Danae says, "No, you really don't understand," and grips at her short, dark hair. The whites show all the way around her eyes, or Triss figures that's what the flash of searingly pale blue means. Not all the colors she's seeing make perfect sense, as her brain struggles to translate this new extra sense. "There's only eight of them."
Eight of who?
"Seven, I think," Ruth reaches out to touch her knee gently as she corrects that statement. This does nothing to disentangle Danae's hands from her hair, to staunch the weird strangled noise she's making. Argus bites down on a smile and leans back in his chair.
"No, now it's eight," he's looking right at Triss, and despite what he's doing with his mouth there's something odd in his eyes. It's not fear, she knows exactly what those stares look and feel like, but it's not...not fear. Eight of WHO? Triss kind of squirms at that, but luckily Hannibal, always interested and encouraging about the magic stuff, prompts her directly.
"It's all colors. I mean lights? Lights but they're colors but they're all in little pieces like dust?" she tears her eyes away from their now-glowing guests, from the shining books, and looks up at him with a small frown. What did he mean by 'no keeping anything from you now'? What was he keeping from her before? She's about to ask when she gets sidetracked by a weird glow in his pocket. It's reddish, kind of like Ruth, but not the exact same red. A grassy green something glimmers behind it. Triss' frown dips lower as she puzzles that out, before deciding: "You've got two magic things in your pocket?"
She didn't even know he had magic stuff, except for old books he'd warned her not to touch 'cuz some of the writing in them might be for real spells. All her anxiety and guilt gets set aside for a minute in place of an accusing pout - he said he wasn't like her, he couldn't use magic!
"Busted," Danae murmurs, while Argus puts his fist to his mouth and shakes silently.
"Maybe Lesson One should be 'you don't have to blurt everything you see," Ruth says, but she's smiling fondly at, like everyone, so Triss doesn't mind the assumption that they've got stuff to teach her so much.
"But all the colors are dif'rent!" she starts to reach for one of the books to demonstrate, before remembering that A) most of the others can't see what she's seeing and B) they're Very Old and Not For Touching, Patricia. She transfers her accusatory stare to Argus instead. "What d'they mean?"
He leans his cheek against his fist and raises his eyebrows, smiling bemusedly, "I have no idea," he says. "I don't perceive it as colors or lights. I hear them."
Oh. "Is that why you keep going like--"
The gesture's hard to explain, so she cocks her head to the side and furrows her eyebrows at him, a piece of mimicry that sets both Danae and Ruth off into badly smothered laughter. Argus twists in his chair to treat them both to a really not-amused face and a sigh. "Yeah, something like that."
no subject
Eight of who?
"Seven, I think," Ruth reaches out to touch her knee gently as she corrects that statement. This does nothing to disentangle Danae's hands from her hair, to staunch the weird strangled noise she's making. Argus bites down on a smile and leans back in his chair.
"No, now it's eight," he's looking right at Triss, and despite what he's doing with his mouth there's something odd in his eyes. It's not fear, she knows exactly what those stares look and feel like, but it's not...not fear. Eight of WHO? Triss kind of squirms at that, but luckily Hannibal, always interested and encouraging about the magic stuff, prompts her directly.
"It's all colors. I mean lights? Lights but they're colors but they're all in little pieces like dust?" she tears her eyes away from their now-glowing guests, from the shining books, and looks up at him with a small frown. What did he mean by 'no keeping anything from you now'? What was he keeping from her before? She's about to ask when she gets sidetracked by a weird glow in his pocket. It's reddish, kind of like Ruth, but not the exact same red. A grassy green something glimmers behind it. Triss' frown dips lower as she puzzles that out, before deciding: "You've got two magic things in your pocket?"
She didn't even know he had magic stuff, except for old books he'd warned her not to touch 'cuz some of the writing in them might be for real spells. All her anxiety and guilt gets set aside for a minute in place of an accusing pout - he said he wasn't like her, he couldn't use magic!
"Busted," Danae murmurs, while Argus puts his fist to his mouth and shakes silently.
"Maybe Lesson One should be 'you don't have to blurt everything you see," Ruth says, but she's smiling fondly at, like everyone, so Triss doesn't mind the assumption that they've got stuff to teach her so much.
"But all the colors are dif'rent!" she starts to reach for one of the books to demonstrate, before remembering that A) most of the others can't see what she's seeing and B) they're Very Old and Not For Touching, Patricia. She transfers her accusatory stare to Argus instead. "What d'they mean?"
He leans his cheek against his fist and raises his eyebrows, smiling bemusedly, "I have no idea," he says. "I don't perceive it as colors or lights. I hear them."
Oh. "Is that why you keep going like--"
The gesture's hard to explain, so she cocks her head to the side and furrows her eyebrows at him, a piece of mimicry that sets both Danae and Ruth off into badly smothered laughter. Argus twists in his chair to treat them both to a really not-amused face and a sigh. "Yeah, something like that."