Why not you? I swear, you heroic types are all the same, it's always oh, I couldn't, and no, I'd feel awful-- you know something? Eto told me, once, that she didn't feel that much of a need to go home. That she could be at peace with it, too.
She told Four that. I asked her if she knew it when she killed her.
[he's bristling, still, hair tentacles writhing.]
You never-- you never ask what other people want. None of you. I mean it, don't you fucking die for my sake, I can't do that again.
[And that's enough, at last, to prompt Thancred to set his hands against the lip of the pool and shove himself up and out of the hotsprings, cascading water as he heaves himself up onto the patio and reaches on reflex for one of Rynlan's hands.]
Ryn. Ryn.
[It's not like he can't already guess the answer himself, but failing to ask is a point of contention at the moment as well, so: ]
[he's probably getting splashed, but- he can't really bring himself to care. he'll dry off. he just takes in a slow, steadying breath, exhales it, tries to keep it measured. too much. that was too much to say.]
...what do you think I mean, Thancred.
[it's obvious, he's sure. but:]
It's already been me, once. It shouldn't have been.
[rynlan leaves it at that, though, not elaborating any further.]
Something like that. Don't think I don't expect you to fight it every step of the way, either — the more you cease to be upset, and resume being a brat.
[Mmmmmmmm. His lips part a fraction, drawing in a slow breath at the care inherent in the touch.]
I did feel something. Difficult to say whether it was real, or merely a powerful memory. Having not observed any ill effects yet today, I was ready to assume it was the latter.
No pushing yourself, then, until you can tell for sure. Where?
[he keeps his hand where it is; he doesn't want to press on the bruise, but he does move his hand to feel around it, applying gentle pressure to make sure nothing seems to be fractured or otherwise damaged.]
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She told Four that. I asked her if she knew it when she killed her.
[he's bristling, still, hair tentacles writhing.]
You never-- you never ask what other people want. None of you. I mean it, don't you fucking die for my sake, I can't do that again.
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[And that's enough, at last, to prompt Thancred to set his hands against the lip of the pool and shove himself up and out of the hotsprings, cascading water as he heaves himself up onto the patio and reaches on reflex for one of Rynlan's hands.]
Ryn. Ryn.
[It's not like he can't already guess the answer himself, but failing to ask is a point of contention at the moment as well, so: ]
...What do you mean, "again"?
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...what do you think I mean, Thancred.
[it's obvious, he's sure. but:]
It's already been me, once. It shouldn't have been.
[rynlan leaves it at that, though, not elaborating any further.]
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[Someone owned a ring once, and now it's on a chain around Rynlan's neck instead of on someone's finger where it likely belongs.]
I've no intention of inviting a second demise. Or of letting one claim you, either.
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[he still doesn't want to die-- he just doesn't want to be sacrificed for, either.]
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[always clarify the terms beforehand.]
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[a couple smooches wouldn't hurt either probably]
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[the smooches can be negotiated.]
...fine. I'll consider it a deal.
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[He reaches up, winding one of Ryn's tendrils of hair around his finger.]
Now, back to that bit you were saying before, about the things I want to offer you...
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he thinks he likes it, honestly.]
Oh? What about them?
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'Tis a fine line between shyness and reluctance, and when I can't tell the difference, I assume the latter.
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[he's settled in with his legs crossed, at some point-- elbow propped on his knee, chin in his palm.]
That was impressive, last night. Handling a giant sword with two knives.
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[Hm. Cute.]
Ah, you were watching our little spectacle, then?
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[thancred you were fighting at the onsen.
after a moment, though, he pivots right to:]
Are you all right, after that?
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[looks down at the big ugly bruise emblazoned square across the middle of his chest.]
Nav throws a punch like a runaway behemoth. I'm fairly certain I felt something rattle, taking that one.
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Not enough to rattle out of place, I hope.
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I did feel something. Difficult to say whether it was real, or merely a powerful memory. Having not observed any ill effects yet today, I was ready to assume it was the latter.
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[he keeps his hand where it is; he doesn't want to press on the bruise, but he does move his hand to feel around it, applying gentle pressure to make sure nothing seems to be fractured or otherwise damaged.]
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[He's breathing slowly, more shallow than deep, but the plane of his chest still swells and recedes with air every time he draws in and releases it.]
Pressure to the center, and an ache around the heart.
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[he removes his gloves, then rests his hand flat over his heart, taking the other to press a thumb against his wrist. one more quick check.]
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