rogueinladysclothing | A turn of magical events [Tagging Viatorus]

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?"

She doesn't attempt to speak when he comes out of his room. The serious look on his face and the subtle shake of fear make it difficult for her to breathe, but she pushes through. This is the end she knew was coming, so she has to see this through.

Truly, this is for the best.

When he finishes, she takes a breath to steady herself before speaking. "I agree with everything you've said. This is..." painful, heartbreaking, "necessary, for us both. We both need to break free from this and getting everything out in the open before we put it behind us is the best solution." The most painful as well, but that part need not be said.

Carefully, she folds her hands in her lap to give herself an extra moment to think. "Would you like to go first or should I?" Honestly, she'd prefer he go first, so she has a little more time to recover from her own outburst, but she won't force him. As painful as it is, she still loves him and she would do anything to make this easier on him.

It's on the tip of his tongue to tell her to go ahead and say her bit. A moment's thought reminds him that it's highly likely he'd panic and back away if he tries to speak without this surge of energy.

"I..." He looks from the floor to Amelia. It's a difficult move, but he needs her to see that he's earnest. "I want you to know that I'm sorry." A beat instead of a breath. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I really am sorry."

Why is this so terrifying? Suddenly he finds himself drained and his gaze floats over to the chair furthest away from Amelia. He starts to drift over to it, hand outstretched as if he expects to fall. Part of him does. He feels weak. Sick.

"I wish I could tell you how much it means that... that you would... would care so much about me. I've done nothing to deserve it. I wish I could live up to what you see in me. I wish I could... repay what you've done for me. I wish you hadn't done so much." Finding the seat, he guides himself into it slowly. "In the end, the only thing I bring anyone is disappointment."

His head falls into his hands for a second so that he can take a deep breath and compose his expression. When they fall away, he looks at Amelia seriously. "I... I want you to know that this... this. This is no reflection on you. It's... It's my family's tradition. It's not a comment on how men, on how anyone sees you. If I could-." He stops himself, and looks at his hands again. Goes quiet. "If I could consider returning your affections... I'm sure I would." A slow, deep breath. "I-I-I wanted you to know that. I don't want you thinking badly of love because of me."

She listens to him with a calm, neutral expression despite the tears running down her cheeks. Even if this hurts, even if it's the worst thing she's ever been through, she won't break down - not here, not yet. They both need the chance to get through their piece before they can move on.

"I know you don't mean to hurt me." Dreams, why is her voice so weak? She's certain a moment ago it was strong, but now it's caught in her throat and the effort to push it out is excruciating. "I knew your family's traditions long ago, and yet..." Her eyes drop from his, but she doesn't turn away. "I hurt us both by admitting to something that could never be, by being the selfish, horrible person I am and for that I can never be forgiven. I don't deserve to be forgiven. I-it's so unfair to you. I shouldn't have done this. Dreams, I wish I had never--"

With a sharp intake of breath, she cuts herself off. If she follows down that particular path, she won't ever find her way off of it. She inhales slowly, but doesn't exhale. "I won't take any of this personally. It's not your fault. I have only myself to blame." Another breath, but this time she lets it out slowly. "You're a wonderful person and any woman would be lucky to be your wife." And even from afar I'll envy her. "You deserve every happiness and kindness the multiverse has to offer, Viatorus, even if you don't see it. Don't ever think so little of yourself - you do yourself such harm by being so hard on yourself."

And now... the hard part. Slowly, she rubs away a few of the tears in her eyes, ignoring those escaping down her cheeks, and looks back up at him, trying to meet his gaze if he'll allow it. "I love you, Viatorus, but I will never hurt you again by saying so. I hope that you'll be able to forget this ever happened and be happy with whomever you marry, that you live a long and happy life with her and never be distracted from that."

With one final breath, she sighs softly. "But before we move on... can I ask a favor?"

Hearing that she doesn't blame him lifts a weight and he's able to lift his head again to look at her. When he hears who she does blame, his expression falls in dismay. He leans towards her, trying to tell her with his eyes that he thinks no such thing. Trying, without interrupting her, to assure her that it wasn't her fault. She's not to blame. If anyone is, it's him for adhering to the traditions of long dead men. But not her. Never her.

It's on the tip of his tongue to say something, to reassure her, when she offers another way of helping. The idea of a favour distracts him completely. He eagerly answers, "Yes, of course. Anything."

In this moment, she doesn't want his comfort. If anything, she'd prefer to be hurt so that all of this would actually feel right, like she knows it should.

Hence her asking for the most awful favor.

"I know this isn't in your nature and you're going to tell me this isn't necessary, but I need you to do this - for both of us." She keeps her eyes locked on his as her hands come together and grip each other tightly, needing the support. She doesn't want him to notice how difficult this is for her. "Tell me you don't love me. No more of this 'I can't,' because that leaves doors open. I don't care if you mean it or not, make us believe it's true and set us both free from this. If you don't, we'll both always wonder if, just maybe, we could have found a way. There will be something to hold on to, something to dream about, and we can't have that. You can't think about what could have been and I need to let you go."

The more she explains her request the further back he pulls, watching her, confusion and a touch of shock. This couldn't be further from what he wanted. His head trembles as he shakes his refusal. "I-I can't. I can't do that. Why would I...? I can't. That would be so... I can't."

This was the reaction she was expecting, but it's not the one she wants. Nothing about this is going to be easy, but it must be done anyway.

"You can do it and you must." Her voice is firm and unwavering. "Don't you see that simply walking away from this conversation won't be enough? To leave the door open, even the smallest amount, will only make this harder for both of us. I can convince my heart that this never meant anything, but I need you to tell me you don't love me first."

A beat, and then she adds, "If you don't, then I will never be able to fully move past this."

He turns away with a wince as though physically pained. Silence fills the room as he grapples with her request. It's several long beats before he quietly says, "It's so cruel. So... unnecessary and cruel. I don't want to."

It's hard for her to fight the rising tide of anger in her. This only gets harder the more he fights back, the more he pushes on her, the more he tries to help by refusing her request. She shifts to cross her arms in front of her chest and grips her elbows tightly. She has to keep control or they'll never speak after this moment.

Time for a much less kind approach.

"I understand your resistance, and I hope you realize this isn't something I want either, but it's something I need. Don't you think I'd rather live in this fantasy where, someday, maybe, we could find a way to make this work? Where all of my efforts might prove to be worth something?" She shakes her head and sighs. "You and I both know that this conversation ends any possibility of that as I won't put in a bid to be your wife now that you've asked me not to speak of this to Isidor." A beat to let that detail sink in before she asks, "Don't you care enough about me to let me free of that dream? Can't you see that holding this back will only hurt me more?"

There's a harshness to her words which makes him fluster. His small request suddenly something Amelia's resentful of, and every action laid out before him is one of wickedness. His cheeks turn red, his eyes start to as well. He wants to tell her that's not what he meant, but... then that would be unkind as well. Hope and hopeless are both unfair here, and he feels the fear rise again as he makes what will inevitably be the wrong decision, no matter what he picks.

He pulls away from her, pressing into the chair as if it might hide him. A hand starts rubbing his chest and neck, hoping that might calm the stress curling around it and restricting his breathing. "I don't want to. Don't... Don't ask me to. Amelia... please... I... Let's just... stop."

Edited 2016-06-17 16:25 (UTC)

A turn of magical events [Tagging Viatorus]

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https://youtu.be/O3cYWrzQbkY

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