[-but he's distracted by this rabbit? he blinks at it, taking it in. the little bottle, the shirt.
and because it is emotional overload week, he bursts into laughter, enough so that tears prick at the corners of his eyes. as he reaches up to wipe his face, still laughing:]
I swear to you-- I swear on the Void itself, if you picked a rabbit for the ears-!
[But it's — this is good, he decides. An odd relief, to earn such emphatic laughter when he's been more than a little worried ever since the trial, knowing full well the demands that the House of Mirrors likely put on his blue Elezen friend (or so he's willing to guess, based on not-altogether-subtle context clues), as well as the reluctant submission to the strip search for the sake of the collective.
Horrible stuffed rabbits bearing wine bottles don't fix any of that. The laughter might.]
Ah...how to sum up such catastrophe in just a few mere sentences? They were a casualty of being tossed in and out of death, I suppose. 'Tis a favorite invocation of a dear reckless comrade of mine — solving her problems by flinging herself into the Great Beyond.
[He shrugs slightly.]
The alternative was to be crushed under a falling ceiling or execution on false charges of treason. On the balance, I suppose the loss of a perfectly good set of honey-brown eyes is a worthy enough sacrifice in exchange.
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[He doesn't say "good" because let's be real there's nothing about this day that was good.]
Have a quarter-bell to spare for me?
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[all they can do is wait.]
Did you need something?
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[...]
Possibly offer you a gift or two.
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[his ears twitch, at that, as he flashes thancred a little smile.]
I'm doing better now that you've said so.
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[He says, as he pulls out his phone and offers Ryn a picture of the current state of the House of Mirrors.]
Well?
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[he peers at the phone screen, both brows raised, lowering his glasses as he leans in.]
But how did you manage to do this?
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[And from behind his back he produces gift #2, courtesy of the horrible Build-A-Bub workshop.]
Here.
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[-but he's distracted by this rabbit? he blinks at it, taking it in. the little bottle, the shirt.
and because it is emotional overload week, he bursts into laughter, enough so that tears prick at the corners of his eyes. as he reaches up to wipe his face, still laughing:]
I swear to you-- I swear on the Void itself, if you picked a rabbit for the ears-!
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[But it's — this is good, he decides. An odd relief, to earn such emphatic laughter when he's been more than a little worried ever since the trial, knowing full well the demands that the House of Mirrors likely put on his blue Elezen friend (or so he's willing to guess, based on not-altogether-subtle context clues), as well as the reluctant submission to the strip search for the sake of the collective.
Horrible stuffed rabbits bearing wine bottles don't fix any of that. The laughter might.]
Satisfactory, then?
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[this rabbit is his new favorite? it's his new favorite. he's just tucking it into the crook of his arm, for now.]
Definitely a big improvement over the rest of the day.
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[And having won his small measure of favor, he'll thusly be willing to venture: ]
What is it about the mirrors you hate so much?
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[still teasing-- but a little more subdued, quiet for a few moments before he speaks again.]
They're mirrors, Thancred, what do you think I hate about them.
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[Hmm.]
Well. If I can stand to look in one, I generally assume most others can as well, is all.
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I see myself differently from it. That's all.
[-but it's impossible to ignore reality when it's literally staring you in the face.]
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[Hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm.]
I still expect to see myself with brown eyes, sometimes. When I'm the one looking.
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[that definitely gets his attention; he watches thancred curiously, one ear twitching.]
What made them change?
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[He shrugs slightly.]
The alternative was to be crushed under a falling ceiling or execution on false charges of treason. On the balance, I suppose the loss of a perfectly good set of honey-brown eyes is a worthy enough sacrifice in exchange.
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[a little hint of a smile, there. dramatic magical solutions to cheat death? he'd like to talk to her about it, at least.]
Tragic as it is- [the entire experience, not just the eyes,] they do suit you. More striking this way.
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[He considers a moment. This really isn't about him, but also, it's emotional vulnerability week.]
And disabled me.
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[both ears flick, there, watching him with a mix of restrained curiosity and-- well. understanding, maybe.]
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[His gaze goes askance a moment.]
Even if I'd had any aptitude for magic prior to our foray into the aetherial sea, it's gone now. I couldn't so much as create a spark if I tried.
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[a loss, involuntary, nothing to do with his own choices.]
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[A pause, here.]
Look for your reflection in another person, not in a mirror. It's not just kinder that way — it's truer, as well.
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[after a pause, though:]
I'd prefer if other people didn't know enough for that to happen.
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[Interestingly, he doesn't sound like he's judging. Commiserating, maybe? Who could really say.]
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