If only there would come a day when you would not turn from me...

[lone_must_stand]

[ n a m e ; ]	Aeriel
[ c a n o n ; ]	The Darkangel Trilogy
[ g a m e ; ]	in transit and transition

{ ACTION / NETWORK / VOICE / WHATEVER WELCOME }

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[and_warrior_arise]

He shakes his head a bit, because he appreciates the honesty. "Is your work so encompassing, so enrapturing, that you would neglect all else for it? Or is that madness?"

He thinks that Roshka can testify that their line of scholarship involves much more in the way of casual contact, in projects that involve others, in learning the art of leadership. There is little of locking oneself in their work, and ignoring the rest of the world.

"Do you think that Oriencor is-" he starts, but then he stops, as if Oriencor's name has stolen his tongue.

[lone_must_stand]

There is no easy answer to that question, Aeriel thinks; least of all to the last question, the one he cannot ask, one she should not answer if she is diplomatic but her twin is the politician, not she. She knows what it is to lose herself in her work, but while she tends to work alone, she does not make a habit of sending others away. Roshka knows when to leave her to it, and when to break her attention; Eoduin sometimes distracts her when she would rather focus, but Aeriel has come to accept the occasional interruption, she is fond enough of the other girl.

"From time to time," she says carefully, not because she is trying to be careful but because it takes a moment to put her sense of it into words, "you need to surface, or you drown."

[and_warrior_arise]

He attaches to that metaphor, because he swims, he has a scholarship for it despite the fact that he doesn't need it. "I do not know if I can keep breathing life back into her," he says, almost as a brush aside.

It's a difficult matter, to simply say such a thing, but Irrylath has this particular predilection, where he simply states things, where he is casual with his words. It is a merit, a display of power, in a way.

"I cannot keep breathing for her, when she pulls me with her."

[lone_must_stand]

These power games are beyond her understanding. She is, she knows, more of an innocent than most, but whatever is between Irrylath and Oriencor is strange, though it did not seem so until this moment, these words.

"She does not know what she wants."

They consume each other, if she must cast him away in favor of her work, if he must wait for her call to return. In truth, she thinks it is Oriencor's work which is unhealthy, and if anything her work ethic is an outgrowth of that, but Aeriel is biased.

She doesn't question whether he knows what he wants; it hardly seems necessary.

[and_warrior_arise]

He goes quiet, then, guides her down stairs, and stands before her, a moment, his mouth twisting into a moue. "Your roommate is Eoduin, isn't it? She is a sprightly girl," he says, unsure why he says it. To see if there is a reaction. To see her jealousy, maybe, if she displays it.

He wishes a reaction from her, he wishes her to do something, and he's not sure what. It is the kind of cruel game a cat plays with a mouse, simply to see, with no regard for how the mouse might feel on the matter. It is a game of casual dealings, a game with no thought or foresight.

[lone_must_stand]

"Sprightly," she repeats thoughtfully, before she smiles. There is nothing of jealousy in it. "That is a good word for her, I think." Aeriel is tireless but there is a brightness to Eoduin's energy, the spark that keeps her always moving, always socializing, hatching some scheme to win the attention she wants. There is nothing there to be jealous of; it's not a life that Aeriel wants, and it pleases her most of the time to see the joy Eoduin takes in it. When her roommate has company that keeps her from sleep, or insists upon dragging her out to some bar to make sure she gets home safe when Aeriel would rather be studying, she'll admit, it is less charming, but she accepts that as her lot in life.

Eoduin is not, perhaps, the sister Aeriel never had, but that is all right. She is as kind as she knows how to be, and somehow that hard-won affection softens the sharper edges of their lives. Eoduin is not accustomed to saying thank you, but now and then she thinks to do it.

They're close enough to Talb's room now that she hesitates, not certain she's willing to bring him much nearer. This place is a sanctuary of sorts; she isn't suspicious of his motives, but it feels wrong.

[and_warrior_arise]

He smiles just slightly, then, not enough to be bright, but the very slight smile of someone who is certain of what he thinks. She is bright, there is no jealousy in her. She is the sun where Oriencor is the blinding brilliance of a glacier, cold.

He leans in, then, and presses a kiss to her cheek, closer to her ear than to her mouth. "Are you busy tonight?"

That is all. Are you busy tonight?

[lone_must_stand]

It leaves her too stunned even to blush. Were all his questions leading to this? She should not have answered so boldly, perhaps. Aeriel is not wholly a fool; she knows other women pursue him, knows that some have gained a little ground-- knows most of all that there is precious little ground to gain, that Oriencor does not let him stray far. He has never tried to stray far, to the best of her knowledge.

But she hesitates a moment before she pulls away, because he is beautiful, because he has surprised her in too many ways already, and she wonders what he would say if she said no.

"You have a seige and a banishment to attend," she reminds him instead.

[and_warrior_arise]

He shakes his head a bit. "I think I have interest in laying my own kingdom, rather than entertaining another's."

She is blushing and it makes her skin rosy, it makes her look young, and perhaps he is for someone young, someone more his age now, someone who will not torment him when he finds himself busy, someone who will love - or like - him at both their paces, not at simply hers.

"Are you busy tonight?"

[lone_must_stand]

"I am,"

she says, and while it is true she could postpone her plans-- the papers she needs to write, the letters home and to Ravenna-- but there is a suddenness here that unsettles her too greatly. If he is serious-- and she can't fathom how he would be, except perhaps that he is looking for a reason to leave and she could be an excuse-- then she would do him no favors by letting herself drown in his eyes, by trading work for him and him for work.

"Perhaps another night, if you intend to renounce your throne..." she adds, keeping the metaphor so he can brush it aside as a joke if he wants to.

[and_warrior_arise]

He tips his head a bit, and smiles then, a softer smile than usual, a smile that is less flash and more honest. "Another night. If you like."

It's a sweet, quiet moment, and he releases her, taking a step backward.

and then Oriencor poisoned all of Aeriel's fish and slipped her advisor laxatives...

[lone_must_stand]

She smiles in return, pleased that he doesn't press the issue and oddly thrilled at the possibility that they might speak again. Perhaps he is only being polite, perhaps he will change his mind, but for a moment surely it is harmless to wonder.

"Good luck," she says simply. With Oriencor, he's bound to need it.