[There is, in the midst of everything else, the slightest twitch of Ortus' own mouth at Ianthe was there, an absurd bubble of joyless amusement that exists in defiance of all sense. Ortus has never cared for the surreal, in art or in life, but he is not wholly immune to it.
Otherwise, his face is still, his eyes deep and sunken, laced with a numbing horror that creeps like frost.]
We thought you lost. [He says, hushed.] That Lady Harrowhark's efforts had been only to slow an inevitability...or to salve a wound.
[Or had they looked away from a possibility that, even were it so, they could do nothing to affect help towards?]
She doubts herself overmuch. Perhaps so too did we. [He shakes his head.] To sustain the bubble in the River to prevent your consumption, all while fending off assassination at the hand of the Emperor - I cannot fathom it.
[He still does not understand what Gideon's eyes have to do with her heritage, so different from the abyssal voids of her father's, but that is detail. The broad strokes are sufficient for the tableau unfolding in his mind.]
[ Alas, Gideon Nav, who martyred herself to save her most important person in the world, has not fully processed that there might have been a non-martyr option this whole time. It's not something she likes to think about. This whole shitty story is one that she doesn't like to think about, although living in God's house makes that project awfully difficult. ]
Maybe you did. She's a creepy little bone witch, but she's a tough-as-nails creepy little bone witch. [ Gideon tries to keep her voice flat, even -- it should be possible, given that these are all objective facts -- but a little current of admiration still seeps through. ] It was -- [ time for the understatement of the century ] -- a bad time.
[ That's easy enough to acknowledge. But, oh, you should not have to endure such a thing? That doesn't add up. It doesn't make any sense. Ortus' mother had even said it herself -- she knew what befalls cavaliers. And that's true three times over for Gideon, who was a bomb to be detonated, and when that didn't work, a battery to be consumed, and when that failed, a furnace of immortality.
Gideon stiffens, any openness about sharing a goal or mission with Ortus now fully closed-off. What the hell does she say to that? Outright disagreement just sounds pathetic, but if she agreed with him even a little bit, if she started to think about what she did and didn't deserve --
-- it'd be a waste of their time, that's for sure. ]
Whatever. That -- it doesn't matter. I'm her cavalier. [ it all comes back to Harrowhark, in the end. There's something grounding about service. ] I'd do anything for her.
[Ortus knows what the eye of opportunity drawing shut looks like. He was overbold, a thing so rare that it did not occur to him that he could have been until it was done. He recalls her urgency in asserting her rights as their Lady's cavalier primary, aligns it with the armor she makes of that honor now.
It is right for a cavalier to do anything for their necromancer, even unto death, and past it. If he had been truer to his purpose, she would not have had to accept that burden, and yet to say so would be to take a thing from her she does not wish to part with.]
I do not doubt it. [He intones, quietly, drawing himself up and slightly back, his features tucked in as neatly as the edges of a sheet.] None could. You have proven yourself stalwart and true.
[There is more he might say, of the shadow of their House and the shame of its conduct, of his complicity and failings, but he has set enough of a burden at her feet for one day. He shall hold his tongue like a body, limp and lifeless.]
I ask your indulgence of my sentiment. I forget myself.
[ This is all wrong. Ortus has got it backwards. He doesn't need to feel sorry for her, doesn't need to ask for her indulgence. There's a part of Gideon, small and buried deep, that wonders if she's messed up, somehow. But second-guessing yourself doesn't get you anywhere, and Gideon reminds herself of that now. ]
It's -- you're fine.
[ Gideon tips her head back, running her fingers through her hair. Then, because emotional regulation is not one of her strengths, she lets out a rattling Ugghghghhhghhgh. ]
I know the Ninth House is, like, the master of making things weird, but you don't need my indulgence, or any of that crap. Just don't make anything weird. I'm the same hot beefcake you've always known, just, you know. I've got a new dad and a new job.
[ It happens! Very normal developments here in this run-down shack. ]
[If there is anything so incongruous as a twinkle in Ortus' eye at Gideon's tossed back, exuberant outburst of feeling, it is swiftly squelched. He is given to wallowing in his own emotions. That does not mean he is incapable of appreciation of flight.]
I am given to understand that 'making anything weird' is one of my foremost talents, aside from poetry.
[A dry, rustling effort at a joke, self-deprecation not as harsh as he might otherwise let it be. If she does not wish for him to fall on a blade (or to run him through by one), he will not gainsay her.]
I will endeavor to restrain myself from the exercising of that skill. [And then, in almost instant contradiction:] As I will strive to prove worthy of your trust.
[He smooths his robes over his knees, fastidiously, attention focused on flattening all wrinkles he can perceive. It takes as long as it may for Gideon to school her own reaction to that, whatever it might be.]
Shall we return to the house, or do you wish to remain here?
[ It takes Gideon a moment too long to realize Ortus has just made a joke, mainly because she wasn't aware? That he could do that? Not for the first time, she asks herself what the fuck has gotten into him, what with this newfound sense of humor and giving a shit about her and semi-spine.
Maybe dying rattles your brain. Maybe Gideon's brain is also rattled. Whatever, she mainly thinks with her muscles anyway.
She'll respond to the joke with a half-laugh that's closer to a snort, so he knows she's got it. And she'll ignore the comment about her trust, because that is once again a weird thing to say, and an even weirder thing to want.
(Besides. Gideon gave someone her trust. She gave someone her whole life, and they didn't even want it.) ]
Yeah, sure. That's all the news I've got.
[ Gideon rises to leave, and she almost doesn't look back to see if Ortus is following her. Almost. ]
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deercountry2022-04-13 04:55 pm
no subject
Otherwise, his face is still, his eyes deep and sunken, laced with a numbing horror that creeps like frost.]
We thought you lost. [He says, hushed.] That Lady Harrowhark's efforts had been only to slow an inevitability...or to salve a wound.
[Or had they looked away from a possibility that, even were it so, they could do nothing to affect help towards?]
She doubts herself overmuch. Perhaps so too did we. [He shakes his head.] To sustain the bubble in the River to prevent your consumption, all while fending off assassination at the hand of the Emperor - I cannot fathom it.
[He still does not understand what Gideon's eyes have to do with her heritage, so different from the abyssal voids of her father's, but that is detail. The broad strokes are sufficient for the tableau unfolding in his mind.]
You should not have had to endure such a thing.
no subject
Maybe you did. She's a creepy little bone witch, but she's a tough-as-nails creepy little bone witch. [ Gideon tries to keep her voice flat, even -- it should be possible, given that these are all objective facts -- but a little current of admiration still seeps through. ] It was -- [ time for the understatement of the century ] -- a bad time.
[ That's easy enough to acknowledge. But, oh, you should not have to endure such a thing? That doesn't add up. It doesn't make any sense. Ortus' mother had even said it herself -- she knew what befalls cavaliers. And that's true three times over for Gideon, who was a bomb to be detonated, and when that didn't work, a battery to be consumed, and when that failed, a furnace of immortality.
Gideon stiffens, any openness about sharing a goal or mission with Ortus now fully closed-off. What the hell does she say to that? Outright disagreement just sounds pathetic, but if she agreed with him even a little bit, if she started to think about what she did and didn't deserve --
-- it'd be a waste of their time, that's for sure. ]
Whatever. That -- it doesn't matter. I'm her cavalier. [ it all comes back to Harrowhark, in the end. There's something grounding about service. ] I'd do anything for her.
no subject
It is right for a cavalier to do anything for their necromancer, even unto death, and past it. If he had been truer to his purpose, she would not have had to accept that burden, and yet to say so would be to take a thing from her she does not wish to part with.]
I do not doubt it. [He intones, quietly, drawing himself up and slightly back, his features tucked in as neatly as the edges of a sheet.] None could. You have proven yourself stalwart and true.
[There is more he might say, of the shadow of their House and the shame of its conduct, of his complicity and failings, but he has set enough of a burden at her feet for one day. He shall hold his tongue like a body, limp and lifeless.]
I ask your indulgence of my sentiment. I forget myself.
no subject
It's -- you're fine.
[ Gideon tips her head back, running her fingers through her hair. Then, because emotional regulation is not one of her strengths, she lets out a rattling Ugghghghhhghhgh. ]
I know the Ninth House is, like, the master of making things weird, but you don't need my indulgence, or any of that crap. Just don't make anything weird. I'm the same hot beefcake you've always known, just, you know. I've got a new dad and a new job.
[ It happens! Very normal developments here in this run-down shack. ]
no subject
I am given to understand that 'making anything weird' is one of my foremost talents, aside from poetry.
[A dry, rustling effort at a joke, self-deprecation not as harsh as he might otherwise let it be. If she does not wish for him to fall on a blade (or to run him through by one), he will not gainsay her.]
I will endeavor to restrain myself from the exercising of that skill. [And then, in almost instant contradiction:] As I will strive to prove worthy of your trust.
[He smooths his robes over his knees, fastidiously, attention focused on flattening all wrinkles he can perceive. It takes as long as it may for Gideon to school her own reaction to that, whatever it might be.]
Shall we return to the house, or do you wish to remain here?
no subject
Maybe dying rattles your brain. Maybe Gideon's brain is also rattled. Whatever, she mainly thinks with her muscles anyway.
She'll respond to the joke with a half-laugh that's closer to a snort, so he knows she's got it. And she'll ignore the comment about her trust, because that is once again a weird thing to say, and an even weirder thing to want.
(Besides. Gideon gave someone her trust. She gave someone her whole life, and they didn't even want it.) ]
Yeah, sure. That's all the news I've got.
[ Gideon rises to leave, and she almost doesn't look back to see if Ortus is following her. Almost. ]