Even that passive curiosity is enough to make Antarcticite shift with transparent discomfort, returning each mildly intrigued glance with a sharp, reproving one of their own. (like who raised you to exist around other people so brazenly, go somewhere else.) They follow closely at Rutile's side, well aware that their stand-offish behaviour probably won't conceal the root cause of their discomfort; that they're just not accustomed to being around this many people, and there's frankly nothing to be done about it.
They do as Rutile instructs them without protest, seating themselves at the table and angling their leg so that the light falls across the cracks in their structure clearly. “This is a glue synthesized in Aifaran. It’s much stronger than what I could make at home, though it also dries faster and requires a defter hand.”
Antarcticite makes a relieved sound and says, "Then I am glad you're here to fix this. My own skills are so rudimentary." Necessity required that they learn a bit of Rutile's trade, but they haven't had the centuries of time and dedication required to perfect that craft.
“This is quite impressive that you are so solid at such a temperature.”
For a moment they are quiet and don't offer up a response. Instead they look at their hands again, unsettled by their frosted, crystalline appearance while the air around them is still heavy with the heat of summer. "I worry it won't last for long," they admit quietly, betraying for a moment their (relative) youth and the anxiety that they've been carrying since their arrival here. "Without the basin that Sensei kept for me, I worry I'll go to sleep some night and not wake up. It won't be any different from being shattered."
no subject
They do as Rutile instructs them without protest, seating themselves at the table and angling their leg so that the light falls across the cracks in their structure clearly. “This is a glue synthesized in Aifaran. It’s much stronger than what I could make at home, though it also dries faster and requires a defter hand.”
Antarcticite makes a relieved sound and says, "Then I am glad you're here to fix this. My own skills are so rudimentary." Necessity required that they learn a bit of Rutile's trade, but they haven't had the centuries of time and dedication required to perfect that craft.
“This is quite impressive that you are so solid at such a temperature.”
For a moment they are quiet and don't offer up a response. Instead they look at their hands again, unsettled by their frosted, crystalline appearance while the air around them is still heavy with the heat of summer. "I worry it won't last for long," they admit quietly, betraying for a moment their (relative) youth and the anxiety that they've been carrying since their arrival here. "Without the basin that Sensei kept for me, I worry I'll go to sleep some night and not wake up. It won't be any different from being shattered."
There it is; they do remember.