holyposition | IC Inbox

[ Tim lets himself be handled, not that he could put up much of a fight if he wanted to right now, but he doesn't mind, and that's the important thing. He sits with Aemond, shoulder to shoulder, and winces with the chuckle that trickles out of him. Because of course he would find this very page first. ]

Yeah, it is.

And no shoes on the bed, I know you weren't raised in a barn.

[ just as quickly replied— ]

The servants will clean it.

[ he's not taking his shoes off if there's a chance he'll need to be up on his feet and defending themselves against an attack. mind, he still has a missing eye; being highly trained to compensate for the loss does not make it any less of a disadvantage. ]

What happened to the dragons of your world?

They’ve got enough to deal with.

[ What with the corpses. ]

This is, um. A prophecy, sort of. The dragon is mostly symbolic, of a great evil coming to wreck havoc. My grandmother takes it completely literally, but I don’t-- [ Cough cough hack ugh!! ] You know, this isn’t really the most comforting part of the book. Try Psalms.

Do you question the tax collector for doing his duty? It's not blood. It'll wash clean and easily.

[ surely some dirt won't hurt. aemond hums and flips the pages to somewhere closer to the middle of the book, and lands on psalms 78; ]

"I will open my mouth with a parable; I will utter hidden things, things from of old, things we have heard and known, things our ancestors have told us. We will not hide them from their descendants; we will tell the next generation the praiseworthy deeds of the Lord, his power, and the wonders he has done."

[ hm. this sounds familiar— ]

'Tis a book of prophecy, this text? Your God entreats to have witches his own?

[ Picking his battles, picking his battles... ]

It’s not witches. It’s...passing our stories on, building community. You ask a lot of questions.

[ He says it fondly, letting his head slump against Aemond’s shoulder again. A small, affectionate touch. If he builds up enough of them, maybe the sensation of the belt will go away. ]

Only fools accept matters as they are stated, and do not look beyond the given meaning of things.

[ the words of his grandsire echoing through him, spilling from his mouth. he reads on, all the same; the stories are full of fire and brimstone, death and destruction, a vengeful god who has had enough of his subjects and means to remind them of their place.

aemond rather likes it, if he's asked to give an opinion. he even allows tim to brush his cheek on his own shoulder, like a cat does against an ankle.

(like he would, with vhagar's rough scales.) ]

Who is King James?

You're not wrong.

[ A lesson Tim could stand to take to heart a bit more, honestly. ]

He was a king in England, where we...might be right now, about four hundred years ago. Our holy book wasn't written in this language at first, so it's a translation he commissioned.

...I come from a country across the ocean. America. We don't have kings there, but we still use his Bible.

A king of this place, patron to the history of his faith. Mm.

[ it may be like his grandsire's influence, then, or his mother's at court when she had targaryen banners slowly removed and replaced with the seven-pointed star. the lord of light has believers across the kingdom as well. ]

Do you not have your version of the text, then? No... alderman, or governor who would do the same as this king?

It was established largely because people wanted a country where they could worship how they choose, so no, there's no official American version.

[ Tim settles in further, pulling a blanket over himself, and after a moment of thought, throws it wider over Aemond's legs, too. ]

You're planning on staying?

[ a blanket thrown across his legs, and a warm weight against his side. it makes him stutter in his reading, indignation at the audacity warring with the sudden, piercing desire to be treated with this particular softness.

he never shared beds with his siblings when they were growing up. it did not seem proper, when the certainty of marriage between brother and sister remained hanging above their heads. ]

...I can stay.

[ and he does. he stays just long enough for tim to finally sleep, stays an hour longer to see if sleep would hold, and then carefully — quietly — leaves the warmth of the room and let another take watch over the man.

he tucks the sheets around tim's shoulders before he leaves. ]

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🎀 done!