herr_bookman (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
herr_bookman) wrote2013-03-26 12:38 am
herr_bookman) wrote2013-03-26 12:38 am
Entry tags:
OOM: Everything will always be all right
"I swear, I've passed this fountain thrice already," Autor mutters, wrinkling his nose at his map of Vane, one of Lunar's capital cities.
Mia had told him to go browse for flying carpets on his day off, so here he is, wandering around downtown and losing hope in finding the store he had set out to find. He sees groomed courtyards, crowded marketplaces, and a particularly gorgeous fresco of Althena, the local goddess, but nothing to do with airborne rugs.
Autor frowns. All of this walking around is exacerbating the pinches in his legs, sore from a new morning run routine. Needless to say, the kid is stumped and irascible--something he's thinking about working out on the stupid fountain which he has now passed for the fourth time.
Mia had told him to go browse for flying carpets on his day off, so here he is, wandering around downtown and losing hope in finding the store he had set out to find. He sees groomed courtyards, crowded marketplaces, and a particularly gorgeous fresco of Althena, the local goddess, but nothing to do with airborne rugs.
Autor frowns. All of this walking around is exacerbating the pinches in his legs, sore from a new morning run routine. Needless to say, the kid is stumped and irascible--something he's thinking about working out on the stupid fountain which he has now passed for the fourth time.
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Well, the pity is enraging. But at least Rabastan seems to be back to his normal nagging self. Small comforts.
"I am not blaming Elea for our situation," he says patiently. Or as patiently as he can be, anyway. "But I am calling her out for trying to force the issue when she doesn't even know me, or my relation to you. If I had said, 'any friendship between us will take considerable work and can't happen immediately, please back off,' you would have poked holes in that, too."
Then he slaps some silver on the table. More than enough to cover his share, with tip. "I will not allow her to cover my dinner, either," he says, wrinkling his nose, as if the very idea is abhorrent.
"And yes, I am very annoyed with you for thinking... whatever you did about me and her. If she's as wonderful as you tell me she is--and I believe you, especially now that I've met her--then you need to have a little faith in her. I smiled to provoke you, but not like that," he says, and draws a breath before continuing. "But thank you, for acknowledging all of that, and I'm sorry for the way it set you off."
He sighs and pokes at his food. "If you really wanted to be friends, why didn't you seek me out on your own initiative? You were nearly laconic when she was around; is my impression that you yourself were uncomfortable speaking an incorrect one?" he asks, and sets his jaw.
Now it's his turn to look disappointed, though he doesn't know it. "I don't know anything about friendship. Hardly anything at all. But 'I don't have many' and 'because I have to talk to you' don't sound like the foundations for a lasting relationship."
The boy clenches his fists and glares at the man. "You are such a simpleton, Rabastan Lestrange. If you weren't my friend, I wouldn't have pranked you."
All that said, he takes an angry first bite of his food. He has been curious about these truffles all evening.
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He sighs.
"Well, like I said: she won't try that again, so you can stop being annoyed over it."
Picks at his own food.
"And apology accepted. But. Tell me Autor. You've been poking about the history books haven't you. You tell me why someone like myself should worry about losing someone special. If my faith in her isn't as strong as it should be, then why would it be so?"
It's not being consumed at the moment.
"Autor, you happened upon me that first time. Not the other way around. So I can't really answer you as to why I didn't, other than to say that it's probably for the same reason I don't seek others out, and I'm sure those history books you've read have an answer for that too.
"But this isn't a case of 'have to'. I don't 'have to' here. Because there is no 'have to'. This is 'I want to'. I want to talk to you. I want to be friends with you. I want to know that you can trust me and that I can trust you.
"As for pranks, well. Elea teases me. A lot. So do her friends. But they don't dump a bucket of ice cubes on me when I'm sleeping, and I am very sorry for what I did to you in retaliation. You could've been hurt badly. I have magic. You don't. Defending yourself against a magic-user is almost impossible even if you've memorised all the spells he can do.
"And I don't know why you didn't go to security or Mia about it when you could have. You've got good reason to."
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He's not going to be able to finish them tonight. "Perhaps I misjudged that. Eat your damn food. Elea paid for it already; you better not let it go to waste."
Autor looks away and cups his chin in his hand, thinking. He sits, motionless, for a long, long while.
Eventually, he swings his heavy head around to stare at Rabastan again. "Yes. I know everything," he says softly, "both from reading the books and speaking to you in person."
Then he glances away. "And I haven't gone to Mia because you were just as frightened as I was, and I figured we'd settle it all eventually. Or not; sometimes being enemies is easier than being friends."
Autor stares at his hands. "Why do you want to talk to me? To trust me? Haven't I already proven that I'm not worth the effort?"
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He seems to be laughing, but silently.
"It was important to me, and contrary to what you might think, you are worth the effort. No matter what you might say or think, you are always worth the effort.
"You're not a bad person. Not really. Maybe you don't always know how to be a good person, but I think you are. I know bad people. I've known bad people. You're not like them.
"And I was scared, yes. But. Autor. Milliways is supposed to be a safe place for everyone. And for many years it was my sanctuary before I came here. You should never be given a reason to think or believe that you're never safe there. Not by anyone. By the people you don't know, or the people you do.
"Don't ever let 'we'll work it out' be the reason not to act."
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"My word," the boy says, nearly trembling with fury. He shakes his head and clutches his fork. "I knew you were sentimental, but not this much! Just... just go stuff yourself, would you? And for pity's sake, don't you dare tell me when I can and cannot act!"
He shovels another bite of food in his mouth. Damn, but these truffles are delicious.
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"I'm not telling I'm advising. Take it as you will. You always do."
Pause.
"I am glad we're talking again though, whatever you might make of that too."
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"Tch," Autor says. "We've used too many words in this conversation already. Eat your food; as long as your mouth is full, you won't be speaking."
It's only after he says the words does he feel a pang of regret: Lohengrin had said the same to Autor, so very long ago. Specifically after Autor had congratulated the Knight on his wedding.
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He is Highly Amused.
"I guess you, as a bibliophile, would know things like this." Pause. "What do you think of them? Your truffles?"
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Thanks for suddenly reminding him of how tired he is, Rabastan. Gosh.
At the otter-man's inquiry into the quality of Autor's food, the boy smiles. Its wistful, almost fond. "They're better than I thought they'd be," he says shyly, thinking of bakers that rise with the sun and magical princesses on a hunt.
Then he snaps to focus. "I'd ask you how your food is, but you haven't eaten any of it."
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No, he doesn't believe you. Not really.
"And when did you start caring that I eat anything? No, don't tell me I'm 'wasting food'. It's a little more than just simple waste."
Has Autor started to give a damn?
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He scribbles down a quick, "I apologize," on a napkin and passes it over. "Here. This should help with whatever explanation you have to give to Elea."
Now to flag down a waiter and ask for a box...
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"I'll make sure she gets this."
I don't think she'll be angry with you, but I do think she will be disappointed.
"You know, you can visit me while you're staying here. The house won't be hard to find."
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"Maybe," he says, standing. And now he dithers for a bit, plucking at his sleeve. He doesn't do goodbyes. But is one needed in this case? What on moon do I say?
Eventually, he settles for a firm nod. "Rabastan."
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"That's the name my parents gave me, yes."
He fishes out his wallet where the picture of his home is kept. And shows it to Autor.
People today would recognise it as a replica of the famous "Falling Water" home, but Rabastan has no idea of how well-known it is. He picked it out because he liked it.
"Stop by whenever you wish. I don't have much in terms of books, but there might be something for you to read while you're there."
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He glances over the picture of Rabastan's home and raises a brow. "Hm. That's rather impressive," he says, clearly wondering whether or not the home market in Vane is deflated, and what Rabastan's finances are like, given that he needed a job, and...
"You'd better get some more books," he says, and pops his little nose in the air. "Those are good for you."
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The house was a gift. If you stop by, he'll tell you that. As part of the tour.
"How about you bring some with you when you decide to visit? It'll have the added benefit of being something you'll want to read while you're there."
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Then he draws back, shedding his cocky demeanor like a second skin. "Elea is in town. I assume shell be at the house? Which is fine, obviously, it's your house, but I wouldn't want her to--well, for me to chase her off again."
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He slips his wand out, so that he can warm his food up. Then finally sets to eating.
If he's eating, his moods must've recovered.
"She's staying at my house for a few days." Pause. "Don't worry; she's the forgiving type. Once she's been given your message I'm sure you'll be back in her good graces again."
Here he's eating as if his moods never went south.
"I think she likes you. Not as much as me—obviously, but she likes you. And she wouldn't try to help us patch things up if she didn't like either of us."
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Ah, he's eating. Good.
He snorts at Rabastan's assurances about Elea. "She doesn't need to forgive me. It's not like I need to be liked." Especially if it means it raises the likelihood of our being 'helped' again.
The boy tips his head. "I'm working at the library with Majesty Lemia Ausa, and you're at the carpet shop here, so now we know how to find each other should such be necessary." He's not quite sure how he feels about that yet.
"Small moon, isn't it? Um. Have a nice dinner," he says, and saunters off before he chews on his toes anymore.
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Damn.
He resumes his dinner, thinking of just what he's going to say to Elea.
It's possible he might have downplayed her reaction a bit...