herr_bookman | OOM: Everything will always be all right

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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.

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Autor glumly shoves his hands in his pockets, crackling another warmer. He gestures for Elea to take the lead, intending to remain silent on their trip to the restaurant.

He's going to avoid looking at Rabastan at all.

Said restaurant, as it happens, is not too far from the shop where Gideon sells his carpets.

There won't be too much walking, although there is yet another bookseller on the route.

Once there, Elea decides to open the door for Rabastan and Autor to enter before following in.

It's a somewhat dimly lit interior, the way you'd imagine upscale restaurants to be, even if this place is not quite as fancy.

Autor doesn't even notice the bookseller. At least not consciously.

Elea choosing to open the door irks him a bit, but she is a strange woman from a strange world--and it would probably be a terrible idea to call her out on anything at the moment.

The kid settles himself in a booth and picks up a menu, pretending to scan it. Eventually, he sets it down. "Well?" he asks the couple again. Oddly enough, he still doesn't care much who answers.

Door opening is something Elea is egalitarian on. If you see someone coming in or going out of the same place as you, you hold the door for them.

I guess it's different in Autor's [magically tampered with] time and place.

Settling into a chair between Autor and Rabastan she examines her own menu.

And points out to Autor which of the items on it are probably not going to be very pleasant if he finds giga ant eggs disgusting.

Autor orders something with truffles--half the menu has them--because he has been curious about them since he and Sunshine spoke. He takes a sip of his water glass and then sets it down quietly.

Very quietly.

"All right," he says to Elea, softly but clearly irritated, "You wanted us to talk?"

Or something. Is this as surreal for me as it is for you, Rabastan?

Edited 2013-03-28 06:28 (UTC)

"Yes, I believe I do."

She runs her finger down the menu, examining the options before making her own choice. Rabastan is given a little more time to make his.

"You two clearly have something between you that's causing you to become angry with each other the moment your eyes meet. Now, I'm not sure I want to know the gorier details, but whatever it is that's causing you to bash heads, it needs to be settled, so that the two of you can begin to get along then."

Hey. She has no knowledge of those two being disagreeable on a regular basis. Only that they are being so now.

"Rabastan? I think you should start?"

He's silent for several minutes while he cogitates.

Then, quietly, "I am sorry, Autor. I ... overreacted that time."

The pronouncement startles Autor so much, he nearly spills his drink.

"Yes," he responds, just as quietly. He stares at his hands. "You did."

So, now what do I say? 'You're absolved; all is well, go live with your girlfriend cum mediator?'

He sighs. I wonder if the person being apologized to has some responsibility to accept amends as well. It's almost like Lohengrin is laughing at him. "Still, I provoked you."

"I don't think you meant to, did you?" he offers. "You wouldn't know that I would feel like I was being attacked when you pranked me, did you?"

Being attacked? Elea has a dim idea about Rabastan's past, at least in terms of his family. What little she's been given suggests that there was a lot of unhappiness for him.

He speaks well of his parents, but try to ask about Rodolphus and he shuts up tight, hoping you'll change the subject.

"No," he says, tracing the rim of his glass. "Not then. But I should have been able to guess, had I thought about it."

Autor lifts his gaze to Rabastan, and rather than his usually cool and patronizing stare, his eyes are heated and piercing. A lance tempered in flames. After this, the tightness in his jaw says, we really do need to talk.

The boy hasn't forgotten about Elea sitting there, watching them. He wishes he could.

Edited 2013-03-28 07:44 (UTC)

Rabastan catches—or thinks he does—the unspoken portion of what Autor says.

Has Autor been delving into magical history? What does he know? How far back has he gone? How recent are the books discussing it?

...what has Autor read about me...?

Fear claws at his chest. If Autor knows...

Oh God. What is he to do if Autor knows?

Even Elea doesn't know—the subject was never raised, and he's afraid of what she'd think of him if he did tell her.

"You ... probably could..."

Edited 2013-03-28 07:53 (UTC)

Right, and now Autor has all the power in the room again. Oddly enough, he's not sure he likes that. Rabastan is as pale as milk and that's just irritating.

And now Autor's irritated because he's irritated! Gah!

If he cries again, then so help me... Autor huffs and folds his arms. This whole situation is ridiculous.

"Well?" he turns to Elea. "We've spoken."

Are you happy with your meddling? I could have taken Rabastan's past with me to my grave.

He's not going to dwell on how it was him who'd indirectly brought it up.

"If that is all it was about." Pause. "It is all that it's about, isn't it?"

She gives them both a look that says they can take it somewhere after dinner if they need more privacy than this.

"Well. Maybe."

And Autor nearly cradles his head in his hands.

Oh, for goodness' sake! the boy thinks, more than a little exasperated. I know she's your lover, but do you really have to tell her everything?

"We'll manage," he says diplomatically, trying to salvage the situation. "We can decide what do to later."

And oh, look, the food is here. Small miracles.

Edited 2013-03-28 08:51 (UTC)

You have a lot to learn about relationships, don't you Autor? No, he doesn't have to tell her everything, but there are things that do need full disclosure.

Relationships are built on trust. If you can't trust someone enough to tell them things about you, then what do you have?

At least now things between them are beginning to heal. A little.

"I'm glad to hear that. You know, he doesn't have that many friends here in Vane, and I wish he did. He's a good man, if a bit isolated. It would be nice if you and Rabastan did become good friends."

Autor bristles at that. What will her next oh-so-reasonable suggestion be? Flay myself with a potato peeler? Go skinny-dipping in magma? Go kiss--

And then he chokes, of course.

When he recovers, he glances at Rabastan, to make sure he's still present. "I think he might want to speak for himself on that," he says, poking at his food.

"Are you fine?" she asks Autor, obviously not privy to his inner musings. "Bad food?"

Then,

"Do you want to be friends with him, love?"

"I. Um. Well. Er," is his eloquent reply. "It ... might not be so bad. But. I don't know if he even wants friends at all, much less to be mine."

"No," he says, and sips his water. "It's..."

Well, Elea, he can't really tell you. True to form, he hasn't eaten any of it.

Upon hearing Rabastan's reply, though, Autor chalks this up as one of the most awkward conversations he's ever had in his life. It might even surpass the first chat he had with Karkat, or even the most recent one with Loheng--no. That was worth squirming over, but because it was also painful, too.

He has to take a sip of water at that. Eventually, he regards Elea with raised brows. Augh! She's like a kindergarten teacher!

Then he turns to the man of the hour. "Honestly, Rabastan, I don't recognize you at all. Does the climate of Vane disagree with you? It seems to have reduced your spine to jelly and render you incapable of answering a simple yes or no question."

Autor's getting seriously tired of everyone addressing everyone else in the third person. He's a music student, not a dancer.

Oh like you're one to talk when it comes to evasive answers to direct questions Autor.

Nor are you offering your own input on being anyone's friend here.

Rabastan looks like he might rise to the bait, but stops.

And begins poking his own food. He's really not in the mood for bantering right now.

I guess he doesn't want me for a friend after all.

That observation would've been a relief a month ago, but not now.

Edited 2013-03-28 10:28 (UTC)

Rather than poking his own food in response, Autor pokes the man.

"What happened?" he asks, gently jabbing him in the arm with the fork tines. "All the fire has gone out of you."

Autor doesn't know quite why Rabastan has gone comatose, but he has a theory. And like all his theories, he wishes to test it immediately.

He flicks a glance over to Elea, the unwitting catalyst to all of this. "You're very forward, aren't you? One hour ago you didn't know my name or anything about me, and now you're trying to get us to absolve each other of grievances which you have no understanding of, and get us to profess friendship, besides!" he huffs. Then he folds his arms, slouching. "If you're not aware of the fact that I'll bring more trouble to him than I'm worth, then I don't know what to do with you."

Not like he had an idea in the first place.

"I care about him and want the best for him, that's why.

"And I was hoping you two would solve it, but it appears that whatever is between you, it's more than just a simple prank gone wrong. Especially since you're so insistent upon provoking him into further bad behaviour."

Pause. She feels Autor is being rude and unnecessarily belligerent. To both of them.

And waves over their waiter.

"How much?"

She gives him the money when he tells her.

"Since you don't seem too keen on my company Autor I'll take my leave here, and you two can deal with it by yourselves in my absence."

Autor opens his mouth to reply, but claps it shut when she calls over the waiter. He didn't intend to have her pay for his share of the food; now he owes her a debt--for dragging him out here in the first place. Confound that woman.

He swings his gaze over to Rabastan. "She treats you gently and annoys me. I can see why you like her."

The boy frowns. "But you're afraid to say anything around her, and your reaction to her leaving--and my poking at her--is delayed. What happened to you?" Autor asks again, quieter this time.

"I'm not afraid to say things to her. If there's one thing we're not short on it's conversation."

He scrubs his face with his hands.

"Why did you do that? Elea was being nice to you. Thought only of what you might have needed. Asked for nothing from you in return. A person who was likely a stranger to you until today. And you all but slap her in the face for it.

"Why do you have to be so cruel to people? Do you never stop to think of how it might be taken, or how it can go wrong when you do act like this?

"Did it ever occur to you that if you changed your approach to people, they'd be nice back? Now I have to explain things to her, and I know she'll want one when I see her later tonight."

Edited 2013-03-28 11:17 (UTC)

Do you never stop to think of how it might be taken, or how it can go wrong when you do act like this?

Autor sucks a breath in through his teeth. Panic wraps its spiked tendrils around his heart, but then he leans back and closes his eyes, recovering the detached veneer he always has.

"She is nice to me," he says, lacing his fingers together across his chest. "Very nice. But there's a problem with nice people, and that's when they decide that they have a hammer and you're a bent nail. 'I can solve that problem,' they say. 'I have a hammer!'"

He shakes his head, and opens his eyes. "And I'm sure she's very good at being nice, and wielding her hammers. But there are some of us who prefer to remain as we are."

He twists his lips. "I would have left you alone in that shop. Maybe bantered a bit, and left, but here we are now, at dinner, dancing around the topic of are we friends or are we enemies."

Then, after a moment: "Congratulations on your new job."

He does sound like he means that.

"Elea would have left things as they are between us were it not for your smile and my upset.

"But you did smile and I did get upset. And if she thinks it's because of her, she's going to want to become involved, to put an end to it."

He sighs.

"Well. She's learned her lesson about being nice to people like you. I doubt you'll get another chance from her without you giving her an apology for your behaviour first. And even then I doubt she'll try it again."

Yes, she'll be nice. But it will not be the nice she was before.

"Thank you." Pause. "Autor, I would like to be your friend. Elea's right. I don't have many here. Or at Milliways, to be honest. But given the way you launch into your usual mode of communication with me I can't tell if you're just being friendly in your own fashion, or if you're antagonising me because you really do derive a sick sense of satisfaction from making me angry."

"Did you really think I'd react to her meddling in any other way than I did? I'm not very kind to people," and here he pauses to look away and cup his chin in his hand, "who think they know what's best for me and act on it immediately under the guise of helpfulness."

Staring at the wall, the boy dithers for a moment. "She was acting in your best interests, not mine, which makes sense. But if that's the case, I wish she would have left me out of it to begin with. I'm not sorry she's gone, necessarily. But I am sorry for the manner in which she left, and how it seems to have twisted you up some."

At Rabastan's declaration, he sits up ramrod straight. "Wait, really? Why?" he asks, genuinely bewildered and not a little suspicious. "You've already pointed out that I upset you by default. 'I don't have many' is not a good reason to seek a person like me out."

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