmund found himself pondering if standing out a bit more might not have been worth it. The hungry brilliance that burned beneath the calm reserve was something he envied. Ienzo hadn't hidden himself behind a cowardly facade of ordinariness. His thirst for knowledge was more important than his own self-preservation. That seemed the height of assurance to Edmund.
He felt the rise and fall of hips beneath his hands with a roused sense of Ienzo's...practicum in physical affairs. He'd never wanted his own reputation to get around - part and parcel of going unnoticed and unmolested - and chasteness was more convenient all around for that. (Broken with one or two more-or-less successful encounters, and one unpleasant incident his first week back when he'd proven Peter wasn't the only Pevensie who knew how to fight.)
Breaking that streak now wasn't even his intention, not after hearing Ienzo's confessions and finding himself in a comforting stand-in role (which he wasn't even doing a bang-up job of at that). But he liked the scrunch of fingers in his hair, the interest Ienzo showed in him. It didn't feel like a dangerous interest.
"I...guess you could say I'm a reformer type. Not very splashy, but now that the war's over, it's something more practical than, say, code-breaking or espionage." Edmund shrugged off his pursuits as though they were not very important to him, although they were something he certainly planned to study at Oxford and go into law for. "Health services, re-establishment of local business and farming, agencies for soldiers and widows. I'd like to do something decent in the world. Make up for my unsavory hobbies."
He chuckled and threw a glance at the desk that was supposedly full of secrets. "Secret societies are a rarer indulgence for me than sniping restricted books. Or for that matter, tippling a fine cordial." He arched a brow at Ienzo, fingers plying at the strips of flesh girding his coccyx. "As for what our own society should address...the nature of memories sounds like a fine place to start. Since that seems to be one of your areas of expertise."
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Date: 2017-02-20 01:12 am (UTC)He felt the rise and fall of hips beneath his hands with a roused sense of Ienzo's...practicum in physical affairs. He'd never wanted his own reputation to get around - part and parcel of going unnoticed and unmolested - and chasteness was more convenient all around for that. (Broken with one or two more-or-less successful encounters, and one unpleasant incident his first week back when he'd proven Peter wasn't the only Pevensie who knew how to fight.)
Breaking that streak now wasn't even his intention, not after hearing Ienzo's confessions and finding himself in a comforting stand-in role (which he wasn't even doing a bang-up job of at that). But he liked the scrunch of fingers in his hair, the interest Ienzo showed in him. It didn't feel like a dangerous interest.
"I...guess you could say I'm a reformer type. Not very splashy, but now that the war's over, it's something more practical than, say, code-breaking or espionage." Edmund shrugged off his pursuits as though they were not very important to him, although they were something he certainly planned to study at Oxford and go into law for. "Health services, re-establishment of local business and farming, agencies for soldiers and widows. I'd like to do something decent in the world. Make up for my unsavory hobbies."
He chuckled and threw a glance at the desk that was supposedly full of secrets. "Secret societies are a rarer indulgence for me than sniping restricted books. Or for that matter, tippling a fine cordial." He arched a brow at Ienzo, fingers plying at the strips of flesh girding his coccyx. "As for what our own society should address...the nature of memories sounds like a fine place to start. Since that seems to be one of your areas of expertise."