Consolation Prize

Re: Consolation Prize

Postby catch » Wed Jul 03, 2013 3:52 am

"He says, he says he d-d-doesn't remember who I am," catch says, speaking of the boy as if he were not here, even though his red-rimmed eyes glared directly at him. "He says, he says he would like t-t-to be friends some day, as if we're n-n-not friends." Didn't Rhaena know? She knew everything. She heard everything. She just had to stretch out her mind and take it, and the Rhaena-taste on everyone told Catch that she has. Could. Would. So is this, then, a lie? Catch couldn't tell, not by himself. Perhaps it was a mistake. But Catch knew what Elliot had said, what he had written.

Only he could do this thing. Catch's chin pillowed against his bared chest, regarding the offered hand with a face full of longing-resolve. Why should I take it, he thinks, bitterly. it is because she wanted this. Because she needed it. It was a Trade, but an ill-tasting sort; pies and teas and affection, only so long as something was needed, something was wanted. Like putting things together with his head.

Be cautious, he had often be warned, by an Elliot exasperated. They're only nice because of the things you can do.

Catch stretched out his hand, hesitant, quite certain that this is a Joke, that the hand would be snatched away before he could take it, his silver-scarred fingers a tight, needful heat.

"I know about th-th-the Wall," he says, an inexcusable affront to the wilderness. "But you've n-n-not said th-th-that you would burn the Black Man, who is a dead-thing, and I want him gone."
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Re: Consolation Prize

Postby Jirai » Wed Jul 03, 2013 4:00 am

"You just got your horn, didn't you, Catch? It's a beautiful thing. Perhaps you will find remembering easier with it by your side."

Does she lie, this lovely woman? Not at all. But truth and lies are misleading terms, sometimes. "He wears white, now." She murmured, her hand curling gently around his fingers, made small by comparison. "I think everyone deserves a second chance, Catch. This is to be his. Isn't that a fine thing?" She smiled at him.

"Do you know why we need the Wall, Catch? Do you know about the channelers?"
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Re: Consolation Prize

Postby catch » Wed Jul 03, 2013 4:09 am

He stiffens as she speaks of his horn, his, his fingers unconsciously tightening on hers, not meaning to hurt, but he is strong, strong. The horn burned along his back, tight and cancerous along his spine. It is his, his. Everything is easier, for it makes him whole.

"It m-m-makes me whole," he tells her, tightly, word-for-word his angered speech to her at the Ball. He relaxes his fingers so that they are not so crushing, knowing that - no matter her bronze-beauty appearance, he is strong, and she is a girl, a Lady. He would prove, by being gentle, that he was not a thing to be pulled away from.

"He d-d-doesn't deserve anything," Catch says. Giuseppe had sat on a quilt like this, only tattered; Giuseppe had sat among empty-eyed dolls and dead beasts, while Catch presided. A tea party, a tea party, and Catch had twisted every weapon the man had into the semblance of a man, a rusted-man who dripped between here and Thessilane - "he d-d-deserves a burning. He is a dead-thing, and I hate him, and he left Glenn all alone for you. He is Black, no m-m-matter what he wears."

I serve the Lady, just as I served Glenn.

The Channelers. Catch regards her in sudden surprise, and - even stranger - he laughs. He laughs, a throat-belly laugh, startled into merriment.

"You - you th-th-think the Wall would st-stop them?" he asks, pushed through his chortles, vastly amused - and, for now, distracted.
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Re: Consolation Prize

Postby Jirai » Wed Jul 03, 2013 4:18 am

There is a wince as his hand tightens around hers, but then the large man relaxed his grip before there could be more than just that small change in expression. That was fortunate. Even more fortunate was his reaction to her mention of channelers, his distraction from the unfortunate subject of Giuseppe.

It was a distraction she seized on.

"Of course it couldn't. No wall, not even one such as this." She laughed along with him, her voice a light counterpart to his. "That's why we need you, Catch."
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Re: Consolation Prize

Postby catch » Wed Jul 03, 2013 4:28 am

She laughs with him, and his own chuckles are cut off as he regards her, his lips still wrought in a twisted sort of smile. Giuesppe forgotten, but for how long, how long? It was something they would face, eventually. Something Catch could never be bribed to accept. There were not enough pies, sweets, or baby animals in this world.

"Wh-wh-what am I t-t-t-to do with Walls, with Channelers?" He asks the fatal question, his hand turning hers, so that he might examine it, might pluck at it easily with the tough pads of his fingers, sleeve and glove-edge and all. "I'm j-j-j-just Catch. Very Grand, mind you, b-b-but just Catch."
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Re: Consolation Prize

Postby Jirai » Wed Jul 03, 2013 6:16 am

"You are a very Grand Catch." She agreed, smiling as she allowed him to man-handle her hand. "But you are a very Clever Catch as well. If the Channelers came, you would be able to stop them, wouldn't you? You would protect your friends."
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Re: Consolation Prize

Postby catch » Wed Jul 03, 2013 6:35 am

Catch's mad smile gentles, from something angular and terrible to something wan and pitying. His answer is to shake his head, his fingers abandoning their fiddling to cup her hand further into his grasp, his pale curls a brush against his cheek from the movement.

"No," he says. "I'm n-n-not entirely certain th-th-that I could, if there were many. And there are. They would hurt me, t-t-terribly, with fire and symbols, and they'd devour your Wall." They could do other things, as well, magic-things. They could read the scars on his hands, and throw him down into a Pit, and Catch would never face that again. It is clear in his eyes, even as they wander to the remnants of pie.

"I would t-t-take my friends f-f-far away. Or b-b-bring the channelers cakes," he muses. "After all, Ser Kerrak and Ser Kyl... Kyler - Ser Thesshole are lovely, nice m-m-men. They would b-b-be v-very understanding."
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Re: Consolation Prize

Postby Jirai » Wed Jul 03, 2013 6:46 am

"Well, perhaps we will be able to work together, in that case." She set her other hand atop their joined ones. "No one would want you to get hurt. I certainly would hate for that to happen, Catch."

She smiled, then, a pleasant little thing. "Perhaps it would be best if you learned to make cakes. Cakes good enough to bring to the channelers. I think Miss Genny would help you learn. Would you like some more pie?"
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Re: Consolation Prize

Postby catch » Wed Jul 03, 2013 6:57 am

Catch cants his head, his lips thinning. "I make very good cakes," he says. And it is a little forgivable, ignoring that Rhaena should know everying. Catch did not make cakes very often. "Th-th-they are rum-cakes, and they are very, very good." Not even Mortimer could be tricked into rum-cakes anymore, and the water-dragons ignored the crumbs altogether.

But he stops short, a swift intake of breath, a click in his throat from the quickening of it. She would hate for him to get hurt, and here, his hands quiver under - within - hers, his eyes, his pupils, widening, devouring the color in an all-black, even here, in the dappled sun-shade; black, and threatened water. "You've already hurt me," he reminds her, his throat injured. "You, you took your hand away, and your Taste is everywhere, and you put your marks on Miss Whelp and Worm-kin and, and everyone. Marks are terrible," he reminds her, "Marks are cruel. And Ser Elliot d-d-does not know th-that I'm his friend, and the Black Man -"

There. He is back to him, and his jaw sets.

"I w-w-won't g-g-o anywhere without him gone," he says, with a finality, a firmness, that comes from the horn. "He wants to kill Ser Eater - Cherny - and t-t-take him away, like Miss Renea, and I, I w-w-won't leave him. I won't let him."
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Re: Consolation Prize

Postby Jirai » Wed Jul 03, 2013 9:01 am

"I am sure Miss Genny would love to learn about your rum-cakes, Catch." There is a pleasant smile, but then... a misstep. They are common, almost unavoidable. Conversations with Catch are littered with them, crevasses that will open beneath your feet when you least expect them.

"Oh, Catch. I did not mean to hurt you. I only took my hand away because you were being rude and using bad words." Her hands are gentle, patting his own, a small squeeze.

"No one will kill Cherny. Cherny is a wonderful boy - I like him very much and I promise you that Giuseppe shall do no such thing. I will tell him myself."
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Re: Consolation Prize

Postby catch » Wed Jul 03, 2013 9:18 am

She patted his hand. He had used rude words, and so she had taken her hand away, taken his foundation, his unshakable trust that she, that Glenn, would always do their best for him. Even if it hurt, it was for the best. He had been civil, you see. See how her hand had been given, freely, without hesitance, when his tongue was a civil thing? He wanted to believe this, because it was a sensible thing. Because the alternative meant that he had lost more, and yet more friends, to some undefinable thing, a set of rules, a government, that he could never hope to grasp.

"I d-d-don't trust him," Catch says, his eyes blinking away threatened tears. He shan't cry. He shall be firm, a man, just as iron Shoes' iron hand had taught him. "You may, you may speak all you wish to him, Rhaena -" No miss, no Lady. "You may sp-speak, and promise, b-b-but he has left Glenn -" No Ser. "- And how m-m-may you trust him? He is a wicked thing, and wicked things d-d-d-don't listen, they m-m-make promises, and leave you in irons in th-the belly of a beast."

It is a speech unlike any he has ever made, a Catch-speech, and by the end of it he is winded, and there is spittle on the edges of his mouth, passionate foam on the corners of cracked lips. His heart is a fluttering bird in his chest, as if he has run miles. He will bring those hands - stone-not-stone - to his lips, and give them a gentled kiss, a wanting-kiss, a kiss that is half-frightened of reprimand, because he must not kiss.

"If your - your channelers c-c-come here, I will. I will try, th-th-though it burns me. B-b-but I will help Ser Eater, and Miss Gloria, too. And I will devour the Black Man until th-th-there is nothing left, if he hurts my Eater, makes him cry again."
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