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contact part deux
if this were modern times byerly would probably make you listen to total eclipse of the heart before you were able to leave a message
"What?"
Of the questions he was expecting, that certainly was not among them. It's rare that his real emotions show in his face - he's quite expressive as long as he's camouflaging all his feelings - but this one does startle him enough to show.
"No. Why would I be angry?"
Of the questions he was expecting, that certainly was not among them. It's rare that his real emotions show in his face - he's quite expressive as long as he's camouflaging all his feelings - but this one does startle him enough to show.
"No. Why would I be angry?"
"Cos when you're angry with me you tend to clam up," she says, hunching her shoulders in something like a shrug but also something of a demonstration of clamming up. "You shut up, shut down, and there's no talking to you about anything until someone — me — starts throwing shit."
She, clearly, is not about to start throwing shit right now.
She, clearly, is not about to start throwing shit right now.
"When I get angry, I get revenge," he mutters, and then amends, "or something like it." Which is not entirely true, he must acknowledge - there are, after all, different types of anger, not all of which are the sorts that lead to vengeance - and maybe in the past, he has been angry with her. Yes. Just -
"What do you think you'd have done to make me angry, precisely?"
"What do you think you'd have done to make me angry, precisely?"
"You're doing it again."
At least his assurances that he's not angry are some small comfort, if not enough to take away the sense that she's done something wrong. But what? It's not like she purposefully gets hurt. It's not like she tries to get hurt. And she survived every scrap she's gotten into so far, so...
(Maybe there is something to her getting hurt being the only excuse she has to see a certain healer, but in this instance it doesn't apply. Colin's the one who healed her shoulder.)
At least his assurances that he's not angry are some small comfort, if not enough to take away the sense that she's done something wrong. But what? It's not like she purposefully gets hurt. It's not like she tries to get hurt. And she survived every scrap she's gotten into so far, so...
(Maybe there is something to her getting hurt being the only excuse she has to see a certain healer, but in this instance it doesn't apply. Colin's the one who healed her shoulder.)
"Plenty," she insists with the insistence of one insisting the opposite. "But none of it anything you'd disapprove of!"
And, needing an example, she points at the bottle of mead. It explains everything to her, and nothing to him, as he doesn't know its provenance.
And, needing an example, she points at the bottle of mead. It explains everything to her, and nothing to him, as he doesn't know its provenance.
Ah. Right. That actually didn't explain anything at all, did it? Like a withering plant her pointing finger curls until her hand is in a loose fist and she taps the heel of it on her knee.
"...Well. I hardly own a distillery, do I? So how else would I make mead if not...ya know. Via a little wrongness?"
"...Well. I hardly own a distillery, do I? So how else would I make mead if not...ya know. Via a little wrongness?"
...no.
[The pause comes from a moment of thought: will he ever stop preening? Not after what he's been through.]
I have to make sure it's still here.
[The pause comes from a moment of thought: will he ever stop preening? Not after what he's been through.]
I have to make sure it's still here.
[Bene thinks on it a moment, then sighs with relief.]
Thank the Maker.
[He runs his hand through his hair again.]
Thank the Maker.
[He runs his hand through his hair again.]
Longer than mine. There's a portrait of him in Mother's study.
[A pause, and his smirk dwindles like a candle snuffed out by a cold wind. He has remembered something.]
[A pause, and his smirk dwindles like a candle snuffed out by a cold wind. He has remembered something.]
Edited (hoox) 2021-02-08 19:23 (UTC)
"No! Augh!"
Athessa lets her head fall against the back of the chair with a soft paff of her curls hitting the upholstery, eyes imploring the ceiling for patience, or a better vocabulary with which she might actually say something that he'll understand.
"The point is," she tells the rafters. She takes a breath, lets it go. And another, before she continues. "That it hurts. To be shut out when I'm already hurt. And I wasn't keeping secrets or not trusting you or whatever you might've thought when I said I didn't want to talk about it."
Athessa lets her head fall against the back of the chair with a soft paff of her curls hitting the upholstery, eyes imploring the ceiling for patience, or a better vocabulary with which she might actually say something that he'll understand.
"The point is," she tells the rafters. She takes a breath, lets it go. And another, before she continues. "That it hurts. To be shut out when I'm already hurt. And I wasn't keeping secrets or not trusting you or whatever you might've thought when I said I didn't want to talk about it."
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