A few months after the business with the chalice, Annie (with a gold engagement stud in one earlobe, now receiving mail at Aldaras's apartment, and thoroughly comfortable with Being Necklaced, to the point where she's helping mold the thing towards more exacting standards for real-world-practical as well as theoretical compatibility) is in bed with some unidentified sort of head cold or flu. Aldaras doesn't have it so far, so she is snuggled under the covers while he makes her spicy soup to help clear her sinuses and because she's having a little trouble with non-liquids. He's worried, she's mostly just groggy. Zzzz.
Or possibly done worse, but that's neither here, nor there.
"Fair, but what I mean to say is - I'm not wandering into this blind, proclaiming with arrogance, 'Yes, I will definitely be fine.' I genuinely understand the sorts of things I can listen to, and you're not in the right genre to make me balk. If you would prefer not to tell me, that's fine, but please don't think I don't know what I'm getting into and cannot take the truth."
"Ever since I touched the necklace I've been swinging between despair and terror and lust. None of them are how I'd choose to spend all my time but the third is the most pleasant. So while it technically makes some things worse when you - hug me or anything - it is overall better."
He says this all quite casually, and hasn't pulled away from the embrace at all.
"Any minute now one of my alts is going to come find me and say have you considered that we could try killing you."
Okay, that gets a reaction out of him. The reaction is snuggling her closer.
"I think that falls under causing you distress," he says almost lightly, but there's an edge to his voice.
"They would. But - please don't do it for my sake. If you are sick of being in love with me and switching between despair and terror and lust and would like any way out, then I won't stop you. But if you're - worried that you'll say or do something to instantly drive me away, or that I'll condemn you from on high for not wanting certain things to happen in an attempt to influence your mind again, in another way - don't. I've already quite decided not to abandon you. If you haven't noticed I'm something of a stubborn bastard."
Prime is perfectly all right with being cried on for an extended period of time. He pets her hair, soothingly.
And with that she breaks off into further crying.
"Shh, no," he murmurs, "no, Aya, please, don't - convince yourself to die for me. I - please, it would - it would be extremely distressing. Don't. Not - not for me." His voice cracks a bit, and he takes a breath and forces evenness into it. "You've also missed something. I wouldn't have even offered to 'help with lust' after a great deal of forethought if I did not want you in some capacity. If you were a friend of mine, and I weren't willing for it to become anything else, ever, I would not let it even seem like an option." Pause. "... It is. If you're curious."
She shivers. It's hard to tell with exactly what emotion when she's clinging to him and still has her face buried in his shirt.
He isn't going to ask. He'll just keep being cried on - that's fine. Hair pet, hair pet.
"My Isabella is still working on getting useful answers from the alethiometer about the necklace, but it occurred to her -"
"If," he says in a soft, quiet voice, "the idea is to kill and resurrect Spring, the answer is no."
"It'd take two minutes, Revelation can do it so it doesn't hurt, she might wind up a daeva, it might work - why not?" says Path, hopping a step backwards.
"It might work, indeed. But think about it this way. You can be resurrected, without the uncertainty of daeva and summoning. If you were brought back, you would be exactly as you were. Do you want to die? Because that's what you're asking her to do."
"We did it with Cypress," says Path darkly. "Because he didn't like the way he came back the first time he died."
"Yes. And, still sorry for that, but. He volunteered, correct?"
"No one is planning to murder Spring. I'm mentioning that it's an option."
But, his eyes say, the answer is still no.
"Is it that you don't want me to do it for you," she murmurs, "or that you don't want me to do it at all?"
"... First. But you doing it at all is also distressing, just - not enough for me to stop you," he says in a lowered tone.