rogueinladysclothing | A turn of magical events [Tagging Viatorus]

It had been his plan, and that she's already trying to foil it has a frown pass briefly across his brow. He's quick to share some of his scholarly philosophy, however. "You can never spend too much on something that's for reading."

"Nothing, but I don't think you're ready for it yet." He sets his cup down again, a stalling move to help him choose his words. "I... believe your connection with fire comes from an emotional, passionate place. That's usually how people connect with fire. Water is like that too. It's an emotional, empathic element, but it's less likely to aggravate the impulsive, combustive properties of fire. It might be a way to channel your emotion into something less... explosive. Earth will help you ground yourself, and let you dictate how fast you get acquainted with your power. It will help with control."

It's not that she wouldn't be grateful for the gift, it's that it's not expected and that she has more than enough money to pay for it herself. Truly, the idea that he would simply want to buy it for her doesn't even cross her mind. "A rare book is worth its weight in gold," she agrees.

As she listens to him explain, she nods slowly. All of that makes sense, based on everything she's been reading. "Control will be good. The last thing I need is to burn down the inn." She's actually rather worried about that. Finding a new place to live would be a little further outside of her comfort zone than she's ready for right now.

But before that thought can settle in, she presses on. "I assume we're not going to practice here so I can't start anything in your home on fire?" It's a poor attempt at a joke, but she's trying and that's what counts, right? "If that's the case, we should get going, because... Oh, what's the phrase I keep hearing... 'No time like now,' or something ...right?" ...she's trying really hard today, okay?

It's with certainty that he amends, "Most books are worth their weight in gold. Knowledge, perspective, it's all invaluable."

"No time like the present," he corrects automatically. It doesn't stir him into action, however. In fact, it brings a small look of disapproval and a sigh. "You're in a rush. Why?"

"Fair." She's not very good the the perspective part, but she'll trust the man who's spent his life studying to know the truth of the matter.

"Ahh! That was it. Right." Mental note made. She'll get it next time, for sure.

His question gets a little hesitation and a slightly pained smile. "I'm a restless person. I always prefer doing something than nothing. If you need time before we get going, I can continue reading, but I'm not going to sit around doing nothing while I wait." That's not all of it, that much is obvious, but she doesn't want to start conversations they've both agreed are best left unsaid.

It's not an entirely satisfactory answer, but it will do. He tries to smooth out the creases on his brow before he speaks. "Well... You're going to have to learn a little patience with this."

He takes up his cup again to sip at it. "Magical ability is like a muscle. You have to train your body for it, you have to train your mind, and you have to set out a routine. Learning how to use it is takes time. Overextend yourself and you could hurt yourself, or other people. It's not even worth risking, because you might hurt yourself so badly that you can never use it properly again."

"All the masters of magic are patient." He holds out a hand, fingers flicking out as he counts. "Oraskis, the Archon, Nathaniel Blackmore, every Healer that has ever graced the family... They all have patience."

"Training and routines are simple enough for me. Once I get started on something, it's easy enough to make it habit." It wouldn't be the first time she's done it and it certainly won't be the last. It's slowing down while she does so that's the issue.

His dropping of names gets a raised eyebrow. "Are these names I should remember for the future...?" Viatorus has mentioned a few names in the past, but the only one that's familiar to her now is the Archon and even that's just a title. "If so, what should I know about them?"

"Can you make not pushing yourself too far a habit too?" If it hadn't been for the watchful eye of his sister and uncle, and the allure of the dreamlands, he might have studied himself into a pit. "You don't have an Isidor to remind you to eat, and I'm no good at remembering for myself let alone anyone else."

"Oh, well... You don't need to," he admits somewhat sheepishly with a small crooked smile and a shrug. "They're my family, so they're not multiversally renowned... But they are all accomplished scholars. They're the masters of magic I know best. Though I don't think you'll be touching on any of their subjects. So no, not really."

A pause. "You might learn a bit about the Archon's work, actually... Maybe... but... not until much, much later."

"...I can try." She walked right into that one, but that doesn't make his reminder any less embarrassing - or his point any less important. Her cheeks flush momentarily before she crosses her arms in front of her chest and exhales to regain her composure.

"I'm curious to know more about your family, but I won't push." Conversations about them in the past were always slightly awkward when she pushed to learn more, hence her wanting to keep her curiosity in check. "As for the rest of it, if you think it would be right for me to learn more about them or what they do, then I trust you'll tell me. If not?" She shrugs her shoulders half-heartedly. "There are always other things to speak of besides magic and family."

Amelia? Backing away from a conversation about family? Either something's very wrong or she's trying very hard to avoid touching on feelings that are still bothering her. Whatever the case may be, she's not meeting his gaze any more.

Edited 2016-06-10 04:39 (UTC)

It's not a solemn promise, but it's something and he'll take what he can get. He smiles at her. "Thank you."

The smile flickers. Where he tried to be casual and relaxed, her reply feels... cool and distant. Maybe she didn't mean to come across that way, but the clear cut response makes him falter. But then, he reminds himself, she's always been good at doing that. The thought has him pulling a softer smile again.

"We have plenty of other things to focus on for now." He tips his head to make sure he has her attention. "I do want you to know that this isn't going to be a quick, or easy thing. I've trained since I was a child, and I'm still training."

One of Amelia's few gifts (or so she would say) seems to be taking conversations from pleasant to sad in the span of a single breath. That she's done it again doesn't surprise her, though her features tug in an pained way for a half second before she focuses on his words, tries to move back to a more positive attitude. ...it doesn't work.

"So even when I have control, I'll be spending the rest of my life fighting to keep it? And, since I'm starting so late in my life, I'm unlikely to impress anyone with what little I can do until I'm too old for it to matter?" She sighs and slouches back into the couch, her arms crossing in front of her chest. "I don't have time to wait. I need to learn as fast as I can, to be good at this now." Why must all of her plans fall apart so quickly? Why must those things that she want always be unattainable? It's not fair and it's that fact, above all else, that makes her frown.

Her words hurt, though he's not entirely sure why. It's... dismissive of his life's calling? Disrespectful of it? He's not sure. He doesn't know. Now is not the time to be mulling over his sudden emotions. It takes him a moment to bury them though.

Taking a deep breath he schools his expression and looks at her seriously. "What do you think about my dreamwalking, Amelia?"

His question is unexpected and she makes no effort to hide the surprise or confusion washing over her face. "I think it's amazing. The way you so easily move through them, change them, and help others is incredible. The way you've described applying it to other situations also shows your skill and dedication, which is equally impressive." A beat and an almost wry smile tugs at her lips. "I admit I don't understand it all that well, but I am no less in awe every time you tell me more about it."

She gets the impression that she missed something - or, more likely, pressed too hard on something she shouldn't have - from the look on his face. "...did I say something wrong before?"

If he answers, they'll get sidetracked, he knows it. Wrong isn't always wrong. It's more complicated than that and right now he needs to focus on explaining something else first. He pushes on, holding her gaze and ignoring her question, at least temporarily.

"If I told you I was going to give it up, because I'll be old by the time I do anything I consider important, or because it takes continuous work... What would you say to me?"

Her eyes widen slightly before a frown settles across her face. "I'd say you were lying - and ask how hard you'd hit your head."

She doesn't like this line of questioning. It can only lead to dark places.

"You wouldn't do that because your magic is a part of you, has always been something that defines you. It's different for you than it is for me."

"It's not something you can get rid of, or abandon." Not true. He knows he's lying, but now is not the time for technicalities. She's not able to appreciate technicalities right now. "You might not have known it until now, but it is a part of you. It will always be a part of you. It will define you whether you use it or not. A power, a skill that's yours. To throw it away, to curse it because it requires... time, effort, respect... because it does not suit your ideal of it..."

He can't even find an appropriate word. Instead he just sighs, frustrated at his inability to articulate himself. At the flippancy she's showing all of this. Giving up, he tilts his head at her. "What did you think it was? A gift that served your every desire with a thought or gesture? Do you think it doesn't come with a cost? With responsibility?"

"It's certainly not a gift, not with what I went through to get it. But I didn't want it for myself - I wanted this for you!"

The moment the words are out, she covers her mouth and looks at him with a look of pure terror on her face. All those months of hiding away, of late nights and skipped meals, of avoiding him altogether, and for what? For her to get magic and feel so overwhelmed by the responsibility of it that she wants to give it up already? For fear that her lack of control and quick progress will have his family turning down her bid to be with him?

How typically, selfishly like herself that is.

Her voice is very small and her words rushed when she speaks again. "I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking. I spoke out of turn. Forget I said anything, because it... it doesn't matter, right? We're friends. Just friends." She rubs at her eyes and tries to smile at him, but fails horribly.

Why did she open her mouth to speak? Why is she even allowed to speak? This whole thing is a disaster and she's squarely to blame.

"Me? Why would you want magi-?" The answer smacks him in the face and his confusion vanishes, leaving him stunned. He stares at her for half a second and then looks away to hide a sudden surge of emotion that a moment ago had been firmly locked away. Setting his cup carefully down on the table only buys him seconds.

"Ame..." Her name trails off and he swallows hard, taking a deep breath as he tries to process this without panicking. He desperately wants to panic. His mind already flooded with questions and outcry. Just for a second, he closes his eyes and breathes. When he opens them again, he still doesn't look at her, keeping his pained, confused frown directed at anything but her. "Why... Why would you do something like this? How...? In the hope that... I am not worth that. I was never worth that."

And yet she did it. She did it for him. How many people does he think would go to half that much effort him? And he can't offer her anything in return. He, whose marriage is the one being discussed, can do nothing. That's just the way things are. It's just the way things are.

He spots his hands shaking and brings them together, rubbing his knuckles in an attempt to steady them. Slamming his eyes shut again, he looks away. "There are thousands of... of better men. Men who can... Men who wish..."

"Yes you are." It's all right if he can't look at her right now, because she can't look at him either. "You are worth every pain, every struggle, every terrible thing that could possibly happen to me now. I would go through all of it time and again for even the smallest chance to be with you, to prove to your family that I'm enough." It hurts to say these things. Worse, she's certain it hurts him even more, but now that she's started this conversation, she has to follow it through to its end. To the end she's almost certain she knows is coming.

She smiles sadly to herself and rests her forearms on her thighs, leaning forward with a sign. "No one wants to be with me, Viatorus. I'm not kind or sweet or innocent - or any number of things that would make me desirable. I'm rash. I'm headstrong. I fight when I should settle. I push hard on people to get what I want and I get angry when I don't get my way. No sane person would want that in their life - and you shouldn't either. That's what makes this all the more confusing and painful for us both."

It's selfish of her to act this way, to try and convince him that she's not worth his time or effort, but she feels like it might be for the best. He can't choose for himself and if she can give him reasons why he'd be better off without her as a partner? That's all for the better. It'll hurt like hell, but if it can save their friendship, she'll do it. For a chance to stay close to him, to be with him in any way, she would do anything.

"Don't worry about me - I'll be fine, really."

"That's what you said last time," he points out before he can help himself. "And then you studied magic until you unlocked your own, all for..."

Suddenly his fidgeting is a wonderful thing to stare at. His thumb rolling back and forth over his knuckles repeatedly and roughly. "I-It's not that no one wants you, A-Amelia. Y-You're beautiful and passionate, and..." Viatorus tries to take a deep breath but somehow it becomes shallow, short. "I-I can't be a-allowed to want..."

He closes his eyes and his fingers interlock, straining against each other as he lifts his thumbs to help him explain. He speaks slowly, giving him time to pull all the words from the mouths of his family. "My marriage... isn't about me. I-It's about my children. I-It's about my... my ancestors. It's... It's about... not me. Not about wants. I can't... think selfishly about this, Amelia, I... It's not how this works."

She sighs softly. "It is that no one wants me, Viatorus. No one approaches me. I have the air of a woman who isn't worth the trouble she'll bring. I know this. I could change this, but to do so would mean denying who I am." Sure, changing would mean she could have anyone she wanted, but what does it matter when her heart only wants him?

"I'm not asking you to be selfish and I would never ask you to choose me." She would never ask him to defy his family or their traditions. Family comes before all else. Even before speaking with Isidor about what happened the first time she spoke of her feelings she understood that. But this is how she feels and dreams be damned, she has to say it.

"Hell, if anything, I'm the one being selfish - telling you things that are best left unsaid. I'm confusing you and it hurts to know that, but I can't... I can't stop myself." She frowns and sighs, letting her head hang in shame. "You deserve better than someone like me anyway and I'm certain your family will find you a fine wife. And then you can be happy and forget this whole fucking mess I started ever happened."

It's getting harder to keep control, to not get angry with herself for doing this, but she's trying. Because if she keeps going, she can surely trick him into saying those words she needs to hear to free them both from this curse she's put them under by admitting her feelings.

The more he listens, the more he hears the tumult of emotion pouring into each word, hers and his own. He can't differentiate them anymore. They're too strong, too much. His hands unknot and run through his hair instead, bringing his head down as if he might protect his mind from this chaos somehow.

"Stop it," he says, but his voice is barely a whisper. He's louder when he repeats, "Stop it. Please."

Don't cry. Ignore the pain in your chest. Swallow down the lump in your throat. Breathe. Lift your head. Why won't you lift your head?

"Y-You're lying. Y-You're lying, and... and I know you think it... it helps, but... it doesn't." It just makes him feel helpless. Again. He's always helpless. His fingers curl in, bunching up his hair in his fists. "I... don't know... what to do. I... don't know what to... to say."

She wants to stop this. She doesn't want to say these things. She wants to comfort him and tell him it's all right and that things will work out for the best for both of them. But it won't get better, not in the way they might want. He can't choose her and she'll never be able to convince his family she's worthy.

This childish dream she had is over.

"You don't have to say anything, because we both know I'm right." He can deny it all he wants, but it's true. According to his family, he deserves more. And he'll get it, because that's how families like his work. "My feelings don't matter and you don't have a choice. That I let myself have these feelings for you... Fuck, I never should have..." A beat and she shakes her head. "Any time I ever try anything I fuck it up."

She pushes herself to her feet suddenly and paces the room slowly, her footsteps not making any sound despite her heavy boots. It's a habit for her to stay silent as she paces like this, to make herself as unnoticeable as possible. "I should never have said anything, Viatorus, and I'm so sorry I ever did."

He can't stop his head from spinning. He doesn't want this. He doesn't want to deal with this. He's sorry. He's so sorry. It hurts. He wishes- He feels- No. He can't feel anything. He doesn't have a choice. He's not allowed. He doesn't want this. And round and round it goes.

As much as she says he doesn't have to say anything, he feels like he must, like he should. But what? She is right about two things: Neither of their feelings matter, and he doesn't have a choice. What more is there to be said?

It's not that simple, though. He'd thought- hoped that they'd dealt with it in their last discussion. Yet instead of resolving it, they had ended up here.

"What do we do now?" He finds himself wondering aloud. But the first thoughts that come to him are unhappy ones. What Isidor might say. That they should stay away from each other. What his uncle would say. That he should forget Amelia and ignore her.

"I can't do this," he announces a split second later. "I c-can't do this." And he springs from his seat to head back into the room, seeking some kind of reprieve from all of this.

As he passes, she reaches for him - but she doesn't actually touch him. She can't reach out to him, not now. It would only hurt them both if she did. Instead, she lets him pass by and doesn't say anything, her gaze falling to the floor.

Why did she do this? Why did she bother to say anything? It's only hurt them both. All of this... mess that they've found themselves in is going to be painful no matter what they do now and it's all her fault.

With a soft sigh, she sits back down on the couch and pours herself a fresh cup of tea with shaking hands. It's almost cold now, but she doesn't care. She hasn't come to terms with this yet, even if she's known for a long time it could never be, but it's obvious he's going to need even more time to let this pass.

So she'll wait - quietly, alone with her guilt - for her friend to come back. Until then, she'll try and figure out how the hell to apologize for something like this.

Once the door closes behind him, he leans back against it and slides to the floor. Suddenly he can breathe a little easier, though his head spins slightly. This is ridiculous. It's him. It's him. Lanky and knobbly and awkward. The mouse of the Durant family. He shouldn't be dealing with this. Sagyne should be dealing with this. Probably has dealt with this. For a second, Viatorus considers calling to ask for advice, but then Poenia would find out and... no.

He scrubs his head, hoping it will help him think, desperately wishing someone else would deal with this. Isidor would. But he might never see Amelia again. No... He has to handle this. What a terrible thought.

Closing his eyes, he breathes calmly, evenly. Waits for the pains in his chest and throat to settle. Then, slowly, he gets up and finds himself a little light headed. He puts a hand out, holding onto the wall to steady himself, but when his head clears, he realises what he's going to do.

With his hand on the doorhandle, he hesitates, feels the mounting fear threatening to pull him back into an anxious wreck. His hand pulls back, and he immediately winces at the cowardly move. The second time, he takes a deep breath but pushes the handle down quickly, moving into the room before he has a chance to back out.

"Before you say anything, I-I think we need to put this behind us. Isidor can never know. It wouldn't do any good, and- We both know that we can't have that life, we both know that. And one day you'll have a husband and I'll have a wife and this will all be forgotten, but we can't get there if we talk about this ever again. But..." For the first time since he entered the room, he pauses. "I... I think we need to make sure we've said all we feel we need to say. So... So we don't regret things. So we don't keep thinking about the things left unspoken." A pause and he shifts awkwardly on the spot, his nerves catching up with him. "What... What do you think?"

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