The carnal tableau is as uninteresting to Atticus here as it would have been in the physical world, save to inspire the same, dull sort of distaste in him that he has always felt when confronted with any overt display of sexuality. Like blood magic, it is self-indulgent to the point of mindless excess--though, unlike blood magic, it at least provides the ancillary benefit of balancing the humors.
He doesn't interrupt Benedict--not directly. Instead, he crosses the room absently towards one of the shuttered windows and yanks back the curtains. In dreams, the act amplifies the sudden flash of lightning and ensuing clap of thunder that follows; the rain picks up in earnest, lashing itself against the glass with fury enough to leave suspicious, claw-like scratches rather than rivulets of water.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
timeasmymeasure
you're fired
Date: 2019-02-12 08:11 pm (UTC)He doesn't interrupt Benedict--not directly. Instead, he crosses the room absently towards one of the shuttered windows and yanks back the curtains. In dreams, the act amplifies the sudden flash of lightning and ensuing clap of thunder that follows; the rain picks up in earnest, lashing itself against the glass with fury enough to leave suspicious, claw-like scratches rather than rivulets of water.
"You always were a tedious disappointment."