[Closed] Fade Out (Again)

[Lars]

LABORATORY BETA
HAMIS 11, 2719 ❁ EVENING

Today had been like any other day, spent -

No, it hadn't, had it? Today had been tumultuous and immensely difficult to get through, and -

That wasn't right either. He'd spent it in the kitchens, working dough and baking rolls, and.... no. That wasn't it. He'd been sent to clean a handful of particularly messy student dorms, yes, and he'd run into a rude little girl and....

He couldn't remember. None of it felt right, and he couldn't tell what he'd done yesterday or today, or what he'd done even a week before - did it matter? He had to believe that if he couldn't remember it, if it hadn't been eventful enough to make some impression in his mind, then it didn't matter. He hoped it didn't, because all of it had escaped him entirely.

Lars was walking, but gods if only he could remember where to. It felt as if he'd only woken up a moment ago, and had found himself lost in the halls of Brunnhold, directionless and confused. He came to a stop to collect himself, lifting his eyes from the floor below and to the stairway that descended into darkness before him.

Ah, right... he'd been walking to Laboratory Beta. Things started coming back to him now; he'd just cleaned up in the baths after a day of work outdoors. It wasn't often that the blonde was called to such manual work, and he could admit that tidying and maintaining the grounds of the university weren't his favorite tasks, especially in such heat. He'd retreated to the baths as soon as he'd finished his work, and he could feel it now, the cool air pressing against drying blonde waves as he walked down the stairs in silence.

He hadn't wanted to go back to the dorms yet, not when there were still a few hours until he had to sleep, and so he'd opted to visit the laboratory. At one point, the Hessean might've visited the kitchens in his rare moments of downtime, but as of late he'd taken to avoiding such places when he could. He did a lot of that, now - avoiding. It felt, sometimes, that all he ever did was avoid; avoid people, avoid places, avoid thoughts and opinions and feelings and everything else he could possibly avoid. It used to be easier. It used to be easy to blend into the background, and to go about his life like normal, like nothing ever mattered and nothing ever would, but it simply wasn't true anymore.

Everything mattered, and everything hurt.

He wasn't a Savatier. He wasn't; he was one of many of his kind, without magic and family alike, and whatever name or future he'd had in the past was meaningless now. They had no parents but their fellow passives, but now - now he really had none. Now he had nothing. Past, present, future - nothing. Nothing. Nothing, and no one.

Not Jamie, or Donatien, or Morgan, or Professor Moore, or Professor Devlin, or Miss Madden, or Fionn - he had himself, but he wasn't enough. He wasn't enough for himself, how could he have possibly expected to ever be enough for anybody else?

The passive moved through darkness, carrying a heavy weight in his chest and an unshakable chill in his bones. He wasn't even sure of what he meant to do, when he got to the laboratory, or what he meant to say to whomever he found - was he expecting to see the Professors? Miss Madden? He wasn't certain he even had the words to accompany his thoughts, or if he had anything to say at all. Nothing came to mind, but then nothing ever did - he wondered if that was yet another flaw in the makings of his mind, like the inability to use magic, or to express himself, or to act like one was meant to. He wondered what parts of him weren't flaws, and found a much shorter list.

Lars felt himself stumble, his shoe catching on something unseen, and the servant was on the cold ground before he registered what was happening. He didn't fall too hard, he'd simply not been expecting to trip and fall; he pushed himself up into a sitting position, but didn't move any farther just yet.

What would happen if he didn't move, and remained there in the darkness? Would he sink into the floor and never be seen again? Would he fade into the shadows of passing professors and servants on their way into the lab? Would he watch the world around him continue on, as if he'd never been there at all, as if nothing he'd ever said or done had affected anyone else's life in the slightest?

He supposed he didn't need to sink into a floor for it to be true.

Lars forced himself upward to stand, dusting himself off before continuing on, as if he'd never fallen. He resigned himself to neutrality, his face relatively blank and unchanging save for a twitch now and then beneath his eye, and his hands went to straighten the tuck of his shirt and the line of his trousers before he reached out to open the door to Laboratory Beta.

He heard noises immediately - like the sound of someone banging things around, or throwing things, or something equally as aggressive. He hesitated for a moment, listening to the clatter and reconsidering if it was a good idea to go inside. After a few moments, the blonde decided not to stray from the plan, and opened the door fully to step inside the lab. A blue gaze swept over the room, only stopping when it found the source of the noise - Miss Niamh Madden.

"Oh - I didn't mean to disturb you, I'm sorry," Lars offered, his hands drawing together in front of him and fingers intertwining, "should I come back another time, Miss Madden?"

[Niamh Madden]

Hamis 11, 2719 | Evening
Laboratory Beta, Brunnhold

.

She was mercifully alone in the lab. It had been hours since she’d seen Fionn — who seemed clever enough to give the wide berth this evening — and yet her temper was still running high, field red-shift and pulsing, weighted with emotion.

She had no idea how she had gone to classes after the confrontation with her brother, both of them exchanging words that had struck sorely home with the other. She wasn’t simply angry though but hurting as well because some of what he’d said had been unfortunately true, things she hadn’t wanted to admit to herself and it wasn’t fair that he’d made her face them but that had been the point of many of his arguments — things weren’t fair. The mindset he’d put her in hadn’t been conducive to learning and while she knew that she had notes that she’d managed to take, she only had flashes of recollections about the classes themselves. She feared that she’d surprised more than one person by being uncharacteristically sharp with them but the encounters themselves had been largely unimportant and unmemorable. The only one that she did remember with any real clarity was one at dinner when her stupid bloody fiancé had decided that he might have another go at wearing her down. Even if she had aimed some very sharp barbs in Caleb Darcy’s direction, having to deal with the spoiled young man had done nothing to improve her already ill humour.

Perhaps the final blow that had felled the kenser was walking into Laboratory Beta to discover the state that an absentminded Harper had left it in. Her mood was such that she would have torn strips off the professor if he’d been there, scolding him quite vehemently rather than simply cleaning his mess as she so often did. He probably would have been shocked by it honestly, especially over such trivialities as forgotten tea cups, and scattered, crumpled papers. It wasn’t trivial to her though, not now, not even in the midst of all the other things that she had to think about because damn him, she had to pick them up! She also had to try to decipher notes that had run and been smeared after someone’s forgotten teacup spilled its dregs, the student having to make the effort in case they proved to be important and needed to be salvaged. Carefully peeling tea-dampened papers apart was not Niamh’s idea of a good time.

Why did she have to look after others so much of the time? Healing people who injured themselves getting up to mischief or doing one activity or another. One of her roommates had come home over the weekend having overindulged in the Stacks and Niamh had stayed with her being soothing and kind while she sobbed and threw up. She’d had to handle her mother weeping after arguments with her father on the occasions — the occasions growing rarer and rarer — that her parents interacted with each other outside of social gatherings. She didn’t always get along poorly with Oísin but her baby brother was more likely to come to her and be civil when he needed some sort of aid from her. Her other brother was frequently a disaster who needed comfort from her and Harper was-

She was too nice that was her problem. Too nice and too empathetic. She felt too much and it was going to do her head in. There was only so much sympathy you could have for other people, especially when they were inclined to suck you dry. Not that Harper was doing anything on purpose but would it kill him to pay attention every once in awhile? The sorceress was sore about doing so much and getting very little thanks for it. It was why she was taking it out on the things around the lab, relocating and rearranging things with more aggression than was strictly necessary but inanimate objects were easy targets and hurting them didn’t hurt anybody else; the student wasn’t fully aware that she was doing it though.

Niamh had no notion that she was making enough noise to carry but it was enough — along with the dark muttering to herself — to prevent her from hearing the door open. She was having a bit of a quarrel with the teapot at the time, irritated by its unwillingness to just fit in its clocking place in the damn cupboard so she succeeded in catching a whiff of a familiar nexus before Lars spoke. The redhead was too slow on the uptake to have worked out why it was familiar but she was quick enough to realise that it didn’t hold the essence of her brother.

While her attention was diverted, the teapot took the opportunity to make a break for it with gravity as its accomplice.

“Oh clocking, bloody thing!” she wailed, giving the cupboard a kick in her frustration. It wasn’t a particularly hard kick but it was enough to send heat and pain exploding in her toes. She bit her lip, sucking air through her teeth as she bounced on one foot while cradling the teapot, almost in tears. No doubt, she appeared utterly ludicrous. She put the pot down — not in the cupboard but on a tabletop — and turned her attention to Lars, sheepishness, irritation and pain warring on her features and causing an accompanying disorder to reign in her field.

“Lars! Hello! No, no, you’re all right. I’m not all right but that has nothing to do with- Come in. Would you um… would you like a cup of tea?” she questioned, sighing softly as she regarded the offending brewing receptacle. Maybe there was a reason it hadn’t wanted to go into the cupboard. Perhaps she ought to have a cup of tea herself and sit down in an attempt to relax. Seeing herself through the Hessean’s eyes — how ridiculous and wild she must seem! — made her realise that she should really try to calm down.

“I was just- It’s been a trying day, I’m sorry,” the student explained softly, agitation still evident in the tremble of her limbs and the pulsing chaos of her field but she was really trying to soothe and tame the latter. She picked up the teapot and went to put water on to boil, spooning an appropriate about of leaves — dependent on the man’s response — into the pot before leaning against a table with an exhalation of breath.

“I’m sorry, you don’t want me- I’m sure that this has been a far more trying week for you and you don’t need me being… being silly! And please… Niamh is fine,” she explained with self-conscious but kind smile.

She knew that the servant was a Savatier, even if that name had technically been stripped from him, and she knew that his family had been wiped in Dorhaven when the Resistance’s bomb went off. Well, all but wiped out; Lars and another boy attending Brunnhold had survived. It had been talked about, the galdori name traded from mouth to mouth with dolorous pronouncements about how awful it was, how shameful. His brother had no doubt received condolences but Lars… it was doubtful that he’d received any. While she’d seen him since it had occurred, the Living Conversationalist hadn’t offered her sympathies; she’d been distracted and she hadn’t had the nerve.

Now didn’t seem like a good time to bring it up either but at the same time… she probably ought to do so. It was a case of now or never. However, as the water began to bubble softly over the heat, her lips remained sealed on the subject.

[Lars]

LABORATORY BETA
HAMIS 11, 2719 ❁ EVENING

Lars watched through a concerned blue gaze as the Madden girl fumbled with the teapot, no doubt surprised by his sudden words, and he almost felt bad, observing her in such a state. She was clearly agitated, and he had to wonder what had upset her so - but it was none of his business, and he wasn't about to encroach on a galdor's privacy, especially not when it was a nice galdor.

The blonde shook his head in response, offering a quiet, "no, I'm alright. Thank you."

He could feel the edges of her field against his skin, prickling and crawling like unwelcome little insects, but he made no effort to retreat. He had spent many years around galdori and their fields, red-shifted or otherwise, and he wasn't about to excuse himself because of someone's frustration - he'd come here for a reason, even if he couldn't quite remember it.

His eyes followed her form as she went to make herself some tea, the trembling of her limbs, and considered for a moment to approach and try to comfort her - but he wasn't the best with those things, he knew, and she likely didn't want a passive bothering her at the moment, despite her words. Lars walked further into the laboratory, glancing about the disheveled room almost curiously, if one could pick that out on his face.

"It's quite alright, Miss... Niamh," Lars assured softly, eyes flicking back to the young woman's face, tracing her smile before offering a small one of his own in return, "there's no need to apologize to me. I'm the one that barged in on you."

It wasn't as if the servant was an unlikely visitor in Laboratory Beta - he did come there often, when he could, but as of late he supposed he'd been avoiding it more so. As he had been avoiding everything and everywhere else - there were things that he simply didn't want to run into, and didn't want to know.

But Niamh wasn't one of those things; she had always been kind to him, despite her brother's contrary disposition, and he was grateful for the young woman's presence today, even if it was a chaotic and agitated one.

"Is there anything that I can do to help, Niamh? Even if you just - need someone to listen; I'm not exactly the best company but I'm willing. Or - if you'd like some help cleaning up, I can do that, as well."

It was clear that the passive wanted some excuse to stay in the lab, and stay with someone that wasn't either of his roommates, or anyone else that he felt resentment from, but it would be a lie if the blonde said that he didn't actually care as well. Caring wasn't common for Lars, but Niamh had managed to worm her way into his concern nonetheless. Perhaps it was because she had been so kind toward him when he had been so inconsiderate during their first meeting - because she had shown him true compassion, and comfort, and because he wanted to believe that someone could still care about him at all.

[Niamh Madden]

Hamis 11, 2719 | Evening
Laboratory Beta, Brunnhold

.

Miss Niamh.

It had been accidental, the force of habit to be polite shunted out of the way too late as he remembered to use her first name instead so those words hadn’t come together intentionally but-

It was still too fresh because it had only been the previous day—it felt like so many days had occurred since she’d pulled Aurelie from the kitchens—and it made everything start whizzing around in her head again. The meeting with Aurelie yesterday, the argument with Fionn today, being left in tears in the mud unsure if she was angry or upset.

Even now, she wasn’t sure exactly what she felt but the student knew that she was angry with her brother for what he’d said, how he’d treated her, what he’d made her face about herself. Anger was easier than bursting into tears or it had been the easier option all day because her indignation drove her to rage. So recently and hastily buried, the fire was ready to burst out and consume everything in its path once more. The tremor was there, her monic aura vibrating with it but she was trying to remain calm.

Deep breath in.

Slowly breathe out.

Niamh just needed to focus on making tea, that ever calming ritual—that she’d carried out yesterday for Aurelie—and then she’d be right as rain and the galdor wouldn’t feel like screaming. Except that the water was being uncooperative and taking forever to boil! It meant that she couldn’t distract herself properly.

“You could uh… I don’t want to ask you to do anything. You don’t have to do anything while you’re in here, Lars,” she explained, rubbing a hand across her face, a pinched look to her features. “And listen to what? My problems? As if I have the clocking right to complain when-”

The redhead broke off, frowning deeply. Her lips pressed together so hard that they went white. She considered him closely, trying to decide if she could ask him to not just listen but to offer an opinion on something—it wasn’t as if knew her well.

“Just sit down, Lars. If you still want to do some work once I’ve finished my tea then you can help me tidy up,” she offered, having the awful feeling that she was dangling the possibility of work in front of him almost like a treat. It wasn’t that she wanted to clean the room—far from it—but it didn’t suit her to have him wandering around doing it while she was having tea. It was the look of the thing rather than real guilt, a fear of how it would make her appear — as if she wasn’t as good as she claimed.

Spoiled, that’s what her brother had called her but she wasn’t like the other galdori, she really wasn’t! But if she had to reaffirm that all the time then did she really believe that?

Sit nice and quiet like a good boy until it suits me to put you to work—you really are a hypocrite! she thought, feeling the sickly horror of it crawling up her throat. The student was going to have to second guess everything that she did from now on, to consider her own motives because maybe unconsciously-

Now wasn’t the time to drive herself mad with this, especially as the water was boiled.

“Are you sure you don’t want tea?” she asked, cocking an eyebrow before she went to pour the water. “You still have time to change your miiind!” the Madden daughter told him in singsong, wincing as she realised that yes, that was a tone of voice that she’d use when speaking to a child. Her cheeks flushed, guilt and awkwardness reigning supreme now as she wet the tea leaves, giving the desiccated leaves themselves a poke with a spoon before she let the lid drop shut.

“Lars… you don’t know me very well so you probably can’t answer but… am I a hypocrite? Do I treat you—passives—as if we’re not equal? Do I- Can I be patronising? Treat you like a child or speak to you that way? I’ve been told that I can be, Fionn says-”

She broke off, nostrils flaring at the mention of her brother, the indignation rising bitterly again. She didn’t want to talk about him right now and she wasn’t sure that- It didn’t seem fair to have to explain all this to Lars, namely the why of it.

“He’s just biased, isn’t he? I’m not really like that, he’s wrong, right?”

She didn’t hear it herself, the coaxing way she phrased things, the intense way that she spoke as she prompted him with the words she wanted to hear. Everything about the young woman as she stood there—hands gripping the cupboard so tightly it was as if she was frightened that she’d launch herself at him—seemed to beg him to say it.

Tell her what she wanted to hear. That her brother was wrong and she was right. That she could only ever be right.

[Lars]

LABORATORY BETA
HAMIS 11, 2719 ❁ EVENING

The passive wasn't entirely sure of what to make of Niamh's shifting moods and quick words, and he watched her from near the door, remaining quiet through most of it. Lars didn't visibly react to the girl's sing-song suggestion that he still had the time to decide he wanted tea - she had seemed to embarrass herself enough on her own, and he didn't wish to make that any worse - but moved to step further into the laboratory.

Niamh might've said that he was fine to be in here, but clearly the student was more upset than she was wanting to show. She looked as if she was doubting herself after every word, as if she was nervous about something, as if she was... concerned with his opinion of what she was doing, almost. He had to wonder why a galdor would ever care about such things, but she spoke up on the matter soon enough, and Lars took a quiet breath to consider her question.

She was obviously in distress, but at the moment she looked almost feral. Lars brought one hand to hold his opposite elbow, light eyes raising from the girl's hands back to her face.

"If... you're asking me to speak honestly, Niamh..." he began, moving to sit against the arm of the couch, "I think that you're worrying too much about it."

His head tilted just a little as he stared across at her, his expression remaining neutral as he spoke - calm.

"I've never met a galdor that treats us truly equal, Niamh, but you and the professors at least try. I... don't think that it's about being perfect, and getting it right all the time. I think that you're one of the kindest people that I've met, Niamh."

Lars was uncomfortable, in all honesty, to be speaking so plainly. Would his words offend her, when he wished only to help soothe? He wondered what had prompted Fionn to say such things to a sister that he thought had meant much to him.

"Of course your brother is biased - he's been treated terribly by almost everyone he's met, but that doesn't mean he's always right to treat them badly in return. No, Niamh, I don't think that you're a hypocrite. I think you're trying your best, and that's a lot more than most of your peers do."

[Niamh Madden]

Hamis 11, 2719 | Evening
Laboratory Beta, Brunnhold

.

Speak honestly… yes, that was what she wanted from him, but the way he said it, it was as if he was preparing to lay unpleasant news at her feet. She felt her heart sink, expecting the worst as he sat against the couch rather than properly in the seat — she resisted the urge to tell him to just sit down — and yet he didn’t say what she’d expected.

Worrying too much? Shouldn’t she be worried about that sort of thing? Shouldn’t she be concerned about passives and how she treated them? Surely there couldn’t be such a thing as too much concern in this area — too little, she could understand. But he was so calm about it, regarding her as if this matter wasn’t a particular important one. How could he be so impassive about something that concerned him? Didn’t he want to be treated like galdori were? Didn’t he want to be treated like a person rather than a child or some sort of clever animal that someone had taught tricks to? Or was the fact that she actually thought about it the problem?

Perhaps if it came more naturally, if she didn’t have to think about it-

But he pressed on, cutting off her anxious thread of thought and she was left staring at him, lips tremulous as her eyes stung. She wasn’t perfect — no one could be that so she certainly couldn’t expect to be so — but she tried, it was true. But the kindest person that he’d met? The student couldn’t deny that she was touched, she couldn’t deny that his words made something flutter inside her. She wanted to mention Harper, wanted to ask if he wasn’t kinder than she but… no, Lars must mean what he said; this was his opinion. Whether she was truly kinder than her employer or not wasn’t up for debate here and it would be rude of her to argue as if his opinion might be wrong.

However, as he pressed on about her brother, the soppy happiness inside her shrivelled a bit. Her brother had been treated unkindly and he tended to return cruelty with cruelty but… he hadn’t pushed her today for no reason, had he? It hadn’t been unprovoked, it hadn’t been him acting out because of some other hurt that he’d received. Fionn had shoved Niamh, not just because of what she’d said but due to the fact she’d tried to use magic against him as well. Maybe if she hadn’t known that such a use was wrong — the overall intent and use of the mona, not who it was being used against — then she probably would have succeeded against her own brother.

Surely it wasn’t kind to deal abuse to someone who had often been abused. And where her passive brother was concerned, she didn’t even know how much he’d been abused — she could only guess.

“I know that he’s… had a rough time. I don’t know how rough because there are things that he doesn’t- He just closes me out and I don’t know if it’s because he doesn’t want to talk about with anyone or he’s trying to protect me but… Could he be right? If he’s seen so much bad then shouldn’t he be good at seeing it when it’s there?” she asked anxiously, her thumbnail finding its way into her mouth. She picked at the nail with her teeth, remaining conscious enough of what she was doing so that she didn’t actually bite it.

“He did treat me badly today and he said things but… he had reason,” Niamh admitted quietly, her head dropping. She tried to make herself smaller, shrinking in on herself as her face grew red. She licked her lips, hesitating. In one sense, the young woman wanted to admit to what she’d done but at the same time, she didn’t want to diminish herself in the passive’s eyes.

Lars thought that she was kind so how could she shatter that view? The redhead wanted him to continue to see her as the kindest person he’d ever met, one who wasn’t capable of cruelty or pettiness. But she was. Circle have mercy, she was. She took the time to pour her tea, using it to build up her nerve. Wisely, she didn’t attempt to pick up the cup after she had it prepared.

“I said some nasty things to him th-th-that probably weren’t justified and I-I-I tried to push him. With magic. I-I-Into the mud,” she confessed in a small, pained voice. Her eyes closed then squeezed tightly, crinkling her face, mouth a miserable pucker.

“I w-w-wasn’t treating him as an equal. I knew he couldn’t- It failed but if it hadn’t-” she broke off with a shake of her head. “I was being petty. And a bully. Th-th-that wasn’t kind, n-n-not when he wasn’t wrong. I was just… I w-w-was unfair and-”

She broke off, eyes opening anew as she raised her head at last, fixing the blond with a teary green-tinged hazel gaze. Her lip wobbled, she opened her mouth to try to say more and then snapped it shut, glancing away so she could pick up her teacup. It rattled on its saucer as she carried it to her chair, managing to arrive at her destination without inadvertently hurling it on the floor. She set it on the side table before seating herself and curling up.

“Am I still k-k-kind, Lars? Is that r-really my best? I know it’s Fionn and he’s-”

She dredged up a wobbly smile, some watered down humour present even as a tear spilled over and rolled down her cheek.

“You know wh-wh-what he’s like,” the galdor pointed out, a tremor of fondness in her voice as she rolled her eyes a little. She fixed her passive companion with a knowing look; her brother was something they had in common. “He’s not easy t-to deal with so… is it that or am I just- Do I have something bad in me? D-d-do all of us?”

Was she edging towards discussing philosophy with a passive? Why yes, she was! And why not?