[ closed ]

[latkje]

Who: Byerly (vorrutyer) & Nash (latkje)
What: Magic!
When: After the conclusion of the disease plot.
Where: On the road from Wyver to Olympia.
Warning(s): 504 Gateway Time-out

[ The road from Wyver to Olympia is well-travelled and well-packed, the long stretches of monotony preventing Nash from enjoying the landscape. Travel was supposed to bring variety, he thought, new sights, new sounds— not the same thing, over and over. It was hard to tell how far they'd come, at least in the physical sense. ]

At least we're done with that awful humidity. [ He runs a hand through his hair— short and wavy, it had gotten unruly in the heat. ] I have a northern constitution, if you didn't know. [ And a northern fashion sense, as Harmonian clothes tended toward the dour and conservative. Nash was also in the habit of wearing gloves. He's wearing them now, in fact. ] There are some things I just wasn't made for.

[ That hangs in the air a moment, then he turns to actually look at Byerly. ]

But you wanted to talk about magic.

Comments

[latkje]

[ He puts his hair back where he likes it and makes a face about the sideburns. ]

Well, they usually recite the virtues a bit differently than I do. I guess it's still better than the wild superstition of the Lizard Clans.

[vorrutyer]

Lizard Clans. Good heavens.

So are you a good example of nobility, where you're from?

[latkje]

I have the hair and the eyes, [ and technically, the status ] but not the gaping void where a sense of humor usually goes.

[vorrutyer]

[ A laugh. ]

Yes, that sounds familiar. Take things seriously, Byerly. You're going to bring this family to rack and ruin. I can understand well why you left.

[latkje]

[ He winces at that, as by his own moral reckoning, he did bring his family to rack and ruin. ]

You have it almost exactly.

[vorrutyer]

[ Hm. ]

Bit of a sore subject?

[latkje]

They said I would never amount to much of anything, and they were right. [ He smiles. ]

Do you want to talk about your father?

[vorrutyer]

[ By raises his eyebrows. ]

There wouldn't be much point to that. Everything I could tell you about him, you would already have guessed. Your parents seem far more mysterious.

[latkje]

I don’t believe anyone is such an empty stereotype. You haven’t told me much about him at all. I would wager him... [ He takes a moment to think about it. ] Well, conservative, obviously. Has a brother, probably more than one. Stubborn. Probably tall. [ Nash rarely met anyone significantly taller than him. ]

[vorrutyer]

[ Byerly sighs and looks away - but he's not actually irritated, not actually trying to make Nash suffer his reluctance. He's buying a bit of time.

Well, trust breeds trust, right? And he's already taken some damnably big gambles on dear Vorlatkje, here. This is a smaller one, and one with potentially a bigger prize. If he goes back into stasis, or if he dies, he needs someone out there who cares about Nadine. Someone besides Prior. ]

Older brothers, all. Three of them, and a sister. Which meant there was nothing for him to inherit aside from one of the more pathetic estates, which meant he scarcely had a penny - but of those few pennies he did have, he feverishly counted every one. Growing up, my sister and I never had unworn clothes, never had a meal with fresh fruits or vegetables - and he's still like that today. A small-minded, spiteful miser who sits and sneers about his superiority over every other person in his vicinity, Vor and prole alike.

[latkje]

[ Nash didn't ask whether he had any siblings, not because he wasn't curious, but because he didn't want to answer the question himself.

So he's surprised that Byerly offers this information up voluntarily— but then, most people don't think "having a sister" is something you need to go to all lengths to cover up. So, he talks nonsense for now. ]

He is aware that hoarding money until you die doesn't mean you get to keep it after, right?

[vorrutyer]

All Vorrutyers are mad.

[ By takes a last drag off his spent cigarette, then drops it and crushes it underfoot. ]

That was just his insanity talking. Or perhaps he wanted to preserve that wealth for the future generations. Joke's on him, then, eh?

[latkje]

I don't know. His son is the Emperor.

[ A pause. ]

What's your sister like?

[vorrutyer]

[ Good. That was the question he'd hoped Nash would ask - even if he's now damnably nervous about answering it. It's one thing to risk himself and his mission if Nash is rather more malicious than his sweet eyes and carefree manner would suggest. It's another thing entirely to risk his sister. Nadine is the one real handle on him. Threaten his Emperor, fine; Emperors have died for duty before. Threaten his life, and he won't blink. But his sister, whom he would lead by the hand to school, who would sleep in his bed with him for warmth during the winter months until that vicious rumor made that impossible, who he took a hundred blows for - a threat to her would make him crumple entirely.

But if he dies, then who will fight for her? ]

Sane. [ With a lift of his lip as he immediately walks back what he said - ] Not all Vorrutyers are mad. [ He tilts his chin up. ] I always wondered if she wasn't actually a Vorrutyer, if Maman had strayed, except we might have been twins. Anyway. Nadine. Sharp sense of humor, smart as anything. Far smarter than me. People assume she's sweet, but she simply lies in wait. Righteous, too. How many people, dear Nash, actually managed to retain a sense of right and wrong past their teen years? Not many, I'd think.

[latkje]

[ Nash has known his share of mad princes. Which is to say: he's known one Mad Prince, but the experience was enough. Still, Byerly loved his sister— and was telling him this, why? ]

I have met quite a few. [ More than he can count on both his hands. He doesn't number himself among them, except maybe in fractions of a whole. There's nothing more terrifying than certainty. ] But that was was a rhetorical question, wasn't it?

You haven't seen her in years.

[ A guess, not a question. But a pretty educated guess. ]

[vorrutyer]

On the contrary.

[ By points upwards. ]

I saw her not six weeks ago, up on the orbiters' station. Her and her children. It's a strange thing to know fear when you haven't known it in years, isn't it?

[latkje]

I wouldn't know. I've been terrified all my life.

[ Those tubes of glass— or could-be crystal. He didn't consider that living, really, and couldn't bring himself to wander those halls for very long. Things echoed too strange there, and it hooked the superstition still sheltered in his heart. ]

[vorrutyer]

Terrified about what, dear maiden?

[latkje]

Of the things that could lock me up in a tower.

[ A sigh. ]

Why do you mention your sister?

[vorrutyer]

She's been on my mind lately.

[ He flicks a quick look over at Nash. ]

I worry a bit. If I'm killed, or put back into stasis, who will look after her?

[latkje]

[ He takes a minute ]

You are taking a lot on faith.

[ Faith in the Nathans, in the idea that she might one day wake up. Faith in him, a disturbing and crooked thing. He had just said it, recited, more like: be pious, but not faithful. ]

[vorrutyer]

[ By shoves one hand in his pocket, and casts his gaze at the sky. He's thirsty for a drink. There isn't one at hand. Pity. ]

Mm. Perhaps. But faith is the weed that grows in fallow fields. When all else has died.

[ He gives a little gesture to the world around them, the broader universe, smothered by the storm. ]

The only other option is to let everything perish.

[latkje]

I thought that was hope. Easy to cling to, difficult to get rid of…

One of the reasons I tell people I'm a spy is because it makes it difficult for them to trust me. [ He's a bad person to trust; he disappears, like mist under daylight. And so he doesn't want to be depended on. But on some level, he's completely dependable. He can't help it. ]

[vorrutyer]

Have I burdened you with this, dear maiden?

[ The corner of his mouth turns up. Philosophically: ]

It's a conundrum, of course. A spy is to be distrusted, but an honest man to be trusted. So when you're honest about being a spy, does it truly breed mistrust?

[ Then: ]

Do you have anyone of your own? To be cared for in your absence?

[latkje]

No. [ He raises an eyebrow. ]

If you want to sneak in the front door, tell someone you're coming in through the back. [ It's not like the truth has to be honest. ]

If I say I have no one, it makes me sound really lonely and pathetic. [ The truth is: he's skeptical that any of his own influence will do his sister much good. ]