( it is, miraculously, possibly the best carrot he could've dangled in front of her. the first response comes in the shape of a post-it note pressed against his bathroom mirror, as if an immediate reaction was necessary. )
So I could make my life's mission the thorough research of lich and human lovemaking? Hmmm ... ♥
( an avenue of undiscovered experiments, crossing the points of her obsession with death and her possibly worse obsession with emmrich. getting to fuck him and call it science. publishing a book on all her discoveries hovering on top of emmrich, scandalizing all his students with tale of their professor's sexual prowess, bleached bones on tanned skin. the thought makes her toes twist.
later, a more thorough response comes, tucked between the folded shirts in his dresser. with the letter comes a framed picture of the dance of death by michael wolgemut. )
To my one day lich,
I don't think you're mistaken for being frustrated. Truth be told, I have absolutely no loyal ties to the Alexandrian Society, it just happens to be that their enemies try very hard to kill me, which tends to choose your side for you. It's not the pursuit of power that made me drop out of the world creation race, by the way — in that way, I might've agreed with Johanna's actions. It's just the cost, that has to give pause. Most things aren't worth the effort they take. You and me, however, are not one of those cases.
Let's say the idea of fucking you for science has compelled me to agree with you, follow you home, join the Mourn Watch and follow my natural calling towards academic pursuits. Are there any scorned lovers waiting for you at home that I should know about? Or expectant students, hungry for their professors? Or children from previous relationships? What I mean to ask — this life that you're returning to, that you'd bring me into. Are you sure there's a spot for me? Because once it's done, it's done. You'll have to make a Parisa-shaped space in your world, and let me occupy it. I don't need to remind you that I'm not a coat you can hang up at the door to pick up when you like. I'm high-maintenance. Do you like the maintenance? Not just now — forever.
A tentatively interested party in also becoming a lich one day, Parisa
no subject
( an avenue of undiscovered experiments, crossing the points of her obsession with death and her possibly worse obsession with emmrich. getting to fuck him and call it science. publishing a book on all her discoveries hovering on top of emmrich, scandalizing all his students with tale of their professor's sexual prowess, bleached bones on tanned skin. the thought makes her toes twist.
later, a more thorough response comes, tucked between the folded shirts in his dresser. with the letter comes a framed picture of the dance of death by michael wolgemut. )