In life (and perhaps in afterlife too) there were moments of stasis and moments of becoming, all of which eventually settled up to the metamorphosis that resulted in what a person was meant to be. Not to be confused with some kind of inevitable complacency, but the idea that a soul eventually came into itself in its entirety, that a person could and would reach their full potential given enough time and a bit of luck - which Lotte believed wholeheartedly - it was impossible that this moment didn't fall into one such stage of becoming.
The destination was still unclear, shrouded in choices she had long yet to make, but the thrill of a destination that wasn't this place, this her was more than enough fuel for the flame that burned inside of her.
She didn't make any further move to advance on Alastor, there wasn't any need. She'd gotten him to move at all, which was all she'd wanted and hoped for, and she wasn't foolhardy enough to touch him without permission. Still, a victory unto itself, and one she would savor just as fondly as the whiskey sitting on her table back inside the house, and just as long too. Maybe longer.
Alastor seemed to chew on her request for a beat, and then another as a shrill static crackled through the air, and she found the stillness... odd. Real. He was usually such a creature of motion, moments when he didn't interact with the space around him were the rests in a bar of music, silent but certainly not still.
But then, people with the most to hide from usually were that way, and who didn't end up in hell that didn't have something following them to the grave.
Lotte hadn't really expected any of that carefully veneered facade to break, anyway - the raised hackles and spindling limbs from the blood letting had no place here. There was a moment, though, quick and sharp as lightning, when she thought she saw a shift in his pupils - a narrowing.
And then Alastor was happening again at full speed, shrugging good-naturedly as he played along with the little game she'd laid out for them.
"Well, what manners!" She hummed, pleased and not in any mood to hide it. Her hands clasped behind her, in part to prevent the eager crackling around her fingertips at the possibility such an agreement offered. "As it happens, Alastor, I'd absolutely love to."
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In life (and perhaps in afterlife too) there were moments of stasis and moments of becoming, all of which eventually settled up to the metamorphosis that resulted in what a person was meant to be. Not to be confused with some kind of inevitable complacency, but the idea that a soul eventually came into itself in its entirety, that a person could and would reach their full potential given enough time and a bit of luck - which Lotte believed wholeheartedly - it was impossible that this moment didn't fall into one such stage of becoming.
The destination was still unclear, shrouded in choices she had long yet to make, but the thrill of a destination that wasn't this place, this her was more than enough fuel for the flame that burned inside of her.
She didn't make any further move to advance on Alastor, there wasn't any need. She'd gotten him to move at all, which was all she'd wanted and hoped for, and she wasn't foolhardy enough to touch him without permission. Still, a victory unto itself, and one she would savor just as fondly as the whiskey sitting on her table back inside the house, and just as long too. Maybe longer.
Alastor seemed to chew on her request for a beat, and then another as a shrill static crackled through the air, and she found the stillness... odd. Real. He was usually such a creature of motion, moments when he didn't interact with the space around him were the rests in a bar of music, silent but certainly not still.
But then, people with the most to hide from usually were that way, and who didn't end up in hell that didn't have something following them to the grave.
Lotte hadn't really expected any of that carefully veneered facade to break, anyway - the raised hackles and spindling limbs from the blood letting had no place here. There was a moment, though, quick and sharp as lightning, when she thought she saw a shift in his pupils - a narrowing.
And then Alastor was happening again at full speed, shrugging good-naturedly as he played along with the little game she'd laid out for them.
"Well, what manners!" She hummed, pleased and not in any mood to hide it. Her hands clasped behind her, in part to prevent the eager crackling around her fingertips at the possibility such an agreement offered. "As it happens, Alastor, I'd absolutely love to."