faderift | closed; i have a girlfriend now

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closed; i have a girlfriend now

WHO: Sidony and Leander
WHAT: winding around a professional's legs while she's trying to accomplish real things. now with 200% more oversharing!
WHEN: ~~a little before Divine hijinks~~ we are moving this to the TRUTH BOMB event because time is immaterial
WHERE: the Infirmary
NOTES: will add as needed

For deliberate effect, Leander's voice half precedes his bodily appearance around the corner:

"Now, who thought giving knives to a kitten was a good idea?"

Never mind that Sidony may not literally have a sharp in her hand at this precise moment—although if she does, so much the better. Regardless: giving this mage permission to affix her with such a disgusting pet name was probably a mistake, but it's too late for her to change her mind. (It isn't really, but if she thinks it is, he's not about to correct her.)

"Are you nearly finished?" It's not quite that time—Lea has a way of casually learning people's habits, thus blending the line between observant and creepy nearly beyond recognition—but he's done this before, and she'll know by now that he is sometimes content to hang around while she works. Especially if there is, indeed, a sharp in her hand. "If not, I've come to distract you until you relent. I am in desperate need of your attention—in fact, I may die without it."

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"He is devoted to something, yes. I am lucky to have found someone as kind and considerate of me as he is." Byerly is, of course, a unique and wonderful soul - at least in Sidony's opinion. She's quite aware that many members of the Inquisition are less than favourable in their opinion of him.

She hums absently, glancing away.

"Byerly." It slips out without her really wanting it to - because she must tell the truth, as frustrating as that is.

"Byerly." Disbelief, dubiety, delight: all the Ds in equal proportion. Still walking at her side, Leander tilts forward, turns his head to find and draw her attention back his way with a display of broad skepticism, clearly entertained. "Byerly proposed to you. Are you sure?" Obviously she's sure. He settles back into stride. "My word. A protective measure against what, sobriety?"

Her head lifts, ever so slightly, to look up at him. There's an edge of something defensive about her, protective; she is ridiculously fond of Byerly and does not want anything ill to be said of him, but at least Lea does not do anything to put himself on her bad side. "My mother, of course. Should she come here and attempt to drag me home to wed me to some man fit for death then I can claim a husband already."

Sidony's turn of phrase draws an abrupt laugh. A twitter, really, sharp in ascending scale, as uncommon as it is brief. Its smiling evidence lasts for more than a few steps as they drift along with leisurely grace.

"That's a fine plan, but you'd be depriving yourself," with a lean in for whispering, "of free test subjects."

Lea's certain they look lovely together—though she well outclasses him in garb and grooming both—and begins to pay a little more attention to those they pass by, pleased every time he glimpses a face turned in their direction.

"If his fate's sealed, you'd might as well make use of him somehow. What a waste, otherwise."

For all the world, he does seem to be joking.

Edited (mmmno) 2019-06-21 02:22 (UTC)

His laughter makes her tilt her head, looking up at him with a wry, almost unsure smile. Sidony is well aware of the fact that people are not entirely fond of Byerly at times, but the hold he has on her heart is very clear indeed; she is dedicated to him in her own special way and would lay her life down, she thinks, for his. It might not be worth much, but...

Her nose wrinkles at the thought. She does hope that doesn't happen all the same.

"Test subjects?" One eyebrow lifts, face clearing as she leans close, secretive as if they're sharing something that no one else should dare to be privy to. "Who might you suggest I test myself with, dear?"

He cannot mean himself, though, and she sighs softly.

"But, no, no. I will not steal his freedom from him."

Edited 2019-06-22 09:52 (UTC)

What is she—oh. They've gotten tangled. Better to keep the clarification to a minimum, in case it opens too wide; he should keep the whole truth to himself. How many times today has anyone had that same thought, and gone ahead anyway? It hasn't yet occurred to him that anything may be amiss outside his own behaviour. It's not unlike him to be chatty, anyway, only indiscriminate in expression.

"I meant the man fit for death. Your surgery. You know."

Well, there we are. At least he does a good murmur: nice and low, doesn't carry much.

"Anyway, I think I understand... though I can't completely relate. No one's ever tried to marry me, in either sense."

"Ah, I see. Well, that does make sense." She much prefers that to some idea about her trying to take part in some fraternising before marriage; she's not particularly interested in that. What little she has done here - if a single kiss were to count - then she would happily admit that it is far, far more complicated than she is willing to admit to wanting.

Byerly understands more of her than she's comfortable admitting, but she won't say that to Lea. There are some things he doesn't need to know; she's biting her tongue in that regard.

Lifting her head up, she sighs softly.

"It what comes of being a noble, I'm afraid. I hardly recommend it, even if the finances are apparently worth the torment."

"Apparently," Lea repeats, with a cheeky smile. "Are you not comfortable where you are? Would you honestly trade it all away for a little more vocational freedom?"

A marriage of necessity doesn't seem so great a hardship to him, but then, he is—very much the way he is. Confident, always, that he will have what he wants in the end. Willing to bury nearly anyone to preserve his own happiness. (Also: a man.)

Edited 2019-06-23 20:25 (UTC)

"There are many things I would trade for more vocational freedom," Sidony admits, frowning. "I do not relish the idea of marriage, even as I am aware that it is in my future. It is not something I would choose for myself, but... It is my future. I am sure whoever my mother chooses for me will be kind enough."

Kind, but likely old and politically aware, savvy enough to bring the Venaras family some fame but not so that they might appear reaching. Her hand grips Lea's arm just a little tighter, and she sighs.

"But that is truly the future."

"What happens if you tell her no? That you'd rather marry someone else, or no one at all?"

It's genuine curiosity; he'd ask on any other day. It's one thing to act a little refined, to be a tourist in the company of the highborn—to provide, whether as lover or friend, respite from responsibility—and another entirely to grow up entwined with them.

Still without accusation, "Are you not interested in motherhood, either?"

“Then I would be in rather a lot of trouble with both my mother and my father.” Sidony shrugs a shoulder, acting as if none of this bothers her at all. “With Octavian being a member of the Mortalitasi it falls to me to make the political marriage and I’m afraid choice has never been part of the equation.”

It makes her feel a little nauseous - this is not entirely dissimilar to a conversation she’d had with Anders not so long ago. Breathing out, she tries not to wrinkle her nose too horrifically. She does not see herself as a proper wife despite her training.

“I suppose it wouldn’t be horrendous, but I have read about pregnancies. I’d rather not engage for as long as it might be avoided.”

"Fair enough. I've stood witness to a birth, you know—she didn't seem to enjoy it, either."

Yes, very well, miracle of life, blah blah—it's the next part he likes. However she and this Octavian may be related, it isn't the name that interests him, but the title. Even before Ilias, Mortalitasi sounded wonderful to his ears, and the vocation itself, to his heart. Aided by the curse, his enthusiasm overtakes his habit of curation. Flattens it, really.

"But now that I'm reminded, I've been meaning to ask, are you... acquainted with the Speaker? The one who's come to work with us?"

"I find that most women don't seem to enjoy the experience, so I do wonder why they keep putting themselves through it."

Her mother had been given twins, at least, which meant she only had to suffer it the most. One pregnancy was enough; she got a girl and a boy, a mage and a gift to wed away. Let it never be said that her mother was anything less than pragmatic, taking advantage of twins without any pause or hesitation. If only Sidony was so willing to give up her rights and freedoms for such a thing.

"The Speaker?" She tilts her head. "Does this Speaker have a name, dear?"

With a single, harmless pat on her hand, being the politest semblance of a fondly exasperated swat (he's traded more of those with Ilias than either man could accurately recall, and taken the lion's share himself): "Of course he does, you cheeky thing. Don't tell me you don't know it, he's the only one here." If there were more, he would have already done some moth-like fluttering around each of them at least once. "And there's no use in playing coy about the rest, either, I know you're more clever than that. Go on. You're from Nevarra, don't you know every Nevarran?"

(He reckons she probably gets that all the time.)

Sidony's eyes flicker for a moment, but she does smile; she appreciates teasing when it is meant, and she nods her head, once, gentle and sure, before she lifts herself up and looks forward. She's doing her best not to give in to this curse entirely, no matter how poorly she might be faring in the long run. "Is he? I know quite a few people that might be worth the title."

Now she is playing a game of being coy; she knows who he means, but she's being quite deliberate.

"I know far too many people, you must understand."

Ugh, how dare she be so charming in his direction after he explicitly told her not to. But he'll not fold so easily.

"Ah yes, the greatest burden of nobility: having friends. Let's have a list, then. We'll keep walking until his name comes up."

It's not even as though she is trying very hard; being charming and gentle comes naturally to her, through training and preparation from her mother. No, her mother would not have let her even a step out of the house if she hadn't been properly taught.

"So many friends," she says, her voice gentle. "Of course my parents, and my brother, Madame Serenity, the lord and lady that birthed my cousins - and then my cousins through them, including Marisol..." She hums all faux sweetness. "Ilias, who was my tutor, and other members of the Mortalitasi, as little as I saw them..."

"Speaker Fabria was your tutor—are you serious? You're not joking, are you. That's so lovely."

The delight is genuine, so he hardly needs to exaggerate—just enough to play up the sensitivity he's been cultivating. (It helps to soften his manner just that little bit more, he's found, and those who dismiss him for the occasional fancy gesture are only doing themselves a disservice.)

"What were you learning from him? If I might ask."

"Why would I lie about something so silly?"

When he had first arrived Sidony had been so angry and irritated with Ilias that she had been borderline cruel; she had ignored him, been crass, been unkind and almost deadly in her biting words. Now they're a little more understanding with one another - she forgives him, at least as much as she can, and she accepts how difficult his position had been.

She's still sour, but she can't pretend that she's not happy to be around him again.

"Medicine and treatment, of course. Whatever he could teach me."

"Oh, how wonderful. And how wonderful to think we've shared a connection all this time without knowing it—perhaps that's why I was drawn to your company." A little magical thinking to brighten one's day. Lea is brutally practical about some things, but fate is not one of them, especially where Ilias is concerned. They're spiritually entwined; it makes sense he would find Sidony. (And Isaac.) That's just the way of things.

"He's quite good with anatomy, isn't he?"

"You were drawn to me because of an unknown relationship with Ilias?" Her eyebrows raise and it does make her curious - she's not sure if she ought to mention the warning she'd been given, and she bites her tongue, hard, wincing a little before she breathes out a soft noise, something like a huff for a moment.

"He's intelligent enough. Or he was when I began."

It's all right that she questions it; she isn't meant to understand. No one can. So it passes by without an answer, and then it's his turn to raise his eyebrows.

"Was? Do you think that's changed since?"

His eyes hold on her as they walk along, perhaps even through her answer, whatever that may be. Considering.

It's something she ought to press more on, surely, but she doesn't quite have the strength to even consider it. Instead -

"Oh, haven't we all? I think he saw me as more a child than a woman last we met." As if she is so old now at the grand age of twenty-three.

A shoulder shrugs.

"Perhaps his interests have so his mind has not grown. He does still seem to enjoy lecturing me, however."

"Yes," he laughs, "that's his way, the lecturing. He's always very concerned about something—the way he wrinkles his forehead, presses his lips tight, like he's waiting for a chance to disapprove. I find it very charming."

Leander knows very well he shouldn't be talking like this—he'd likely get more than a forehead wrinkle about it—but there's a thrill in being delinquent with his honesty, however unwise it may be. And the compulsion is there, like it hasn't been since he was seventeen and bursting with joyful secrets. (Sidony might even glimpse the echo of that unmistakable glow, should she happen to look his way at the right time.)

"But, not everyone thinks so. You don't—why is that? What's pushed you to question his intelligence, of all things? That's a bit petty, isn't it."

"It's certainly something," Sidony admits, lifting her shoulder. "At least someone finds it charming. I'd rather have liked being told that I was good at something, or that I was at least doing something to impress him. Nothing ever seems to be suitable."

Sidony scoffs, her eyes glancing up to see him, and she stares. There's a certain echo of hesitance in her, her fingers squeezing around his arm gently as she considers. Honesty compels her all the same, however, and she breathes out, pursing her lips and staring forward with an intensity she cannot hide.

"He dismissed me. Clearly, he is not as smart as he imagines himself to be."

Sidony may be steeling herself for some form of wrath—or at least irritation—but what comes is a laugh, a real one, low enough not to carry far, genuine enough to bounce his shoulders. It's an altogether pleasant sound that hasn't seen much use in these last few years.

After a quick recovery, with fond patience, "Or you didn't properly impress yourself upon him. Or, perhaps, it had nothing to do with your worth at all." He suspects. "How long ago was this?"

Edited 2019-07-14 17:52 (UTC)

There’s a moment where she considers that he might be laughing at her and she has a barb ready to say in response, but she soon realises the fond nature of the laughter. She’s careful as she watches him, head tilted and eyes narrowed; she has to force herself into an illusion of calm.

“I can assure you that I did,” Sidony sniffs, just a little. “I was one of, if not the best, students that he ever had. I think I’ve almost forgiven him for the slight but I do still think he’s somewhat of a fool at times.”

"You may continue to think so as long as it suits." The laughter may have merely skirted it, but there's no mistaking this for aught else but condescension wearing an agreeable face.

"I'll ask you again: how long ago?"

"And I shall." There's a touch of something irritated about her now, her eyes glancing up at him with fire rather than kindness, and she very deliberately faces forward, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing her anger, her frustration, the hurt that Ilias had left her with.

"A few years, perhaps. I have had more important things to do than count the time."

"Fair enough," he allows, while suspecting she knows exactly how long, down to the day.

A few years, but how many? Four? Two? The difference there is tremendous, life-changing, the particulars none of her particular business, and she might be inspired to ask why it matters so he mustn't press. It's less important to him that she knows than to know himself—he can ask Ilias himself another time.

(For the anger, the hurt, he would feel nothing at all but curiosity.)

"It's unhealthy to dwell, anyway. We can't let the distress of others move in with us, can we? Otherwise we'd never accomplish anything for ourselves."

It's best not to talk about it, she thinks; she'll just end up even more sour, as if the pinch in her nose wasn't enough to give that away entirely.

At least she is still handsome enough - at least she has her work, and her job, and her friends and allies, all things that her awkward relationship and tutoring with Ilias cannot take from her. She has grown into her own self-worth, no matter what anyone else might say, and she accepts that - because she knows what part she has to play now. She knows who she is and what she wants from her life; no one can change that.

Let Lea think about this in his own time. She's quite finished.

"Of course not," she hums. "It's better not to think about it at all."

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closed; i have a girlfriend now

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