[ his mother would judge him for using her death as a motivation — not because she's dead, but because she disapproves of the wantonness of his behavior. he could use her death to further their agenda, absolutely, but he's bloody fucking tired.]
[ he would not be so quick to refuse the art room, but he is in a state to not be seen by people he knows. he wants to be kept secret, even as an illusion, and theo may not be the best choice for it - but theo has been good to him. he can, as far as aemond has known him, be trusted to keep his confidence. ]
[ it's a very memorable wreath. aemond has a mind to set it on fire. he does wait the amount of time theo requests, but only just, knocking on the garishly decorated door with a sharp rap on the wood. ]
[Theo only just arrived moments earlier - opening the door in and smiling to meet Aemond. He's got a hand towel in his free hand, which he's been using to get colored pastel and chalk off his fingers - there's still quite a bit on the cuffs of his sleeves, which are pushed up to the elbows. Ya boy was doing art, but duty calls!]
Come on in.
[The door to the adjoining bath is nearly shut, the room on the other side his usual haunt - where his personality lives in scattered clothes to contrast this room's tidiness. There's clean linens on the bed (the last ones bled through - long story,) and some of Theo's artwork sitting on the desk in a stack of papers, canvas and coil-spine sketchpads. He didn't dump it all in the main room, in the pursuit of being timely.]
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for you? yes, of course.
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Not my rooms, this time. Where are you?
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I could meet you here or in my room.
[He shares a room with Cellar but they appropriated the adjoining room to be their (fuck a) Guest Bed, and he's happy to make use of it tonight.]
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[ he would not be so quick to refuse the art room, but he is in a state to not be seen by people he knows. he wants to be kept secret, even as an illusion, and theo may not be the best choice for it - but theo has been good to him. he can, as far as aemond has known him, be trusted to keep his confidence. ]
Tell me where, otherwise. I'm already out.
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[A tacky lime green wreath, but still.]
I'll pack up and meet you there in twenty minutes?
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[ it's a very memorable wreath. aemond has a mind to set it on fire. he does wait the amount of time theo requests, but only just, knocking on the garishly decorated door with a sharp rap on the wood. ]
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Come on in.
[The door to the adjoining bath is nearly shut, the room on the other side his usual haunt - where his personality lives in scattered clothes to contrast this room's tidiness. There's clean linens on the bed (the last ones bled through - long story,) and some of Theo's artwork sitting on the desk in a stack of papers, canvas and coil-spine sketchpads. He didn't dump it all in the main room, in the pursuit of being timely.]