[ 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]

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. ]

[vorrutyer]

[ A shrug. ]

My strategy for robbing a house was always to start in the bedroom.

But no, that wouldn't be pathetic at all. I've known admirable men who deliberately arranged their lives so that they had no one. People are...weaknesses.

[latkje]

[ And saying things like that makes it really difficult to want to introduce you to his sister. ]

You don't have to calculate many risks when you don't have anything left to lose. [ He repeats himself. It still sounds pathetic. ] I'm familiar with the arithmetic.

[vorrutyer]

Mm. Though then again, to be fair, people without weaknesses scare me shitless. To be weak is human, after all, so those without those weaknesses are, well, somewhat less. Or more. Who knows.

[ By looks to Nash. ]

So I look at you, my maiden, and I wonder - is it possible that you're so ruthless? Uprooting all love from yourself? It doesn't look like that's the case, but that might just be your sweet face talking.

[latkje]

You don't make a tree stronger by cutting down its roots. [ Nash wondered sometimes if he would blow away, like leaves do, after their colors are touched with fire and there is nothing left to tie him down. ]

[ He thinks about lying; he can do a pretty good imitation of someone who doesn't feel. He's met enough people like that, over the years. ]

I have a family, Byerly. [ He even lives with them, some of the time. ] But as I said, I'm a different person when I'm at home.

[vorrutyer]

No doubt.

[ By inclines his head, but he presses: ]

But tell me - what is your plan for them if something happens to you?

[latkje]

They have each other. They'll survive without me. [ They have before. ] Your sister will, too, if she's as you describe her.

[vorrutyer]

Are any of them awake? Any of yours.

[latkje]

No. [ As far as he can tell, he's the only one from his world here. ]

[vorrutyer]

Why do you think you're awake and they aren't?

[latkje]

Because this kind of thing always happens to me. [ An exaggeration, but not a lie. ]

Though, frankly, I think I'm getting too old for it.

[vorrutyer]

That's not exactly an answer, dear maiden. Why does it happen to you? Why you, and not them?

[latkje]

Because I've been marked by fate. [ He says this casually, somewhat dismissively. ]