faderift | EVENT: TRUTH BOMB

WHO: Anyone
WHAT: TRUTH BOMB
WHEN: Bloomingtide 15-17
WHERE: The Gallows
NOTES: OOC information. Use appropriate content warnings in your subject lines, please.

It’s an ordinary day—so not a very pleasant one. The weather is dreary and muggy, and the day’s lunch is a soup that’s a little too watery and bland. The griffons are being their usual level of noisy and swoopy. The work is its usual level of urgent and difficult.

But in the storage rooms, something wiggles. Then it hums. Then it pops.

Outside of the storage room, there’s no actual sound, no shift in the wind, and no visible sign of a change. But the pop might be felt—like the moment something finally clicks, or two ideas suddenly fit together, except the opposite. In the heads of everyone in the fortress, something is suddenly not connected quite right.

The first sign of what’s gone wrong is that someone immediately stands up and tells the cook how bad the soup is.

A lot of people’s days are about to get exponentially worse.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Kostos looks up at her—not unhappy to see her, except for the fact that he's in the midst of clearing out his office and his ambitious, competent little cousin is fairly high on the list of people he doesn't want to explain it to. But other than that, she's fine. Which is a compliment, from him. Very few people are better than annoying.

So there's not any irritation, really, when he looks at her, and then there's something close to affection when he looks at Talas, who is watching Sidony with his head crooked from the back of a chair in the corner. Kostos has never actually called Talas a pet before, himself, but it's true enough.

"He was one of the messenger ravens," he says, "but they retired him."

And that's the end of the affection. He looks back down at the stacks of papers on his desk—his former desk, the desk he's now trespassing on with each passing moment—and resumes frowning.

"Did you need something?"

There's no reason for Sidony to comment on the fact that he's clearly cleaning up; it's none of her business. If he wanted to talk about it he would - or, rather, he'd be forced to if she asked, so she's going to bite her tongue. There's going to be time enough later for whatever wallowing Kostos might want to do... Maybe she'll organise some wine, or steal some from Byerly.

Stoking her fingers down her dress, she swans in and makes herself comfortable, settling in a chair with one leg crossed over the other. There's no point wasting time with pretending to be courteous; she's not trying to impress him. She looks at Talas again, wondering if she might dare to pet him eventually before she focuses on Kostos.

"So you adopted him? How sweet of you."

The frown on his face must be repaired, she thinks, and her arms crossed over her chest, almost petulant.

"Can't I come and visit family? You almost sound unhappy to see me."

“I’m not,” Kostos says, honestly—like he has a choice—“but I might be if you call me sweet again.”

Talas was retired for a reason: his delivery path took him through a fight, and now he’s skittish, easily startled, and liable to panic at loud noises or sudden movements. But he’s improving, too, and when Sidony has been still in her chair for few seconds, there’s a flutter of wing, bookended by the scratch of talons on wood, as he moves to perch on a shelf that gives him a better view of her.

While the raven is repositioning, Kostos is lifting his eyes, without lifting his chin, to give Sidony another look. She didn’t answer his question. Maybe because she doesn’t need anything. Maybe because she does and is being evasive. He isn’t very good at giving anyone the benefit of the doubt. But she’s family, so he tries, and doesn’t just repeat himself.

Instead: “How are you?”

"Do you hate the idea so much? One should be kind to family, surely, my dear."

Sidony's eyes flick over to look at the bird, but she says nothing. It's not her place to comment on what company Kostos keeps, not when she has none of her own. Anders, she's sure, would adore it if she were to adopt a kitten, but that's hardly her area of comfort. Perhaps she should invest in a hound, or some other kind of small thing, something to keep her company.

Her legs cross, one over the other, and she leans back, making herself comfortable. At least, unconcerned about being watched, more than used to people observing her and making judgements. She flicks her hair over one shoulder and sighs softly.

"Well enough, I suppose, given the situation." Wryly, she turns to look at her cousin properly. "My work has been as exhausting as ever, but that is the nature of the profession. "Tell me, Kostos. Would you like to get a drink with me one day?"

He does hate the idea so much. He hates it more than he hates the idea of family—mages don’t have families. Arule broken frequently enough in Nevarra but still a rule, one with proponents, of which he was one. Is one. He just isn’t very good at believing it, when his family is right in front of him instead of somewhere unseen and distant, which is why he says, “I suppose.”

Drinking is good. Sidony isn’t bad.

But he’s still looking at her a bit like he expects her to be setting up some sort of trap.

For a long moment, all Sidony can do is look at him. There's a slight ache in her; so far away from home with nothing to cling to, she was desperate to wrap her arms around something familiar, something she understood, and now... Now she feels restless, on edge, unsure, like something is gnawing at her throat. Clearly, Kostos wants nothing to do with her, and there's a bitterness on her tongue that she can't bite back.

"Only if it's not too much of a hassle for you, of course. You must be busy."

An idle glance at what he's doing, brow raised.

"Don't," he says.

Don't what? He isn't sure—don't rub salt into the scrapes on his pride, don't take this personally, don't be hurt, because right behind the realization that she really isn't setting up to ask him for some favor or ensnare him in something beyond a drink comes the separate realization that he's hurt her feelings.

He drops a book onto a stack of other books. The crack of leather on leather makes Talas ruffle up in alarm.

"I am not any good at this."

In case she hadn't noticed. If this curse had loosened his tongue further he might elaborate: he hasn't seen his own parents in over a decade, even now, when he's free to visit whenever he asks for leave; he never knows what to do with his own twin; Marisol only got through to him by refusing to accept any other outcome. How is he supposed to know what to say to a cousin who was only a splotchy, wailing infant the last time he was allowed to think of anyone as family?

"We can get a drink. I'd like to know you better. But if you want me to be charming about it—that isn't going to happen."

Sidony is sour about it and she isn't particularly willing to hide it - let him know that she's been wounded by his attitude. How else is he going to learn how best to please her, how else is he going to be aware of who she is and what she wants? They are family and it has been a very long time since they were in the same room - and then she had been far too young to be at all impressive to him.

Things are different now. She is impressive, and she will prove it to him, time and time again if she must.

"I think you've made that quite obvious." Snidely, arms crossing over her chest as her eyes flick up and down and over him. Perhaps the other cousin is better at this than he is, but perhaps there is a reason why Kostos is like this. She would like to know, even if he seems reluctant to spend any more time with her than strictly necessary.

But, still. She sighs.

"I imagine my side of the family stole all the charm away, then," said with an air of exasperated teasing, glancing at him with something of a smile; at least she is trying to be more gentle about it all. "I'll simply have to manage with you being as dour as you are over wine, then." As forgiving as she is inclined to be, just there.

EVENT: TRUTH BOMB

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