[Open] you've held your head up

[arlathvhen]

WHO: Beleth and YOU
WHAT: A million terrible things have been happening to Beleth in quick succession, and it's finally caught up to her.
WHEN: The last two weeks of Haring, after Sina's funeral
WHERE: The Gallows
NOTES: cw for depression/grieving/vicious dragon attacks

She kept it together, up until the funeral. Kept busy between helping with the plans, and her actual job. She didn't talk much aside from getting everything together, but she had been present. She had always been good at repressing her emotions to do what must be done, and she had put it to use taking as much responsibility as she could from the others that weren't handling it has well.

1.) The days after

But the funeral and wake both pass, and Beleth calls in sick, then turns off her crystal. She's done her duty to her family, and without any other crisis looming, all the stress and grief that's been building up for well over a month comes crashing down. It's not even just Sina, nor is it seeing her brother nearly catatonic, nor the nightmares she was subjected to while fighting the terror demon. It's all of that and more, and Beleth is so, so tired.

She spends most of her time in bed, in a hazy mix of wakefulness and sleep. Sometimes, when she's feeling good enough to get out of bed, but not quite enough to leave the room, she reads in a chair next to an open window. The sunlight helps, as does the sharp, clear winter wind that drifts into the room.

Despite her self-isolation, she'll (somewhat reluctantly) answer the door for visitors--though those she has little care for may find her attempting to move them along with all due speed. Little effort is spent keeping up appearances for these visitors, with no makeup, nor any hair care--leaving her hair in its natural state of a mess of frizzy hair. More telling is the exhausted look on her face, and the way her eyes seem to be focused on something in the distance, even when speaking to someone.

2.) Back in the saddle

However much she wants to spend the next year in bed, life doesn't halt for her misery. Which means that work doesn't stop either, and she knows that there's only so long a division head can slack off. So after a few days of hiding away in her room, Beleth emerges and resumes her responsibilities.

Kind of.

She can be found in her office, usually bent over some paperwork, a glass of wine by her side, in constant flux of fullness as Beleth drinks and refills it. Her productivity is proportional to how full the glass is, and more often than not, she can be found with the pen hovering in the air, her eyes staring off into the distance. Once again, little effort is expended in her appearance, and it's one of the few times she's been in (semi) public without her hair being carefully styled. She doesn't seem to particularly care.

Nor does she seem to worry much about the sudden cold that's gripped Kirkwall. Snow is brushed off of her windowsill, and Kolgrim is kept about her constantly. A fire-breathing mini dragon is a wonderful heater, and other than runs outside for food, she seems content to wait out the cold inside the tower.

There will be no awards won for productivity, but at least she's out here, trying.

2.5) Mistletoe!!

In the breaks between making effort to actually do her job, Beleth stares at the strange creature that's somehow attached itself to her hand. Or is it a plant? It must be camouflage, like a stick insect. But stick insects don't bite your hand and refuse to let go.

She seems, surprisingly, relatively calm about this new predicament. It's so minor compared to everything else, and she hasn't the energy to expend fretting over it. Instead, every once in a while, she examines the mistletoe, and gives it a good shake. When it refuses to budge, she shrugs, and goes back to writing with her other hand.

3.) Winter wonderland

When she does venture out (usually for food), she's prepared. She's lived in the Free Marches her entire life, lived in the middle of the woods during those winters, so she knows how to dress to stay warm. Layered up with a scarf, hat, coat and gloves, the only part of Beleth that's visible is her freckles and purple eyes peeking over her scarf. The upside is that it's harder to see what a disorganized mess she is.

Just in case the layers aren't enough, she's got Kolgrim in her arms--one of the few times she's willing to openly carry the dragon around. Not that she's done very much to hide him, but usually she demurs from having him in public. But this is an exception, and she holds the dragon close as she hustles to and from whatever chore has pulled her from her warm tower room.

She's not eager to talk to people, but she isn't oblivious to others having to deal with the cold, and if anyone seems to be particularly suffering, she'll offer a fire-breathing dragon to their aid--and she'll probably stop him from nipping, even.

3.5) MORE mistletoe!!

This time, the attacking mistletoe has latched onto the only skin showing: Her nose. This is significantly more distressing than the one in her office had been, not least of all because Kolgrim has a serious issue with the strange plant. Either out of instinct or some desire to protect Beleth, he's trying his very best to attack the mistletoe--unfortunately, with it still attached to Beleth.

It's enough that Beleth has to stop her rushing around to try to fend off both the mistletoe and the mini dragon trying to attack it.

"Da'len, stop--I said stop!" She flaps her hand ineffectually at the dragon, who at least hasn't tried resorting to fire yet. "Kolgrim, that is my nose--You are Fen'Harel's own, you know that?"

Comments

2!!

[exequy]

He isn’t without sympathy. Anyone would be forgiven for thinking that he is, but the few days he spends coming and going without seeming to notice anything is wrong—they’re a kindness he’s attempting to extend, pretending to be unaware she isn’t in top form. It is what he would want someone to do for him.

But he has a limit. And it isn’t even a very high one, because secretly compassionate isn’t quite the same thing as secretly tender-hearted, especially for someone with his impatience. She gets a few days of apparent ignorance from him, and then she gets him standing beside her chair and taking up the bottle of wine, first to sniff, then to taste. As he swallows he gestures to her with it, the neck of the bottle substituting for an accusing finger.

“It is not even very good.”

[arlathvhen]

Beleth had appreciated the silence, the feigning of ignorance. She wasn't actually sure if it's born out of kindness, or a simple desire to not get involved in her issues, but the outcome either way was nice enough that Beleth didn't question it.

Then the next thing she knows, he's standing there, stealing her wine, and then making fun of it. Which part of this is the worst? All of it, she decides.

"It's too cold to go out and buy more," She tells him with a defensive frown, crossing her arms. She doesn't say that she's already ran out of the good wine, or that it tastes better once you've drank enough, because these are already obvious things that she shouldn't have to and doesn't want to state.

"If you don't like it, I'll be sure not to give it to you as a Satinalia present in the future. And you can give it back."

[exequy]

If Kostos were slightly more comfortable with petty insubordination—but only exactly as comfortable with drama as he already is, he has the drama for it in him for sure—he would cross to the window and pour out the bottle while making unbroken eye contact.

Instead he only keeps hold of the bottle.

“This is becoming ridiculous, so I am advising you,” he says, in the same quiet and even tone he’d use to deliver a threat he really meant, “to do something with your hair, put on a cloak, and come down to the kitchens with me.”

[arlathvhen]

It's up in the air what level of petty insubordination is pushing the line for Beleth--Kostos doesn't seem to have gotten too close to it yet, as his threat is met with a baleful stare. "I asked you to advise me on matters regarding the scouting division, not my choice of wine. Nor my hair, for that matter."

Despite her words, she lifts a hand to her hair self-consciously. She'd kept it clean, at least. Why did anything else matter? But no, she knows better than that.

Slowly, she rises from her chair, still frowning like this is all a plot against her. But it's easier to do this, somehow. Angrily, grudgingly follow instructions, rather than have to flop about in the quagmire of her own thoughts. And of course, there's always the fear that if she pushes too hard, if she stomps her foot and simply refuses, that she'll be ditched. Even when the person ditching is her advisor, and he'd be quitting, not declaring they weren't friends anymore.

"It'll take a few minutes to deal with my hair." And when she pulls open the door for her bedroom, she leaves it open. There's no clear invitation or denial of entry for Kostos, and it seems like it's up to him if he wants to follow while she roots about in her shelves of various jars for the one that's the hair oil.