by Glenn » Wed Oct 29, 2014 1:12 am
Burnie met her gaze. The two of them gave one another no quarter. It was not asked. It was not given. Respect and affection were, counter-intuitive as it might have been, opposing forces. Familiarity was a trend, but it came at a cost, and until that cost was paid, it came with the taste of iron in one's mouth. "No, Egris," though there were other words that tickled upon her name, darling and dearest, and sweetheart, betrothed, things he might have said in another setting, in another sentence, "that was your plan."
Bitterness and admiration and maybe just a little concern, if not for her, then for Myrken, but maybe for her after all. The former Governor had a tendency to lead with the sting and then follow up with something more tender. "Is Henderson alright?" Oh yes, terribly tender, that. Widows would weep.
Still, these were two notions that she had to know he meant, because with her wearing honest concern, he was far less likely to play games. Honest anything was held in quite high regard between the two and their constant cat and mouse maneuverings. "It was bad, wasn't it?" He would not shy away from her eyes, quite the opposite. "Shame. We could have weaved a tapestry out of this; I could have talked about how you know my sources and watch me like a bird of prey and how anything as new as this group would be utterly out of my realm of knowledge. Then you could scowl at me and not believe me and we'd end up back on the table in a shoving contest at which point I'd lament the fact that you're wearing boots and I'm not." She had blood and violence and maybe even dark magic in her mind, flashes of adrenaline-laced moments rushing about, this way and that, playing havoc with even her usually steady pulse. He tossed other images at her, but it likely didn't help a bit.
"Fine." One step back, if not in defeat than in acceptance of the situation and her concern, and even more than that, the fact she had so freely come to him. "In truth, I don't know much. It's not a lie. I'm cut off from the machinery I created. They're ill-served by the restructuring and best served, within it, by me keeping my distance. It's more important than me," which was an arrogance of a backwards and inverted sort. "Bern's some sort of elf, right?" It may have been due to the war becoming matter-of-fact in Thessilane, or an aftereffect of Rhaena's reign, or just the general sense of confusion and opportunity that followed, but more and more, they were seeing non-humans arrive or make themselves known in Myrken lately. That was the sort of stimuli that could further stir the pot. People were afraid of what was different, even here, especially here.
And now that he'd gotten past the preliminaries, drink was poured. He never did seem to drink as much as he ought to, given his situation. If she ever asked him why, he might well tell her, but that would mean she'd have to admit she was looking in the first place. "I don't know much," he repeated, because it was a point of pride to answer questions such as this, even as limited as he now was, "but if you want to keep your activities a secret, deep red is a terrible choice for clothing, especially when they highlight elements of a uniform. People notice uniforms here. They mean something," and he had to bite his tongue to prevent a story from coming out. There wasn't time and for once he, for her, could accept that. "More than five, less than ten. Carrying some sort of strange instruments, weapons, something. I was going to venture out and have a look, maybe," which was probably a lie, but not one worth calling him on. There was a spark missing from him these days and the lack of that spark was one of the things that enabled moments like this. He was leashed only by his own lethargy, no matter the cause of that, and she well knew it.
"They've only been here a few days and haven't done anything disruptive, not that I've heard about at least. At the same time, they're not making any real attempt to hide their presence. Either it's simple arrogance (because they seem to be foreigners; did I mention that? From far enough afield that we've no record of them) or they want someone to know they're here to smoke that person out." He turned his hands upwards, not exactly showing her his belly. It was as apologetic a gesture as she'd get from him. "Like I said, I don't know much. I didn't think you wanted me that engaged with what was going on. If I'm wrong about that, I could make more of an effort," because he couldn't help but say something playful in there, even in the midst of serious business.