[For a moment, he's caught off guard. He would have never pegged this place to be so spacious, and he'd never known magic that could warp space. So, for a moment, he awkwardly standing in the foyer, dripping all over the place. He'd never been allowed inside here before and a great discomfort overtook him.]
[He should leave.]
[But before he could turn to go, she was already gesturing for him to sit. To get comfortable. And when he feels the heat of the fire on his face, the chill seeping in is unmistakable. So he does as instructed.]
[When Cecelia returns, she'll find that he's stripped his robes and boots off, sitting cross-legged in front of the fire. At least he's staying in his pants. He's currently rubbing his neck and shoulder, rolling his arm and stretching the chill out of his muscles, letting the heat seep in, his jagged scar almost weirdly bisecting his torso. He's too intent on the fire to notice when she returns.]
[it looks the same as before, doesn't it? in the other world...she's fairly certain. not that she can really speak to ogling the man that intently in her youth, just! that it's something so distinct as to not forget.
they're alike because Darin is still Darin. it's something that is both profound and painful, and she suspects any ache in her heart is barely a grain worth anything in comparison to his own share of troubles.
after all, he can smirk and snark and tease all he wants: she knows him. of him here, anyway; trying to keep the line from blurring between what she knew before and what is now is hard.
especially right now.
trees and bees is he ACTUALLY NUDE ON HER FLOOR AN--oh. alright. no. just the top.
gods.
she unceremoniously plops a towel on his head. it's for everyone's sake.]
[He reaches up with both hands and scrubs at his hair with the towel, attempting to leech the water out of his thick hair. When he's done, he lets the towel fall around his shoulders, the usual lift that his spiky hair has temporarily dampened. He almost looks like a normal person the way the blue hair droops and frames his head.]
I want impose long. Once the rain stops...I'll be on my way.
[while he's doing that, she's folding another towel on the floor beside him before folding her skirts to sit down on it. she fusses with the fabric for a bit -- it's a convenient outlet for anxious energy -- before forcing herself to fold her hands in her lap and actually look up and examine the state of him.
and feel strangely aggrieved all over again.]
What was it that cast you into the fog so suddenly? If it was sudden at all. Or were you just wandering blindly until you couldn't stand it?
[Cecelia's hands grip tighter as she quells a hot surge of fearful anger. she likes to imagine much more fanciful feats of his sort of wizardry, but the truth is his work is invisible, and that makes it more insidious to her.
carefully:] Can you still feel his hand? Even this far away?
[flatly, with a note of derision:] I very much wonder about that.
[she huffs through her nose, closing her eyes; it's easier to keep from running her mouth if she's not looking at him.
even so, she lifts her chin haughtily:] I wouldn't discredit one's instincts or conscience so quickly simply because someone has done you a favor or three, but that's hardly my business, now is it?
[Frustration tears at his senses and he begins running a hand through his damp and disheveled hair; a move she might remember from long ago. Whenever he was anxious or unsure, his hand always found its way to combing through those blue locks.]
...Ce...
Lady Ardenbury...
...I...feel as though I owe you an apology.
[He struggles with the words. Not because they're painful to say or there's no truth to them. It's because natures are conflicting inside of him. He's losing a sense of self. That fire is trying to flare up but the air keeps being sucked away.]
I've caused you no end of trouble and here you are...giving me shelter. I'm...I'm sorry for always interfering in the privacy of your Vale...
Are you apologizing for yourself or the man who orders you here?
[there's a bitter bite to her words, quiet though they are. apologizing for himself...or his master...does it even matter to him which one it is? gods, this is infuriating; she'd love to torch the Skywalker would it do much good, but...dominoes. she can't. she's learned.
such stakes care not for the things she cares most for, after all.]
I know I'm not always right but...I do want to protect the peace as much as I can. And...that means this place too, for what it's worth.
[He looks around, actually taking in his surroundings...and his gaze falls to her, kneeling next to him. It lingers, watching as the fire catches her curls, lighting them up.]
[He catches himself staring and abruptly turns his gaze back to the fire.]
...Can I...Can I ask you something? A bit personal?
[her eyes were down on her hands, running her thumb along a scaly knuckle. the movement of his shadow catches her peripheral vision and brings her attention up at the question.]
You may. Whether or not I answer is another thing entirely, of course.
...Why did you let me in here? I mean...we have a bit of a history of...[Fireworks? No that implies something...well, she did kiss him last time...]
[And as much as he wants to make the joke, he doesn't want to be ejected from this haven this very moment.]
...Loud disagreements. You had no reason to let me in here...in fact, you could correctly think that this might be some ploy or...or trap. But...you let me in...
Sometimes you act like you know more about me than I know about myself...
[they sit right in front of the hearth, but Cecelia suddenly feels so very cold.
her eyes stay fixed on the flames, her element, even as her expression grows more withdrawn.
after a minute or so:]
I knew you once. A very long time ago. You were someone very dear to me.
[when she blinks again, she does feel tears and huffs gently, unlacing her fingers and gently dabs them away. stupid.
briskly, shaking her head:] But that doesn't apply here in this realm. No one else remembers that time, so I've concluded this one is a kind of...splinter or alter.
So it's technically not that I know you, but I know a you.
[she turns her head so she can't even see him in her peripheral, her voice cracking a bit in places, dictating the level of volume she can speak.]
Certainly. There are many, many variables. The notion is quite boggling, frankly, and I lack the proper dowsing tools to confirm one way or another, so anything I say beyond that is pure speculation.
[she doesn't answer, just sitting as still as she can possibly manage, the only giveaway that she's not turned to stone is an occasional quiet gulp so she can recompose and force the impassiveness of her expression.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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[He should leave.]
[But before he could turn to go, she was already gesturing for him to sit. To get comfortable. And when he feels the heat of the fire on his face, the chill seeping in is unmistakable. So he does as instructed.]
[When Cecelia returns, she'll find that he's stripped his robes and boots off, sitting cross-legged in front of the fire. At least he's staying in his pants. He's currently rubbing his neck and shoulder, rolling his arm and stretching the chill out of his muscles, letting the heat seep in, his jagged scar almost weirdly bisecting his torso. He's too intent on the fire to notice when she returns.]
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they're alike because Darin is still Darin. it's something that is both profound and painful, and she suspects any ache in her heart is barely a grain worth anything in comparison to his own share of troubles.
after all, he can smirk and snark and tease all he wants: she knows him. of him here, anyway; trying to keep the line from blurring between what she knew before and what is now is hard.
especially right now.
trees and bees is he ACTUALLY NUDE ON HER FLOOR AN--oh. alright. no. just the top.
gods.
she unceremoniously plops a towel on his head. it's for everyone's sake.]
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[He reaches up with both hands and scrubs at his hair with the towel, attempting to leech the water out of his thick hair. When he's done, he lets the towel fall around his shoulders, the usual lift that his spiky hair has temporarily dampened. He almost looks like a normal person the way the blue hair droops and frames his head.]
I want impose long. Once the rain stops...I'll be on my way.
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[while he's doing that, she's folding another towel on the floor beside him before folding her skirts to sit down on it. she fusses with the fabric for a bit -- it's a convenient outlet for anxious energy -- before forcing herself to fold her hands in her lap and actually look up and examine the state of him.
and feel strangely aggrieved all over again.]
What was it that cast you into the fog so suddenly? If it was sudden at all. Or were you just wandering blindly until you couldn't stand it?
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... ... ...
I was reprimanded for doing my job. He...used his abilities. Knocked me to the floor so that I was forced to kneel.
[Even recounting it seemed to pain him. Like bile rising in his throat, like trying to choke out water filling the lungs.]
I felt...angry. Like I wanted to...to...
[He drags a hand over his face, the haze setting in again. He needed to recalibrate.]
I felt this defiant surge but it ended so...abruptly. I don't know what came over me. I don't know what's wrong with me.
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carefully:] Can you still feel his hand? Even this far away?
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...I've never stood in defiance of Lord Sywalker before. The man's done so much for me and...and I know that what I'm doing is good...
[He wants to believe it's good. He needs to. If he doesn't, he'll unmake himself in an instant.]
I'm...just doing my best. If I failed Master Skywalker in any way, I deserved being put down the way I was.
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[she huffs through her nose, closing her eyes; it's easier to keep from running her mouth if she's not looking at him.
even so, she lifts her chin haughtily:] I wouldn't discredit one's instincts or conscience so quickly simply because someone has done you a favor or three, but that's hardly my business, now is it?
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...Ce...
Lady Ardenbury...
...I...feel as though I owe you an apology.
[He struggles with the words. Not because they're painful to say or there's no truth to them. It's because natures are conflicting inside of him. He's losing a sense of self. That fire is trying to flare up but the air keeps being sucked away.]
I've caused you no end of trouble and here you are...giving me shelter. I'm...I'm sorry for always interfering in the privacy of your Vale...
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[there's a bitter bite to her words, quiet though they are. apologizing for himself...or his master...does it even matter to him which one it is? gods, this is infuriating; she'd love to torch the Skywalker would it do much good, but...dominoes. she can't. she's learned.
such stakes care not for the things she cares most for, after all.]
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I know I'm disruptive but...I actually have a little fun here. And as safe as the Empire has been made to be, it's sorely lacking in fun.
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a dry-sounding hmph.] So which part are you apologizing for, then?
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[her mouth tugs slightly, briefly. some things don't change.]
It's been heard, then. Perhaps that's some solace for you, since you've other things to be concerned with.
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I know I'm not always right but...I do want to protect the peace as much as I can. And...that means this place too, for what it's worth.
[He looks around, actually taking in his surroundings...and his gaze falls to her, kneeling next to him. It lingers, watching as the fire catches her curls, lighting them up.]
[He catches himself staring and abruptly turns his gaze back to the fire.]
...Can I...Can I ask you something? A bit personal?
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You may. Whether or not I answer is another thing entirely, of course.
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But...I guess I want to know...
...Why did you let me in here? I mean...we have a bit of a history of...[Fireworks? No that implies something...well, she did kiss him last time...]
[And as much as he wants to make the joke, he doesn't want to be ejected from this haven this very moment.]
...Loud disagreements. You had no reason to let me in here...in fact, you could correctly think that this might be some ploy or...or trap. But...you let me in...
Sometimes you act like you know more about me than I know about myself...
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her eyes stay fixed on the flames, her element, even as her expression grows more withdrawn.
after a minute or so:]
I knew you once. A very long time ago. You were someone very dear to me.
[when she blinks again, she does feel tears and huffs gently, unlacing her fingers and gently dabs them away. stupid.
briskly, shaking her head:] But that doesn't apply here in this realm. No one else remembers that time, so I've concluded this one is a kind of...splinter or alter.
So it's technically not that I know you, but I know a you.
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[He pivots her way as he attempts to process what she's saying.]
You're saying there's multiple versions of 'me' out there? Infinite Darin Altways?
[Did the universe just shudder?]
[Regardless, he plows forward.]
But...how do you know that the me you knew and I are the same? I mean...there's gotta be differences, right?
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Certainly. There are many, many variables. The notion is quite boggling, frankly, and I lack the proper dowsing tools to confirm one way or another, so anything I say beyond that is pure speculation.
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...[How dear?] What happened to that version of me?
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[she doesn't answer, just sitting as still as she can possibly manage, the only giveaway that she's not turned to stone is an occasional quiet gulp so she can recompose and force the impassiveness of her expression.]
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He uh...He didn't make it, did he...
[He rubs the back of his head awkwardly.]
I guess that explains some things, though. Like why I feel so comfortable around you.
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He was alive. Last I saw him. Alive, fine.
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