Re: [Closed] So Much to Pay For
Posted: Sat Aug 15, 2020 10:51 am
Nutmeg Hill • Thul Ka
Afternoon on the 37th of Loshis, 2720
S
uffer?”
The word fell out of his open mouth before he could stop it. Cerise stopped so fast he nearly tripped on the slope; he caught himself, and so did Sish, one wing braced out and glinting gold in the sun. He shifted his weight, turned to look at her. The drakelet was nudging her cheek gently with her snout, a funny little noise bubbling up from her golden throat.
He glanced down – once – to where her fists were balled white-knuckled at her sides, but he met her grey eyes then. He didn’t look away as her clipped, sharp voice spilled out between them. At the word passive, he glanced sharply up and down the street, though there was nobody in sight.
“Exactly what – what?” Exactly what they’re capable of? Exactly what they are? His brow furrowed deeper. She’d growled passive, he thought, like it was scrap. Like hell. He stared at her a moment, hard.
So what, is that it after all? You’re offended by her? Offended by what, her audacity to be a tailor? She’d said it wasn’t the woman’s profession; she hadn’t seemed ready to chrove about it then. She hadn’t thrown this kind of godsdamn fit in the shop, either. But what was it? The fact that she came near you, he wanted to ask, boiling hotter, the fact that she served you tea? Shouldn’t you be used to that by now, or do you want them to hide themselves better after –
With upsetting anyone who comes near me, she’d said. Now she was standing with her fingertips pressed to her eyes. Wherever she’d been going with that, she broke off and swerved down a different path.
He ran a hand through his hair and took a deep breath, willing himself not to yank out a fistful of it. His head ached.
“Cerise,” was all he said after a moment of quiet. I don’t know how to do this, he wanted to plead.
He should’ve gone further to keep this from happening. He didn’t know how; Diana had tried to keep her away for a year, and that had only made her angrier. Maybe he could’ve acted more like him, but he didn’t think he could’ve fooled her completely, in the end, and that wouldn’t’ve driven her off any more easily. You don’t care, my erse, he thought.
And the thought of brushing her off over and over made something in his chest ache. He didn’t know how the old incumbent had managed it.
Sish nudged Cerise’s jaw again, and he felt a pang of relief when she reached up to stroke her this time. At least she had the drakelet, he thought. And even then, she couldn’t bear to leash her, to hold on too tight.
“Listen,” he said quietly. He felt the knot sinking lower and lower, tangled up with more and more of him. “I know I’m acting strange enough nowadays. It’s not enough if I tell you I wouldn’t do that, because you don’t know – what the hell I’d do or not do.” It felt strange to speak those words aloud; he swallowed bile. “I know that.”
He studied her; he tried to take the pieces and put them back together. “It’s not that ada’na Ebele is imbala, is it? It’s that I didn’t tell you, and it seemed like I was making a test of it. I understand how it must’ve come off that way, even if I don’t understand – everything.” Or anything else.
He looked up and down the quiet, winding street, and he frowned when he looked back at her.
She had the high ground – just a bit – and so he was lifting his chin even more. “I upset things everywhere I go,” he said, lifting an eyebrow. “If I gave a damn about a little upset, I’d be a hypocrite and an ass. And I’m both of those things, but – it wouldn't be your fault, even if I were - offended.” He frowned deeper, pinched. I said hurt, he wanted to say. Not offended.
uffer?”
The word fell out of his open mouth before he could stop it. Cerise stopped so fast he nearly tripped on the slope; he caught himself, and so did Sish, one wing braced out and glinting gold in the sun. He shifted his weight, turned to look at her. The drakelet was nudging her cheek gently with her snout, a funny little noise bubbling up from her golden throat.
He glanced down – once – to where her fists were balled white-knuckled at her sides, but he met her grey eyes then. He didn’t look away as her clipped, sharp voice spilled out between them. At the word passive, he glanced sharply up and down the street, though there was nobody in sight.
“Exactly what – what?” Exactly what they’re capable of? Exactly what they are? His brow furrowed deeper. She’d growled passive, he thought, like it was scrap. Like hell. He stared at her a moment, hard.
So what, is that it after all? You’re offended by her? Offended by what, her audacity to be a tailor? She’d said it wasn’t the woman’s profession; she hadn’t seemed ready to chrove about it then. She hadn’t thrown this kind of godsdamn fit in the shop, either. But what was it? The fact that she came near you, he wanted to ask, boiling hotter, the fact that she served you tea? Shouldn’t you be used to that by now, or do you want them to hide themselves better after –
With upsetting anyone who comes near me, she’d said. Now she was standing with her fingertips pressed to her eyes. Wherever she’d been going with that, she broke off and swerved down a different path.
He ran a hand through his hair and took a deep breath, willing himself not to yank out a fistful of it. His head ached.
“Cerise,” was all he said after a moment of quiet. I don’t know how to do this, he wanted to plead.
He should’ve gone further to keep this from happening. He didn’t know how; Diana had tried to keep her away for a year, and that had only made her angrier. Maybe he could’ve acted more like him, but he didn’t think he could’ve fooled her completely, in the end, and that wouldn’t’ve driven her off any more easily. You don’t care, my erse, he thought.
And the thought of brushing her off over and over made something in his chest ache. He didn’t know how the old incumbent had managed it.
Sish nudged Cerise’s jaw again, and he felt a pang of relief when she reached up to stroke her this time. At least she had the drakelet, he thought. And even then, she couldn’t bear to leash her, to hold on too tight.
“Listen,” he said quietly. He felt the knot sinking lower and lower, tangled up with more and more of him. “I know I’m acting strange enough nowadays. It’s not enough if I tell you I wouldn’t do that, because you don’t know – what the hell I’d do or not do.” It felt strange to speak those words aloud; he swallowed bile. “I know that.”
He studied her; he tried to take the pieces and put them back together. “It’s not that ada’na Ebele is imbala, is it? It’s that I didn’t tell you, and it seemed like I was making a test of it. I understand how it must’ve come off that way, even if I don’t understand – everything.” Or anything else.
He looked up and down the quiet, winding street, and he frowned when he looked back at her.
She had the high ground – just a bit – and so he was lifting his chin even more. “I upset things everywhere I go,” he said, lifting an eyebrow. “If I gave a damn about a little upset, I’d be a hypocrite and an ass. And I’m both of those things, but – it wouldn't be your fault, even if I were - offended.” He frowned deeper, pinched. I said hurt, he wanted to say. Not offended.