WHO: Étienne, Kostos, and anyone who would like to stop and/or watch some unnecessary violence WHAT: Interpersonal conflict resolution WHEN: Nowish WHERE: The Templar dining hall in the Gallows NOTES: cw: punching; context
Kostos half turns his head at the boos, an ear toward the source, which puts Evrion back into his field of vision. For a moment he feels—something. A hunger pang in the empty space where shame should be, to have let his control slip that far in front of an apprentice.
But then Étienne talks again. A smooth shirt and a smile. Easy as that. Maybe it could be that easy for Kostos, too, if he put in any practice, but he hasn’t ever, and he won’t now.
To wit: “You can go fuck yourself,” he says, dark and quiet, while he climbs back up onto his feet unassisted, “as peacefully as you want.”
The desired effect might be mitigated somewhat by the fact that his bloody nose leaves him sounding congested and, upon reaching a standing position, he briefly lists to one side before managing to manually rediscover his balance.
When Kostos meets his eyes, Evrion hops to his feet and comes over to duck under his former tutor's arm, helping him catch his balance after it falters.
"D'you want some elfroot tea, Enchanter?" he asks quietly, with a crooked grin, "you'll be feeling that chair tomorrow."
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But then Étienne talks again. A smooth shirt and a smile. Easy as that. Maybe it could be that easy for Kostos, too, if he put in any practice, but he hasn’t ever, and he won’t now.
To wit: “You can go fuck yourself,” he says, dark and quiet, while he climbs back up onto his feet unassisted, “as peacefully as you want.”
The desired effect might be mitigated somewhat by the fact that his bloody nose leaves him sounding congested and, upon reaching a standing position, he briefly lists to one side before managing to manually rediscover his balance.
He does not shake Étienne's fucking hand.
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"D'you want some elfroot tea, Enchanter?" he asks quietly, with a crooked grin, "you'll be feeling that chair tomorrow."