[Ronan was embarrassed when he removed the sleep mask and saw the pages he'd brought with him. Those weren't supposed to leave the dream, and yet just like he'd done countless times before, he brought everything within reach with him. He hoped Kavinsky wouldn't notice the way his face was a little red, or the hard line of his mouth.
If the sheepdog hadn't been sitting on his lap still he would've flung himself to his feet, maybe punched something. Instead, he took a deep breath, looking over at Kavinsky and then the page he was holding. He wasn't going to tell the other boy what tamquam was really part of in this context. Not yet, at least. He frowned at the other pages scattered next to him like they'd personally ruined his life before picking them up one by one, aggressively crumpling them into balls, and throwing them as hard as he could.
Unfortunately, the sheepdog thought he was playing and lifted its head before dashing off after one of the paper balls. When he was sure the animal was actually coming back, Ronan picked up the shears he'd dreamed, turning them over in his hands. They looked alright, and they'd worked in the dream, so. He had confidence in them.
Glancing over at Kavinsky again, he muttered;]
Errare Humanum est.
[To err is human. He knew he'd fucked up a little, but he still had his prize.
The sheepdog came back over, dropping the crumpled paper next to Ronan, looking at him expectantly.]
No, we're not playing. [He told it.] Hold onto it.
[The last part was to Kavinsky, though he didn't actually look at him when he said it.]
no subject
If the sheepdog hadn't been sitting on his lap still he would've flung himself to his feet, maybe punched something. Instead, he took a deep breath, looking over at Kavinsky and then the page he was holding. He wasn't going to tell the other boy what tamquam was really part of in this context. Not yet, at least. He frowned at the other pages scattered next to him like they'd personally ruined his life before picking them up one by one, aggressively crumpling them into balls, and throwing them as hard as he could.
Unfortunately, the sheepdog thought he was playing and lifted its head before dashing off after one of the paper balls. When he was sure the animal was actually coming back, Ronan picked up the shears he'd dreamed, turning them over in his hands. They looked alright, and they'd worked in the dream, so. He had confidence in them.
Glancing over at Kavinsky again, he muttered;]
Errare Humanum est.
[To err is human. He knew he'd fucked up a little, but he still had his prize.
The sheepdog came back over, dropping the crumpled paper next to Ronan, looking at him expectantly.]
No, we're not playing. [He told it.] Hold onto it.
[The last part was to Kavinsky, though he didn't actually look at him when he said it.]