( semi-closed )

[exonerated]

Who: Edmund exonerated, Daenerys jelmazmo, Newt suffusive, & individuals invited into their temporary home
What: Housing shenanigans.
When: Various times.
Where: House #32, and maybe other areas in Olympia.
Warning(s): TBA.


( Starters in comments. Should anyone want to plot, just contact any one of us through PM and/or plurk. )

Comments

[reek]

[ Sometimes, Theon wonders if he wouldn’t prefer a lie. A well-constructed lie can be easier to swallow than a hard truth, and he’s lied to himself many times to soften the blow of difficult situations. His entire adult life may very well be one of those lies.

Luckily, this isn’t one of those situations. He’s pleased to be away from the silence and his own thoughts, even if it means he’ll need to return soon enough. ]

I thought I’d driven them away.

[ He smirks, a little too easily as he follows Edmund through and takes the offered seat. ]

From what I’ve heard, people seem to believe that our voices have never been below a shout.

[ Which may have been true for the past few days, but they finally seem to be quieting down now. Currently, their voices won’t even allow them to reach the volume level they were at before.

Theon has a touch of paranoia these days, and despite how well he and Edmund have gotten along, his smirk wavers slightly with hesitation when the tea is set before him. ]

What’s in it?

[exonerated]

Was it really an exaggeration?

[ Because from what he's seeing, just through the network alone, it might not even be just that. But fights are inevitable, he supposes, in situations like that — situations that Edmund and the rest of the population would not have known anything about if they didn't feel so passionately about it.

Besides, Theon's hoarse voice might be more telling than anything. ]

Just tea leaves, steeped in hot water. A favored drink, where I'm from, though it might taste weird and bitter to you.

[ And easy answer, bellied by his own sip of the drink. ]

[reek]

Clearly.

[ His smirk merely widens, but his eyes remain a cold and difficult read. There’s really nothing funny about the situation, and he knows it. He and Robb disturbed neighbors, forced Sansa and Jon from the room, and made their very personal issues far too public, all because they’re both too stubborn to discuss it in a private and civil manner. It can’t be helped now, though. It's out there.

Deciding he does trust Edmund enough not to poison him, he gives the tea a sip. If he finds it either odd or bitter, he makes no complaints. He’s had worse, and the hot liquid helps to soothe his throat in a way alcohol certainly wouldn’t. Politely, he nods his thanks in Edmund’s direction. Thanks for not killing him, bro. ]

I might tell you I've had worse arguments, but this one really has been the real winner. It seems we’ve gotten everyone invested.

[ Not by choice, obviously. ]

[exonerated]

That always seems to be the case when it involves [ family, he could have said, and he can only wonder what Theon would have told him, if he said that instead of, ] old friends.

[ There's no winning or losing in their situation. There's only a deep hurt that will fester until both sides of the story are told and heard. One continues to bury his resentment through terrible, standoffish attitude and cutting remarks meant to hurt. The other continues to linger in a cesspool of bad feelings, thought of love and betrayal warring in his head, undecided when it comes to pushing for answers and pushing away.

It's an old song, and one that Edmund is familiar with, although he can't say that things have ever been this drastic between him and Peter. Peter is the older brother, high and mighty, while Edmund is the younger, green with envy. They clashed constantly until Edmund made the wrong choice, but the difference is stark between Robb and Peter: Peter forgave him, long before Edmund even thought to ask for it.

He supposes, of course, that the circumstances are vastly different. They'd been lucky, that Aslan was there to guide them all. ]

Do you wish to talk about it?

[ Like the last time they spoke, he won't push. ]

[reek]

He’s angry with me, and his siblings are angry with me in turn.

[ At long last, Theon’s facade hits a stumble. Although he punctuates his words with a soft chuckle, it’s halfhearted as something sparks behind his eyes. It’s something faint and restrained behind the shades that he keeps drawn so tightly, but it’s there, and it’s visible. Perhaps it’s regret, or perhaps it’s just plain hurt. Robb won’t speak to him on the matter, not beyond their bickering. No wish of yours will I grant. Those had been his words when Theon requested to speak more privately. As far as he’s concerned, their argument is out there for the world to see and hear, and anyone can draw their own conclusions.]

What else is there to say on the matter?

[exonerated]

[ Edmund was once told that there are many stories, and you are not told any story but your own. Robb's story, his siblings' stories, and the part that Theon plays in it: they are one and the same, and yet different people will see different things, know different parts of the story. If only they could share it with each other, and perhaps there would be room to heal.

Though, on the off-chance that it isn't meant to be, it will be a hell of a thing to keep to yourself all these years. ]

Obviously more than you want to say to me.

[ Edmund shows him a small quirk of his lips. ]

I imagine that you would have wished to express it, if King Robb would only listen, with his anger and stubbornness opposing yours.

[reek]

[ In his frustration, Theon drains his cup, desperately wishing it were something stronger. It isn’t hot enough to scald his throat, but it is hot enough to make for an uncomfortable experience going down his already sore throat. Good enough, really, to keep his emotions from getting out of hand. His eyebrows knit together, and that’s the only true shift in his expression. ]

His Grace won’t listen.

[ It’s very telling, though, how easy it is for Theon to continue to call Robb by such a respectful title with no mockery in his tone. ]

There are truths he needs to know, but will not hear them. He thinks me a liar, when in truth he's offered me no opportunity to explain.

[exonerated]

[ No, Edmund thinks, he suppose he would not. He cannot imagine that it's like to be on the other side, betrayed by a brother, left alone to deal with the aftermath of it. Whatever the aftermath had been. Edmund understands that the crime is greater than what he could ever imagine, that perhaps Robb is not in the wrong to turn away from an explanation that he does not want to hear. The judgment is not his to pass or condemn — he is an outsider looking in.

Looking at Theon, Edmund can see a traitor, attempting to mend and not being given a chance to, if he has any right to it. ]

Perhaps it isn't as though he has given you no opportunity, simply that he needs time and space to heal.

So do you, I think. [ He finishes his own cup, and pours another for them both without asking. ] Forgiving is not so easy to do, especially to yourself.