[ He glances up, huffing out a near silent laugh. ]
Suppose I won't, no.
[ He wonders if he'll eventually grow to miss it, though, if only for its absence, if only because he doesn't feel much of anything – neither the heat nor the chill. Even when he picks things up, pushes things around, he doesn't quite feel it. Just knows when something is in his grasp, knows how much pressure to apply or how much to hold back.
He doesn't quite feel. He just... is.
His gaze flits away again, and despite his best efforts, despite how he tries to shove it away, the melancholy sinks in. He feels that, at least, emotions. Sadness, annoyance, anger. Happiness, too, and he thinks on how strange that is, that he should actually find something to be happy about in this state. Something to laugh about or smile at, when what he is should be a constant source of dread or despair, ungodly as he is. Some sort of entity beyond the realm of possibility or understanding.
But he is happy more often than he isn't, odd though that is; he finds things to joke about, things to discuss with Emma, finds joy in the way she smiles and laughs (though he shies away from delving into the whys of that). And for now, that's enough to stave off the worst of his darkened mood.
Faraday trudges over to the hearth, steps silent despite how they drag, and after a bit of concentration, lifts up nearby log and tosses it onto the fire. He grabs hold of the poker next, brow creased with focus, and stokes the flame. ]
Go on, then. Ain't you got your dinner to attend to?
[ the drop in faraday's mood isn't especially hard to miss, but emma doesn't think to draw attention to it, not now. it must be a sore spot, she reckons, to realize how much one would lose in an existence such as faraday's. not alive, not experiencing life like those around him, but still present enough that he sees it all go by, invisible to the world, except in the eyes of one woman.
what a strange life, to be seen by one person alone, while effectively having his existence seem void otherwise.
she's appreciative of the way he sees to the fire, and it makes a quick difference, enough for her to leave her shawl behind to head into the kitchen again. ]
I suppose I ought to, as long as I'm guaranteed to have no further startling experiences while I'm at it.
[ she casts a pointed look towards him, but it's not especially disgruntled - there's almost a teasing edge to it, even. ]
I doubt the doctor would appreciate another visit this evening.
[ and she sure would like to avoid any further stitches in the immediate future. she doesn't actively blame faraday for the mishap, because really, it had been an unfortunate accident all around, but she still had zero appreciation for getting spooked at any point, knife in hand or no. ]
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Suppose I won't, no.
[ He wonders if he'll eventually grow to miss it, though, if only for its absence, if only because he doesn't feel much of anything – neither the heat nor the chill. Even when he picks things up, pushes things around, he doesn't quite feel it. Just knows when something is in his grasp, knows how much pressure to apply or how much to hold back.
He doesn't quite feel. He just... is.
His gaze flits away again, and despite his best efforts, despite how he tries to shove it away, the melancholy sinks in. He feels that, at least, emotions. Sadness, annoyance, anger. Happiness, too, and he thinks on how strange that is, that he should actually find something to be happy about in this state. Something to laugh about or smile at, when what he is should be a constant source of dread or despair, ungodly as he is. Some sort of entity beyond the realm of possibility or understanding.
But he is happy more often than he isn't, odd though that is; he finds things to joke about, things to discuss with Emma, finds joy in the way she smiles and laughs (though he shies away from delving into the whys of that). And for now, that's enough to stave off the worst of his darkened mood.
Faraday trudges over to the hearth, steps silent despite how they drag, and after a bit of concentration, lifts up nearby log and tosses it onto the fire. He grabs hold of the poker next, brow creased with focus, and stokes the flame. ]
Go on, then. Ain't you got your dinner to attend to?
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what a strange life, to be seen by one person alone, while effectively having his existence seem void otherwise.
she's appreciative of the way he sees to the fire, and it makes a quick difference, enough for her to leave her shawl behind to head into the kitchen again. ]
I suppose I ought to, as long as I'm guaranteed to have no further startling experiences while I'm at it.
[ she casts a pointed look towards him, but it's not especially disgruntled - there's almost a teasing edge to it, even. ]
I doubt the doctor would appreciate another visit this evening.
[ and she sure would like to avoid any further stitches in the immediate future. she doesn't actively blame faraday for the mishap, because really, it had been an unfortunate accident all around, but she still had zero appreciation for getting spooked at any point, knife in hand or no. ]