WHO: Athessa, Madi, Lucien, Skull, and YOU!! WHAT: catch-all WHEN: mostly Satinalia and later WHERE: Kirkwall and The Gallows NOTES: post-murderhaus h/c is gonna go here
But, "What the fuck does that have to do with you?"
When he turns to look at her properly, he leaves the brush he'd been using on the horse suck on the knot, dangling. But the horse doesn't seem to mind.
It didn't make sense to her then, and it doesn't make sense to her now.
"He said someone knocked his friend down some stairs so he decided to return the favor," She lifts her hands in a I don't fuckin' know gesture and shakes her head. "You'd have to ask him about his fucked-up thought process."
That answers the question of whether Leander admitted to it or she deduced it somehow. But otherwise—what the fuck.
"I, uh," he says.
The words he's looking for are I'm sorry, but they're stored in a dark and dusty and barely-touched part of his brain, so he's going to need a minute. Meanwhile the horse behind him tosses its head, finally annoyed with the dangling brush tugging on its mane, and Kostos turns back to pull it free.
Athessa doesn't expect an apology from him, nor does she expect him to be so nonplussed. She cocks a brow at him when she glances up briefly from where she's arranging feed buckets for the animals.
"Don't strain yourself," she deadpans. Then, speaking to the bag of grain she's scooping from: "I broke his nose."
Invited to stop straining himself, Kostos does. The chance for an historic moment is gone. Instead he huffs a little—appreciative, amused, maybe a little introspective.
"I did that once," he says. "When we were teenagers."
"If there's anyone you should apologize to because of this it's Ilias."
She hefts two of the feed buckets and carries them past Kostos to the furthest two stalls, gives the horses there some affectionate scritches, and returns to grab two more buckets to distribute.
"But if you wanna get a drink just to get a drink, we can do that."
The face Kostos pulls makes clear there will be no apologizing to Ilias.
Probably.
Maybe later.
But in the meantime he's pulling a face, and then grudgingly saying, "Yes, fine." They can call it getting a drink just to get a drink. He'll know it's an apology drink in his heart.
Well, he has to wait until she's done pretending to be the stablemaster and making someone else's job easier, but Athessa figures he won't mind since he surely had other things to do here, himself. Once the horses and Stief the hart have their buckets, she starts to divvy up some bales of alfalfa for them all as well.
She also assumes he won't mind that she spends more breath talking to the animals than to him while she does this. Quiet mutterings, admonishments, and praise, but no more humming. For all she knows, he'd make fun of her for it.
"We haven't gone out for drinks in a while," she says, finally. "You still favor the same old dives?"
"Did ya split too many heels there?" For once she doesn't laugh at her own bad joke, because it's not even worth that much, that's how bad it is. Instead, she pauses and goes over the list of places she's no longer allowed, or places where her Bard training precedent would complicate things.
"Broad Beecham's is also a no-go, and they like me too much at the Nameless these days," The latter being a place that originally did have a name, but has a history of having its sign stolen. Eventually they stopped replacing it altogether and just accepted that they're better off without a name.
"How about that one in the warehouse district, you know the one."
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Well. True.
But, "What the fuck does that have to do with you?"
When he turns to look at her properly, he leaves the brush he'd been using on the horse suck on the knot, dangling. But the horse doesn't seem to mind.
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It didn't make sense to her then, and it doesn't make sense to her now.
"He said someone knocked his friend down some stairs so he decided to return the favor," She lifts her hands in a I don't fuckin' know gesture and shakes her head. "You'd have to ask him about his fucked-up thought process."
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"I, uh," he says.
The words he's looking for are I'm sorry, but they're stored in a dark and dusty and barely-touched part of his brain, so he's going to need a minute. Meanwhile the horse behind him tosses its head, finally annoyed with the dangling brush tugging on its mane, and Kostos turns back to pull it free.
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"Don't strain yourself," she deadpans. Then, speaking to the bag of grain she's scooping from: "I broke his nose."
Translation: so now we're even.
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"I did that once," he says. "When we were teenagers."
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"Did he deserve it?"
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He puts his horse brush back on the wall.
"Can I buy you something? A drink?"
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She hefts two of the feed buckets and carries them past Kostos to the furthest two stalls, gives the horses there some affectionate scritches, and returns to grab two more buckets to distribute.
"But if you wanna get a drink just to get a drink, we can do that."
no subject
Probably.
Maybe later.
But in the meantime he's pulling a face, and then grudgingly saying, "Yes, fine." They can call it getting a drink just to get a drink. He'll know it's an apology drink in his heart.
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She also assumes he won't mind that she spends more breath talking to the animals than to him while she does this. Quiet mutterings, admonishments, and praise, but no more humming. For all she knows, he'd make fun of her for it.
"We haven't gone out for drinks in a while," she says, finally. "You still favor the same old dives?"
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He pets one of the horses' nose while she works, because he's just a useless nobleman turned Circle mage like that, and watches her, too.
"They don't want me back at the Split Heel. Otherwise—your choice."
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"Did ya split too many heels there?" For once she doesn't laugh at her own bad joke, because it's not even worth that much, that's how bad it is. Instead, she pauses and goes over the list of places she's no longer allowed, or places where her Bard training precedent would complicate things.
"Broad Beecham's is also a no-go, and they like me too much at the Nameless these days," The latter being a place that originally did have a name, but has a history of having its sign stolen. Eventually they stopped replacing it altogether and just accepted that they're better off without a name.
"How about that one in the warehouse district, you know the one."