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[inaclovenpine]

[After this ill-fated conversation with Andrew Wells.]

The Caribbean inlet outside is having a storm.

Which is kind of weird, because the rest of the lake is just kind of cloudy and cold. The sky over the inlet is heavy with clouds and rain, though, and lightning flashes back and forth from cloud to cloud.

WHY ARE MORTALS LIKE THAT.

Comments

[inaclovenpine]

"Is foolish courage better, though, than none?"

[semicharmed]

"Oh--sometimes."

A crooked smile.

"But you know, I would say that. I can nail foolish courage or hapless awareness; not the other stuff so much."

[inaclovenpine]

"'Twas neither foolishness nor haplessness that brought thee to this beach."

[semicharmed]

Matt finally realizes why she looks strange: it's not her mood or the fact that she's a spirit; it's that he's looking at her through the amber lens of his shield spell.

Sheepishly, he breathes out, and the spell fades.


"I wanted to help."

[inaclovenpine]

"I thank thee for it, truly."

[semicharmed]

He flicks a small smile her way.

"Do you feel any better? It's okay if not."

[inaclovenpine]

She shakes her head.

"I cannot say. I am not angry, now." She amends, "Or not as angry, now, not at Andrew."

[semicharmed]

Matt huffs a sigh.

"That's good, I think. As long as you're not angry at yourself instead."

Because Matt would count that as his fault and it is totally not what he intended.

[inaclovenpine]

She gives him an odd look.

"If I am furious when Andrew, thee, or any mortal blinds and binds themselves, why would I not be angry at myself if I run headlong into the same snares?"

Shrugging, she waves a hand. An idle gust of wind moves down the shore with the gesture, shifting the sand in its path.

"'Tis little matter, anyway. It does not change my contract by a day. When time runs out, 'tis out, 'tis rid-- 'till then I am my master's to be bid."

[semicharmed]

Matt's eyes follow the shifting of the sand.

He wants to say maybe not, or God I hate that guy, or isn't it fucking funny how they all make us so grateful they haven't been worse.

He's quiet a moment instead.


"Well--I'll be here," he says eventually. "Milliways and timelines notwithstanding, I'll be here to--try and explain mortals to you, or apologize because we don't make sense. Until it's rid."

[inaclovenpine]

Another breeze ruffles his hair.

"Thou shouldst not offer what cannot be done," she says, flat. "Mortals are inexplicable."

[semicharmed]

His lips twitch.

"I did say 'try.'"

[inaclovenpine]

"Well, well. Then thou canst try."