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[ It’s not what she expects; kindness, when she knows she has done something awful. She does not expect to be reached for, to be wanted. She has been gone from court for nearly three years now, but she steeped in its venom so long her bones still believe that any misstep is her last.
And then it isn’t. No-one has abandoned her. No-one betrays her. No-one takes vengeance. No-one is snide, or cruel, or cold to her. She stands like a deer who does not know to run, open and soft and vulnerable, and no-one shoots.
It will be a few minutes before she replies, because she is calming herself so she does not cry again, but then she returns. ]
No. No. It should not bother me even if I did not need to guess because you have said “good-bye Alexandrie, I am going upstairs to be very tender with Byerly now and I expect he will be very tender with me and then we will kiss each other on every surface of the office including the ceiling.”
It only hurts to see it. It is only that I cannot see him turn to you in a way he does not turn to me without making a spectacle of myself.
And then it isn’t. No-one has abandoned her. No-one betrays her. No-one takes vengeance. No-one is snide, or cruel, or cold to her. She stands like a deer who does not know to run, open and soft and vulnerable, and no-one shoots.
It will be a few minutes before she replies, because she is calming herself so she does not cry again, but then she returns. ]
No. No. It should not bother me even if I did not need to guess because you have said “good-bye Alexandrie, I am going upstairs to be very tender with Byerly now and I expect he will be very tender with me and then we will kiss each other on every surface of the office including the ceiling.”
It only hurts to see it. It is only that I cannot see him turn to you in a way he does not turn to me without making a spectacle of myself.
[ In her minutes of silence, unable to see her face, he’d wondered if he said something wrong, and narrowed down to his last sentence as the likely culprit—that or his lack of concern coming across as flippant, perhaps that’s it—and started thinking through an apology, something gentle and concerned that doesn’t have anything to do with him going off to see Byerly without her—
But then she’s back, and he’s relieved, and he makes a doubtful little humming noise at spectacle and offers her that metaphorical fistful of flowers off the shelf. ]
You know, I think it would be stranger if we could do something like that without a hitch. Can you imagine— [ with all warmth and affection ] —how Byerly would behave if you invited your husband up for breakfast?
But then she’s back, and he’s relieved, and he makes a doubtful little humming noise at spectacle and offers her that metaphorical fistful of flowers off the shelf. ]
You know, I think it would be stranger if we could do something like that without a hitch. Can you imagine— [ with all warmth and affection ] —how Byerly would behave if you invited your husband up for breakfast?
[ A twinge, to think of something so simple as breakfast with her husband. A morning. The softness of his face in sleep, the clever sharpness after coffee, the space between them that is hers.
She shakes her head a little, comes back, is warm too. ]
I should like to witness it, so that I do not feel I am the only one jealousy makes intolerable.
There is little comparison, however. I am fond of you, and I think Byerly would murder my husband if he could manage it.
She shakes her head a little, comes back, is warm too. ]
I should like to witness it, so that I do not feel I am the only one jealousy makes intolerable.
There is little comparison, however. I am fond of you, and I think Byerly would murder my husband if he could manage it.
[ If he thought she meant it, he’d protest: Byerly’s no murderer, not really, and however much he hates the man, he wouldn’t do something that would hurt Alexandrie so badly.
But he knows she doesn’t mean it, so he only laughs. ]
Yes, there is that. Still, though. It is all right. I wouldn’t have gone up, honestly, except the dreams were bad, and I thought they were only mine.
But he knows she doesn’t mean it, so he only laughs. ]
Yes, there is that. Still, though. It is all right. I wouldn’t have gone up, honestly, except the dreams were bad, and I thought they were only mine.
I should not have suggested it, had I known I would react so.
[ a breath, then, ]
I do not wish it to hurt. I should like my thoughts and heart to agree, but they do not, and it would be careless of me to pretend it is other than it is.
[ a breath, then, ]
I do not wish it to hurt. I should like my thoughts and heart to agree, but they do not, and it would be careless of me to pretend it is other than it is.
That is all I want to hear, I think.
[ She sounds a little strained. ]
But he will not say it. If that is true and it frightens him to love me as he does, he will not say so. He did not say that I was important enough to make any interruption in the path the two of you were taking—he did not speak of that at all—and then he says ‘of course I want you’ only after I drag it from him with my fingernails.
I cannot understand why he is confused by my being afraid that—
[ A pause. With some self-recrimination: ]
You do not need to listen to my grievances.
[ She sounds a little strained. ]
But he will not say it. If that is true and it frightens him to love me as he does, he will not say so. He did not say that I was important enough to make any interruption in the path the two of you were taking—he did not speak of that at all—and then he says ‘of course I want you’ only after I drag it from him with my fingernails.
I cannot understand why he is confused by my being afraid that—
[ A pause. With some self-recrimination: ]
You do not need to listen to my grievances.
[ Another pause, then softly: ]
Yes.
I only wished to be told that I am beautiful, that I am loved, that I would be missed. To be told these things because I need to hear them while I try to figure out how it is I am making myself afraid.
But he would not, and so I think I am not, and I do not think it confusing that I should come to such a conclusion and be fretful about it.
Yes.
I only wished to be told that I am beautiful, that I am loved, that I would be missed. To be told these things because I need to hear them while I try to figure out how it is I am making myself afraid.
But he would not, and so I think I am not, and I do not think it confusing that I should come to such a conclusion and be fretful about it.
[ More silence, and then very quietly: ]
He could do it for you.
And that is why I cannot be there.
[ A breath, and she sounds again as she did when she first called; herself again, if subdued. ]
But I will stay in the office, if you like.
He could do it for you.
And that is why I cannot be there.
[ A breath, and she sounds again as she did when she first called; herself again, if subdued. ]
But I will stay in the office, if you like.
[ He could try to tell her that it’s different, that he’s different, that they’re different. That he’s never bitten Byerly’s hand. That he’s easy—that they could spend most of the morning talking about Alexandrie and Byerly and their feelings, all but replicating the worst irrelevant-afterthought feelings that Bastien woke from that nightmare with, and a silent worried look would be more than he expected and plenty to calm his heart.
But he thinks she knows, and knowing doesn’t make it better, and hearing it again wouldn’t either.
So he smiles. ]
I do. I’ll see you there. And I will tell him he is not allowed. Exiled. Maybe he will write you your paean after all.
But he thinks she knows, and knowing doesn’t make it better, and hearing it again wouldn’t either.
So he smiles. ]
I do. I’ll see you there. And I will tell him he is not allowed. Exiled. Maybe he will write you your paean after all.
I do not need one. Only time.
Thank you. For your kindness.
Thank you. For your kindness.
A Fereldan spy, navigating international intrigue and his personal relationships with the help of a magical ring that lets him see an hour into the future... That has potential.
[ Somewhat more seriously, ]
I should have known better than to come, too. I just really wanted to see you and it made me stupid.
[ Somewhat more seriously, ]
I should have known better than to come, too. I just really wanted to see you and it made me stupid.
Edited 2021-02-27 20:10 (UTC)
[ A little humorless ha, even though Bastien really is letting Byerly off the hook far too generously. By knows Alexandrie, knows that she's prone to jealousy. He should have known that it wouldn't just be okay.
But: ]
And I wanted to...know that you both were all right. And to have you close. Very greedy of me.
[ A little sigh. ]
I hope it was merely awkward, rather than outright upsetting.
But: ]
And I wanted to...know that you both were all right. And to have you close. Very greedy of me.
[ A little sigh. ]
I hope it was merely awkward, rather than outright upsetting.
No, no, it was...
[ Fine, he was going to say again. He catches himself. Not quite a lie, but close enough he steps back from it. ]
I might be a little jealous, too, I think. Not territorial, not like that, but—it seems so much bigger and louder, with the two of you. And the way she focuses, like she has to remind herself anyone else is there. I can’t do that. The only time I am not thinking of everyone who can see me and what they must think and what I should say and what I should be doing with my hands and my face—I only stop when I’m alone, and sometimes when I’m alone with you. If someone else can see, I can’t. I hope that doesn’t mean I don’t love you enough.
[ —steps back from fine and into a puddle of honesty a little deeper than he expected. And sending crystals are convenient, but he also hates them. They’re only a little bit better than letters, so far as being able to gauge reactions goes.
So he makes a quasi-laugh sort of noise, self-deprecating in its awkwardness, and jokes— ]
See what you get when you worry about my feelings? That’ll teach you.
[ Fine, he was going to say again. He catches himself. Not quite a lie, but close enough he steps back from it. ]
I might be a little jealous, too, I think. Not territorial, not like that, but—it seems so much bigger and louder, with the two of you. And the way she focuses, like she has to remind herself anyone else is there. I can’t do that. The only time I am not thinking of everyone who can see me and what they must think and what I should say and what I should be doing with my hands and my face—I only stop when I’m alone, and sometimes when I’m alone with you. If someone else can see, I can’t. I hope that doesn’t mean I don’t love you enough.
[ —steps back from fine and into a puddle of honesty a little deeper than he expected. And sending crystals are convenient, but he also hates them. They’re only a little bit better than letters, so far as being able to gauge reactions goes.
So he makes a quasi-laugh sort of noise, self-deprecating in its awkwardness, and jokes— ]
See what you get when you worry about my feelings? That’ll teach you.
Yes, I'm well-taught.
[ It's an awkward little joke as well, because all of that is - well, it's a lot. A hell of a lot more than what he usually gets from Bastien. But he likes it. It's intimate and honest and therefore really special. But what's he going to say, oh, Bastien, I treasure your feelings of discomfort, and the way that you've had paranoia and mistrust drilled into you from childhood? So he just tries to communicate the fact that he is fond, and warm, and touched, through tone of voice alone. And he hopes that works. ]
Lexie is - like an ocean. Like a tempest. And I love a storm. But I also love the deep woods on a quiet day.
[ Is that a helpful metaphor? Maker, his poetry really is terrible. So he goes for honesty instead: ]
I think I've noticed it. When you stop worrying about performing. It's subtle, but I think I've seen it.
[ It's an awkward little joke as well, because all of that is - well, it's a lot. A hell of a lot more than what he usually gets from Bastien. But he likes it. It's intimate and honest and therefore really special. But what's he going to say, oh, Bastien, I treasure your feelings of discomfort, and the way that you've had paranoia and mistrust drilled into you from childhood? So he just tries to communicate the fact that he is fond, and warm, and touched, through tone of voice alone. And he hopes that works. ]
Lexie is - like an ocean. Like a tempest. And I love a storm. But I also love the deep woods on a quiet day.
[ Is that a helpful metaphor? Maker, his poetry really is terrible. So he goes for honesty instead: ]
I think I've noticed it. When you stop worrying about performing. It's subtle, but I think I've seen it.
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