"That it is," Ganymede chuckles, amused at the smug expression his friend wears. He loves seeing any joy on Armand's face, whatever form it takes, rare as it is. And the catlike grin suits Armand's face as much as the matchingly rare expressions of cold brutality suit Ganymede. And they're equally difficult to spot on them both.
"Sometimes, I do," he answers to the question of whether he misses things: his cheery smile falls a little, gentling as he remembers the things he's gained and lost over the years. "I miss my friends, my lovers. My children. I miss the cities I used to live in--I certainly miss my home. And the music sometimes--it's so loud nowadays, but it's all just noise, not music. I remember when you could hear songs all through towns from people singing as they worked." He loved hearing the busy-ness of people around him, knowing their lives were bright and joyful as his, for however long they both lasted. "I miss the food sometimes--tastes have changed, though I can still get some things the way they used to be made, deep in the middles of the old neighborhoods. But I've gotten to see so many things change--cities grow and merge, and rivers change course, and such industries! I can buy new clothes, from the skin out, and it costs me a fraction of what it used to. Even the expensive ones."
He chuckles and plucks at the button placket of his shirt. "Sometimes...I think I miss the old days, and the pace of the world before clocks were popular and people didn't divide up days and weeks into hours, minutes, seconds. It seems to be so rushed now, but there are trades. Electric lights--I can make my house as bright as noon at midnight, with only the flip of a switch? That's a hell of an exchange."
They make their way towards where the Ancient World exhibits are, and Ganymede seems to straighten his posture, to walk differently when they surround themselves with the gold and rubies and crystals and pearls of the jewelry, the marble statues and reliefs oh-so-carefully preserved or recreated. "I have some of the tiles from the courtyard of the palace where I grew up in a shadowbox. Little glass tiles, they used to make up a sun mosaic around a little fountain."
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"Sometimes, I do," he answers to the question of whether he misses things: his cheery smile falls a little, gentling as he remembers the things he's gained and lost over the years. "I miss my friends, my lovers. My children. I miss the cities I used to live in--I certainly miss my home. And the music sometimes--it's so loud nowadays, but it's all just noise, not music. I remember when you could hear songs all through towns from people singing as they worked." He loved hearing the busy-ness of people around him, knowing their lives were bright and joyful as his, for however long they both lasted. "I miss the food sometimes--tastes have changed, though I can still get some things the way they used to be made, deep in the middles of the old neighborhoods. But I've gotten to see so many things change--cities grow and merge, and rivers change course, and such industries! I can buy new clothes, from the skin out, and it costs me a fraction of what it used to. Even the expensive ones."
He chuckles and plucks at the button placket of his shirt. "Sometimes...I think I miss the old days, and the pace of the world before clocks were popular and people didn't divide up days and weeks into hours, minutes, seconds. It seems to be so rushed now, but there are trades. Electric lights--I can make my house as bright as noon at midnight, with only the flip of a switch? That's a hell of an exchange."
They make their way towards where the Ancient World exhibits are, and Ganymede seems to straighten his posture, to walk differently when they surround themselves with the gold and rubies and crystals and pearls of the jewelry, the marble statues and reliefs oh-so-carefully preserved or recreated. "I have some of the tiles from the courtyard of the palace where I grew up in a shadowbox. Little glass tiles, they used to make up a sun mosaic around a little fountain."