[ He's still brushing dust and sand out of his hair, even as he's pulling into the southern gates of Sumeru.
Lots of things have changed in the city since the Grand Sages stepped down, but the culture of the place hasn't changed. The city is still obsessed with knowledge in the ways that matter, and no small number of scholars and Akademiya students are eyeing the large bundle of books strapped into Aether's pack as he trudges through the city, unbothered — but definitely unbalanced — by its weight. The heavy volumes he's carrying — they just look good. Mysterious, with runes that signal heritage from the desert. Students no longer trade illicit bouquets of Canned Knowledge on the black market, but more than a few would be tempted to offer the contents of their wallets for the mysterious tomes in Aether's bag, if only they had the coin to pay him.
Unfortunately for him, he's not all that interested in Mora.
There's only one scholar he'd trust with the contents of his bag, not least because most of the books — he can read them thanks to Liloupar's blessing, though explaining that would be a tale and a half all on its own — are about sensitive topics like the history behind King Deshret's reign and the true nature of the Goddess of Flowers, and Aether wouldn't entrust that knowledge to someone who might be biased about it. Surprisingly enough, it hadn't been all that hard to find books in good condition out in the desert; the desert-dwellers' pyramids and tombs had been well-insulated against wind and moisture and sun, and so most of the books are in excellent condition, perhaps at worst somewhat brittle. It's not that he doesn't trust the desert-dwellers to record their own history, of course, but things are complicated by culture; Sethos, for example, seems to be an active worshipper of Al-Ahmar, and Aether doesn't engage with him on it. It would be strange, for Aether to tell Sethos that he doesn't have a favorable impression of King Deshret because he lied to a friend.
After everything — despite everything she did, every horrible word she said, every crime committed, and every sin rendered — after everything, Liloupar had really been — a friend.
Anyway. Whatever. More important than all of that is the fact that Aether was serious when he said that he wanted to make Alhaitham smile, so he makes his way to the residential district where he knows he can find Alhaitham's house. At this hour, the man should be off work, though whether the person who answers the door is him or his roommate remains to be seen...
Patiently, Aether knocks. Shifts the backpack of books on his shoulder. Waits patiently. Sort of half-calls through the window, but not too loudly; he doesn't want to make a scene. ]
[For all the upheavel that comes with turning one's government upside down, one thing that remains a constant is that Alhaitham's home rarely sees visitors. Despite his widened social circle. Despite that Kaveh looks over his shoulder less coming too and from. This is just the way he likes it.
It does make the knocking stand out in the currently quiet abode. Alhaitham looks up from his spot upon the divan, weighing the possibilities of who it could be. If Kaveh was back from the overtime he decided to take to help the students of his guest lecture, the banging would be much louder. Tighnari should be in Gandharva Ville, Dehya doesn't know where he lives, and Cyno wouldn't show up on his doorstep unless there was an absolute emergency. So his initial estimate is that it's either a frivilous solicitor, or he's about to be dealing with trouble.
And then Aether's voice carries through. But Alhaitham can't say he's bothered about being wrong this time.
The book he's currently reading is snapped shut and left behind on the table as he goes to unlock the door. He looks down as it opens, the slightest quirk of his lips to see Aether overburdened with texts.]
You kept your promise sooner than expected. [As it was never a question whether Aether would.] Thank you.
[He steps back as he opens the door the rest of the way to allow Aether in, only closing the locking the door once he's within the foyer. Aside from some of the decor moving around, and a new and particularly unpleasant carving on the nearest shelf, very little has changed.]
You must have come straight from the desert to be in this state. Wait here. [The quick pivot on his heels, and then Alhaitham exits stage left.
He returns shortly with offer of a hand towel to dust off.]
Not even cuteattractive, the way any handsome man's smile can be pleasing to look at; no, Aether thinks Alhaitham's smile is cute. Like adorable. There are ways in which the intimidating scholar is not unlike a large, fluffy animal, and his rare moments of pleasure are one of them.
Anyway — the smile in itself is Aether's own reward. His job is done now. That being said, as he sets the backpack of books down on the floor, the traveler looks up to find Alhaitham offering him a towel. For what? Oh... his hair. ]
Oh, thank you. [ Aether accepts it easily, working the towel over his bangs and the top of his head. ] I'm sorry. I don't mean to get dust all over your home...
[ There's only so much hecan do with his hair tied back. It'll be a pain to have to braid it again, but Aether sighs, pulling his feathered hair-tie off the end of his braid in order to let his hair hang loose. All the better to sweep the bits of sand and stone out of his golden locks.
The new sculpture catches his attention as he's toweling off, though he can't get a very clear view of it wish his head at an angle. ]
[It's frankly unfair how endearing Alhaitham's smile is, such is the stance of a Kaveh far too deep in his cups (and me, personally) and lamenting how big and irreverent his junior has become. Alhaitham was always irreverent but that's beside the point. Perhaps it's the simplistic approach to his own pleasure he takes, that Alhaitham's smile is almost pure.
He has been smiling more these days, although it isn't something he's considered consciously. Things are just going well. He has no major complaints life, and indeed many troublesome points have actually improved.]
Dirt can be cleaned up. [By Kaveh, because Alhaitham is absolutely going to get sucked into these books and forget all about that.
He reaches for the bag, hefting it up easily in one hand. He pauses, glancing to the statue.] I didn't ask, as that didn't seem important. Art is meant to be interpreted by its audience, no?
[As Aether sorts his hair, Alhaitham deposits the bag on the rightmost divan. That's probably also getting sand on the cushion. Oh well.]
Do you want coffee? [A question and an invitation both.]
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no subject
Lots of things have changed in the city since the Grand Sages stepped down, but the culture of the place hasn't changed. The city is still obsessed with knowledge in the ways that matter, and no small number of scholars and Akademiya students are eyeing the large bundle of books strapped into Aether's pack as he trudges through the city, unbothered — but definitely unbalanced — by its weight. The heavy volumes he's carrying — they just look good. Mysterious, with runes that signal heritage from the desert. Students no longer trade illicit bouquets of Canned Knowledge on the black market, but more than a few would be tempted to offer the contents of their wallets for the mysterious tomes in Aether's bag, if only they had the coin to pay him.
Unfortunately for him, he's not all that interested in Mora.
There's only one scholar he'd trust with the contents of his bag, not least because most of the books — he can read them thanks to Liloupar's blessing, though explaining that would be a tale and a half all on its own — are about sensitive topics like the history behind King Deshret's reign and the true nature of the Goddess of Flowers, and Aether wouldn't entrust that knowledge to someone who might be biased about it. Surprisingly enough, it hadn't been all that hard to find books in good condition out in the desert; the desert-dwellers' pyramids and tombs had been well-insulated against wind and moisture and sun, and so most of the books are in excellent condition, perhaps at worst somewhat brittle. It's not that he doesn't trust the desert-dwellers to record their own history, of course, but things are complicated by culture; Sethos, for example, seems to be an active worshipper of Al-Ahmar, and Aether doesn't engage with him on it. It would be strange, for Aether to tell Sethos that he doesn't have a favorable impression of King Deshret because he lied to a friend.
After everything — despite everything she did, every horrible word she said, every crime committed, and every sin rendered — after everything, Liloupar had really been — a friend.
Anyway. Whatever. More important than all of that is the fact that Aether was serious when he said that he wanted to make Alhaitham smile, so he makes his way to the residential district where he knows he can find Alhaitham's house. At this hour, the man should be off work, though whether the person who answers the door is him or his roommate remains to be seen...
Patiently, Aether knocks. Shifts the backpack of books on his shoulder. Waits patiently. Sort of half-calls through the window, but not too loudly; he doesn't want to make a scene. ]
Alhaitham? I brought you some books.
no subject
It does make the knocking stand out in the currently quiet abode. Alhaitham looks up from his spot upon the divan, weighing the possibilities of who it could be. If Kaveh was back from the overtime he decided to take to help the students of his guest lecture, the banging would be much louder. Tighnari should be in Gandharva Ville, Dehya doesn't know where he lives, and Cyno wouldn't show up on his doorstep unless there was an absolute emergency. So his initial estimate is that it's either a frivilous solicitor, or he's about to be dealing with trouble.
And then Aether's voice carries through. But Alhaitham can't say he's bothered about being wrong this time.
The book he's currently reading is snapped shut and left behind on the table as he goes to unlock the door. He looks down as it opens, the slightest quirk of his lips to see Aether overburdened with texts.]
You kept your promise sooner than expected. [As it was never a question whether Aether would.] Thank you.
[He steps back as he opens the door the rest of the way to allow Aether in, only closing the locking the door once he's within the foyer. Aside from some of the decor moving around, and a new and particularly unpleasant carving on the nearest shelf, very little has changed.]
You must have come straight from the desert to be in this state. Wait here. [The quick pivot on his heels, and then Alhaitham exits stage left.
He returns shortly with offer of a hand towel to dust off.]
no subject
Not even cuteattractive, the way any handsome man's smile can be pleasing to look at; no, Aether thinks Alhaitham's smile is cute. Like adorable. There are ways in which the intimidating scholar is not unlike a large, fluffy animal, and his rare moments of pleasure are one of them.
Anyway — the smile in itself is Aether's own reward. His job is done now. That being said, as he sets the backpack of books down on the floor, the traveler looks up to find Alhaitham offering him a towel. For what? Oh... his hair. ]
Oh, thank you. [ Aether accepts it easily, working the towel over his bangs and the top of his head. ] I'm sorry. I don't mean to get dust all over your home...
[ There's only so much hecan do with his hair tied back. It'll be a pain to have to braid it again, but Aether sighs, pulling his feathered hair-tie off the end of his braid in order to let his hair hang loose. All the better to sweep the bits of sand and stone out of his golden locks.
The new sculpture catches his attention as he's toweling off, though he can't get a very clear view of it wish his head at an angle. ]
What's the statue of? A... bird?
no subject
He has been smiling more these days, although it isn't something he's considered consciously. Things are just going well. He has no major complaints life, and indeed many troublesome points have actually improved.]
Dirt can be cleaned up. [By Kaveh, because Alhaitham is absolutely going to get sucked into these books and forget all about that.
He reaches for the bag, hefting it up easily in one hand. He pauses, glancing to the statue.] I didn't ask, as that didn't seem important. Art is meant to be interpreted by its audience, no?
[As Aether sorts his hair, Alhaitham deposits the bag on the rightmost divan. That's probably also getting sand on the cushion. Oh well.]
Do you want coffee? [A question and an invitation both.]