[He starts leading her up the stairs to show her into Alessandro's old room. It's been more than a year since the man had lived there, but it's still his in Jon's mind.]
And what about you? Have you considered any self-portraits?
[The question seems to take her aback, just slightly. She's quiet until after they've reached the top of the stairs before figuring out how she feels about it.]
I hadn't thought of it. I don't particularly like to look at myself.
Agnes, don't take this the wrong way, but you are, objectively, incredibly attractive. What don't you like about the look of yourself? Is it... because you look too young?
It doesn't have anything to do with attractiveness.
[There's no way for her to be unaware of the way she looks in that regard. She's seen the effect she has on men (and women), and over the years had received more than her fair share of unwanted attention. In most cases, fortunately, she could deal with it easily enough.]
My mind wanders. I wonder how much of the way I look is me and how much is The Desolation. I wonder how much I look like my mother, or even my father, whoever he was.
I very much doubt the Desolation has anything to do with how you look apart from the lack of aging. But... did you never see any pictures of your mother from before she, uh... had you? Surely the cult thought she was some sort of hero?
[She can't really recall seeing much of anything that belonged to her mother. Maybe they didn't want her to wonder about her sacrifice, to find a connection with the woman that would make her wish she had still been around. It's hard for her to really understand much of anything about what her cult wanted--aside from the ultimate destruction of the planet.]
[He'll fumble out his phone and step closer to her before holding his arm out awkwardly and trying to capture both of them. His brow is furrowed and his lips are turned down in concentration for the photo.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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[Not all the time, but it's certainly become her most prominent hobby.]
I'll have to bring my camera sometime to show you. I cannot say if they're any good, but I enjoy taking them.
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What are you taking photos of, though?
Please tell me it's not pornography.
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Did I forget to tell you about my growing portfolio of erotic portraits?
[She gives a huff of laughter, shaking her head.]
Just things that catch my eye. Usually people, when they're behaving decently.
ignore me forgetting what format we were doing...
And what about you? Have you considered any self-portraits?
happens to the best of us!
[The question seems to take her aback, just slightly. She's quiet until after they've reached the top of the stairs before figuring out how she feels about it.]
I hadn't thought of it. I don't particularly like to look at myself.
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Agnes, don't take this the wrong way, but you are, objectively, incredibly attractive. What don't you like about the look of yourself? Is it... because you look too young?
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[There's no way for her to be unaware of the way she looks in that regard. She's seen the effect she has on men (and women), and over the years had received more than her fair share of unwanted attention. In most cases, fortunately, she could deal with it easily enough.]
My mind wanders. I wonder how much of the way I look is me and how much is The Desolation. I wonder how much I look like my mother, or even my father, whoever he was.
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[She can't really recall seeing much of anything that belonged to her mother. Maybe they didn't want her to wonder about her sacrifice, to find a connection with the woman that would make her wish she had still been around. It's hard for her to really understand much of anything about what her cult wanted--aside from the ultimate destruction of the planet.]
I just know how dedicated she was.
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[Too dedicated, to let herself be burned in a pyre, knowing she'd never meet her child.]
Would you mind if I too a picture of you? With you. Er... like a selfie?
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I think I could make an exception for that.
[That he even wants such a photo touches her in a way that she can't say she's ever really experienced.]
Thank you, Jon.
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[He'll fumble out his phone and step closer to her before holding his arm out awkwardly and trying to capture both of them. His brow is furrowed and his lips are turned down in concentration for the photo.]