Closed Tread Softly

[Fia Eaven]

She had drawn herself onto the foot of the bed, the blanket making an awkward cape around her shoulders. Her stockings showed from under her skirt, their bright green only discernible to Laszlo. It had become a newly favored color of late. When Laszlo asked if she was still leaving, Fia showed a subdued smile and nodded. "Even if that room nigh the forge don't suit. I'll find another." She tugged on her left stocking idly then started picking lint off the covers. "This was 'sposed to be temporary. I ought to start settling somewhere." Running home to Denval when she hankered for something sturdy wasn't an option anymore. New roots had to grow. Looking up from the bed she wavered but held Laszlo's face. It was awful for different reasons now. "I was waiting for you not so I could ask more o' your hospitality, but because me Da said 'never go to bed angry'." Her smile was without edge, nearer to the private language of someone recalling an old, shared jest. "And methinks I saw some temper about you." Proving herself more resilient to anger than one might suspect, she showed her thumb and forefinger almost pinched together. "Just a smidge, though." The demonstrating hand lowered. "Hoped to make right enough. Imagine parting so?" Her knees were bundled to her chest, and her chin set on them. "I'd regret it me whole life." The confession could not be said while she looked at him, so the blanket bore her admittance. Fia exhaled with shades of relief. "I'm glad you're not still mad. Wish you weren't hurt otherwise though… First spat 'tis always the worst. Never know how a person'll be after, or during for that matter. Don't think me odd, but I'm glad something can upset you." She smiled at him, knowing her next words were all wrong. "Makes you human." After pushing her slipping braid back over her shoulder, she went on. "I only met an Ethaefal once before and it was right quick. Don't know what to expect from a creature so different." The word "creature" might have surprised Laszlo with its sense of separation, like he was a rare Velispar. It had slipped out while the guard to Fia's mouth was turned away. Fatigue made her careless. Just because he knew what to expect from himself everyday didn't mean anyone else had the slightest understanding of an uncommon being that dropped from the mute sky.

[Laszlo]

The more Fia talked about her grandfather, the more saddened Laszlo became with the knowledge that he was dead. She painted him as such a warm figure. A caring, guiding light. Trying to consider Fia's grief over his loss was unfathomable. Laszlo watched her quietly, a sympathetic curiosity in his marred features. He looked at her with the same patient fascination as he would a page in a book. Drawn by the vivid color, Laszlo found himself staring at Fia's stockings—not in any lewd way. At least he didn't think he was being impolite. She seemed so fond of brighter hues, and wore them well. Seated at the end of his bed, illuminated by candlelight, and wearing her blanket as a shawl, she was lovely in a quaintly modest way. At the mention of his temper, Laszlo looked down. But Fia softened the blow and brought a feeble smile out of him. His anger did get the better of him, occasionally. It came in flashes, like a brilliant burst of flame, blinding him reason and inhibition. It was a problem, and he knew it. "Creature". The word suited him, he supposed, but it was odd coming from someone familiar. Being called human wasn't quite as bizarre as she might have thought. Abalia had done the same, comparing the words "mortal" and "human" as if they meant the same thing. Perhaps, to Fia, they did. It was easy to forget that theirs was an old race, and they had owned the world long before Ethaefal ever took flesh and stepped foot on it. "Perhaps this will disappoint you, but I don't feel all that different." Laszlo took a long draught of tea, letting the drink warm him. It was slowly beginning to fight off the chill that had been sitting with him since the rain had caught him much earlier. He felt his Symenestra form had a better appreciation for tea, as this was the shape that felt bells passing, hunger growing, thirst itching. Still, even if he looked it now, he wasn't mortal. He'd never age, grow sick, or become plagued by the daily aches that mortals learned to endure. In many ways, he did feel different, but beyond the physical, there was no longer any sense of divine superiority in him. He bled and stumbled like anyone else. "I make mistakes in droves. Every day I meet mortals far wiser than I am. And I become wretched when angry. I'm sorry about that." Laszlo looked down, playing a claw against the handle of his teacup. "It wasn't about the shirt of course, just… I'm still not at peace with what happened to Abalia." His eyes flitted back up, accompanied by a dry, inadequate half-smile. "That was her name." He sighed, turning his attention to the candle. "It hurts me more than these injuries, and more than your apprehension about my claws. I was just frustrated, and I was saying whatever came to mind." A smile broke into his face, and he huffed briefly with nostalgic laughter. "You should have heard what I said to Abalia's caretaker when he was initially difficult." Already, his features lost some of their light. "He always knew she was doomed. In the end he only agreed to help, I think, because it would help me to think that I tried." The child was also a significant part of it, but naturally Laszlo left that out. He swallowed. "After she died, he went back home. My apartment went from three occupants to one. The silence is maddening." As long as Laszlo spoke softly, the stabbing ache in his chest was manageable. Fia had encouraged a bit of life in him though, and in spots he even sounded spirited. His injuries however reminded him to keep himself restrained. With his lips parted, he cycled through a few shallow breaths, taming the pain in his ribs. One last sip of tea primed him for another round of speech. "If you're in a hurry to leave, I won't stop you. Probably can't, in this state." Laszlo smirked in spite of himself. "But it's been a delight having you here, and not just to fill empty spaces. You've come to mean something to me as well." A similar modesty kept Laszlo from being able to say as much while holding eye contact. He was looking down at his nearly empty cup. "If it isn't too much trouble, I would like it if you withstood my hospitality a little longer. Winter is a terrible time to be moving around." It would only get worse as the year passed deeper into the season. "Or at least until I can stand upright without wincing. You've made a brilliant nurse so far." A familiar light reentered his features. "And yes, that is a blatant attempt to appeal to your pity for my own gain."

[Fia Eaven]

While Laszlo unfurled more of himself, Fia was kept quiet by the weight of her interest. Despite her varied difficulties, some divinity had been kind to Fia. When fashioning her soul, the deity granted her the ability to fall wholly into another without dropping the tether to her own principles. Listening absorbed her as much as any active task, though it was practiced with gentleness more than prodding curiosity. When she heard, she felt. This power could have made her turn from others, fearing all they would dredge her through. Instead, she had learned to let the joys smooth the sorrows, so her heart walked an even road. Laszlo had rolled the conversation toward her. It rested at her feet, before drawing a meek smile. "Brilliant? I've made tea and taken off boots," her smile slipped into a low amused laugh, a good but increasingly foreign sound for the house. "You're dreadful. You know. Taking advantage of me soft little heart… If'n, I say 'no' I might have to worry about offending your bright lady love too." She pulled at the blanket again, making small peaks of fabric as she considered the future. "Don't fancy a fight with a goddess." Fia tilted her head as she looked at Laszlo again, some gravity tempering her features. "Are you sure you don't want to sleep on it? I'll be true, I'd like something to feel steady again. Been too long at sea, so I don’t want to lean on a decision made because we're a bit low and tired." The matter was softly taken from Laszlo's hands and set between them. "I won't leave in the morning, but don't ask me to stay again 'til that shiner turns a better color. Fair enough?"

[Laszlo]

"More than I would have done." Laszlo smiled into his tea as Fia went on, ignoring the way it made his jaw twinge. Admittedly, she had a point. It would have been better to sleep on it and let the idea of a longer stay sink in. He had put very little thought into asking her to stay again, but he'd spent all evening thinking about her leaving. The idea hadn't bothered him until it became imminent. Her final request made him look up from his drink. "Hm." After appearing to consider it, he slowly began to nod his agreement. When he opened his mouth to speak, he was vaguely smirking. "Fair enough." Self-conscious, Laszlo felt at his right eye with his clawed fingertips. Usually he never had to worry about how he looked. He had made a truce with his Symenestra half, but a swollen eye was never pleasant to look at. Sighing, Laszlo set his cup on his bed side table, then rested his head back in his hand. Fatigue was clawing at him, allying itself with the ache in his head and urging him to close his eyes. It wasn't the first time he'd been badly hurt. He'd been sliced open, strangled, bones broken, fallen—twice. Was this every mortal's existence? It was a wonder how they survived. Laszlo wasn't sure he'd still be breathing if he wasn't given a bit of Syna's grace. Laszlo lowered his and lifted his eyes back to Fia. "You shouldn't worry about me. I've been through worse. A lot of people have really not liked me. And I'm clumsy." A thought of Abalia sprang to mind, souring his expression. He swallowed. "Last time I hit my head like this, a medic told me to stay awake. I'm not sure for how long, but I'm not sure I have the fortitude. Today has been exhausting in a number of ways." Fia had never answered him about Denval. Perhaps that had been intentional. If asked to speak of the Ukalas, Laszlo would be as saddened as he was without answers. Stupid of him to ever ask. "Tell me something of yourself." Better to let her choose her own topics. "Everything I know about you is terribly sad. Even I have some glad memories. You have yours, I'd wager."

[Fia Eaven]

"More glad than not," Fia answered with a shade of a smile. "I'm not used to being seen as sad, to be true. Most me life has been plain and me happinesses common stuff." Fia shifted the blanket and stretched out on the bed. Her elbow and side were on the pallet as she supported her head with her curled legs tucked under the blanket. "I wish I had a better story to tell… I was raised by me grandfather, Da. He had all boys, so I was a novelty to him." She began to leave that subject behind when she felt her chest begin to hollow. Grief was a quiet pool for a time and she sought to not stir it. "I grew up in the forge. Me Aunts meddled enough, bless them, to keep me from being lost to the world of womanly things. I liked being the lady o' the house… We lived near the docks. Denval doesn't have a coast proper. It's water full of teeth. Rocks jutting everywhere. Kept most people from coming ashore, but Lud we went mad when we thought someone might take harbor. Denval was a lonely place. Natives all human." It explained some of her captivation with the world at large. She had not grown blind to miracles and wonders from constant handling. "When we suspected a boat would dock, we'd send music and dancers on the barges to greet them. " Fia thought of the bright vessels, painted the color of birds. "I'd no talent for song or instrument, but I'd sneak aboard as a girl and try to join the dancers. Most days they just gave me something bright to wave." She laughed at herself: the child so determined to dance and so ill-suited to. "'Can't get her off!' they figured, 'might as well keep her busy'. And so I began a small hobby. An Aunt gave me a stick with a swath of orange silk and you'd think it had been a net of pearls the way I swooned. Every holiday after my kin teased and said they would only gift me sticks with ribbons." Fia's blinks became longer, and her words made round and airy with yawns. "Couldn't keep that up for long… got to an age where I ought to have had some sort of skill. You pass a point… not wee and cute, but not old enough to be a woman full. I had a lovely forge for that season and a friend who'd read to me. Read and tell me stories that would make anyone sensible groan. They were me only indulgence. Me Da fled the room when she wielded them. Tales girls love. Full of pretty impossible things and someone handsome dying to rescue common but kind girls from their dull, sensible lives. First time I heard about an Ethaefal…" A yawn distorted a portion, "…she got it all wrong." Her head was drifting nearer the bed, "'Twas happy. Happier than any have right to be." Fia proved useless as a sentinel, slumber sealing her eyes. She stirred a little and murmured soft unintelligible things that felt like bird down in the ear. Before the next bell, she was a quietly breathing mound overtaking the foot of the bed.

[Laszlo]

It felt like it had been a long time since Laszlo had listened. Fia laid out idyllic pieces her life in the dim candelight, filling the room with people and places fondly remembered. Laszlo was quiet, watching her with curious violet eyes at first, until he aimed them downward at the bed covers as he tried to imagine some of the things she described. He could almost see the Denvali coast, treacherous and jagged, and the clamor of the townsfolk when they saw sails on the horizon. Laszlo was honestly captivated. He had never heard anyone's experiences played out in such a way, and Fia's was especially surprising. She was always a timid creature, struggling under the weight of her tragedies, putting on a strong face and battling her fears with principle. A survivor, if a meek one. A Denvali trait, Laszlo was coming to learn. But perhaps she was built of studier stuff than he realized. A past grew behind her, filled with more than lost loved ones and a destroyed city. There was a life there, some-twenty years of it. She wasn't the spirited blacksmith, or a lost traveler without a home, or a broken thing afraid of teeth and claws. Fia became a girl, wanting to join the dancers, listening to stories, honing her skills at a small forge, ruling the house with her grandfather. Until now it had been hard to see beyond what sat in front of him. Well, more lying down now. Fia's yawns were infectious, though Laszlo had to stifle his to avoid upsetting his bruised jaw. He wore a placid smile, watching her drift off. It would have been proper to wake her, but he was glad for the company and her concern. It felt like a privilege to cause someone worry. The late bell lulled Fia away, and Laszlo wasn't far behind. He rested on the rim of sleep, reawakening a short time later to chill and discomfort. The candle had spent the rest of itself, transforming into a melted drape of wax over the brass candlestick. To his surprise, Fia was still sleeping at his feet as well. He felt himself smile a little more freely. Eventually he found himself under his covers, still leaned against the wall as a compromise for comfort. The chill no longer bothered him, but the pain and discomfort continued, coupled with vivid and disturbing dreams. His rest was fitful and came in fragments. The night passed in sections, and later the dawn changed his form. It was almost an entirely unpleasant night, but every time he looked to see Fia was still there, it eased the ordeal. A bell or two after dawn, and he lost the desire to stay in his bed. The fatigue was there, but true sleep wouldn't come. He'd rather be miserable and awake than miserable and in-between. He gave one last look to Fia. She looked so comfortable. Carefully, Laszlo pulled his legs free from the covers and turned himself to sit on the edge of his bed. His injuries had had time to settle and stiffen, both worse and better than they had been last night. With a steadying hand on the nearby table, Laszlo eased himself onto his feet. Too hasty, he gulped a deeper breath than he meant to and disturbed his ribs. He grunted and swore. Sakana can rot. I'm not leaving the house today.

[Fia Eaven]

“Unghmm?” It might have begun as common in her head, but it lost its shape before it tumbled into her mouth as a pidgin of warm, surprised sounds. Fia pushed herself up from the bed and blinked the room into perfect focus. Her arms stretched skyward briefly and her wrists rolled in a dancer’s flourish. A pink line was on her cheek from where the she lay on the creased cover. She rubbed it with the back of her hand, and hoped it would fade into the quick flush rising on her skin. At least she had thought to braid her hair the night before. What useless company she had been, dwindling after a story or two. No use dawdling. Fia pulled up her stockings and tugged at her wrinkled dress. Though she hadn’t been out of sight since waking, she now felt presentable enough to fully turn her eyes to the Ethaefal who was standing beside the bed she still sad on. A brilliant conversationalist, Fia greeted him with, “By Priskil, you seem even taller in the morning.” Satisfaction made her features warm as a smile. “You seem a mite better.” She stretched her legs to reach the floor. There was a surprising daintiness in the way she pointed her feet before they met the floor and the rest of her followed lightly after. “Sorry for making a lump on your bed. You should have woken me and shooed me to me own room.” Her next destination was the bedside table, where she gathered up the mess from the last night. “Maybe you shouldn’t be up and about much. Does sunshine do you good? I’ll open the windows in the front room and we can set you up there instead of cooped up in here.” Curious, but not wanting to get too close before she had washed, she tried to get a glimpse of the Ethaefal’s face to gauge how the night had treated them.

[Laszlo]

"That would be nice, thank you." He might even sit outside for a while if the weather permitted. Lhavit in winter seemed to prefer a mix of rain and snow, often at the same time. Perhaps Syna would be kind today and part the clouds for a while. "And don't worry about staying. I appreciated the vigil." The light filled this room enough through the curtains, catching Laszlo in narrow, stray beams. He wore horns again, instead of claws. His brunet hair was yet untied. Protective of his dignity, Laszlo straightened and stood properly, releasing the table table for balance. He took a few knocks, that was all; he wasn't crippled. Poor Fia would have to cope with the height difference. Kept in his thoughts, he watched her gather up the items from his table. Fleetingly he thought of stopping her and picking them up himself, but remembered that she wanted to feel useful. Having once been in her place, he allowed her that small consolation. It was harrowing to feel helpless. After she had begun to peer at his features, the Ethaefal tilted his head slightly to the side. The note of seriousness in her eyes gave him a dose of guilt. Laszlo didn't care for being the helpless one either. He tried to ease the air. "Trying to see how long you have to stay?" He gave a tired half-smile. A shadow sat even under his good eye, making it clear he hadn't slept well. The other was still bordered in blue and purple. "I'm fine, honestly. Here. I'll show you a trick I can do. Gift from Syna." One hand rose up to move some hair out of Laszlo's face, threading it under his horn and behind on ear. Gingerly he traced his fingers over his bruised eye, stifling the urge to wince. Immediately, the traces of violet faded, leaving only the grayish blue. The color above his eyelid improved slightly, although below it was still black as the sea. Not able to see it himself, Laszlo could only gauge the effect from Fia's reaction. "Not a perfect cure, but faster than letting it heal on its own." He smirked, failing to keep himself from looking smug. "I give it less than week before it's gone."

[Fia Eaven]

“Why you cheat!” Fia’s eyes marveled and her mouth laughed, as Laszlo seemingly healed his bruise a fraction. Mild triumph was on his face, as if he’d considered this from the moment she told him to take his time in deciding whether or not she’d be staying. “What’s that you did! How’s it work?” She hastily amended, “Not that I’m not glad you can patch yourself a bit.” Standing in the doorframe with cups and candle, she did a poor job of restraining amused smiles. “We’ll be having that talk sooner than I ‘spected.” Her blood quickened as she recalled that she was due to the forge in under a bell. “Ah me!” the objects in her hand rattled as she started, “You’ll have to tell me later. I’ve got to wash up and run to the forge. I never sleep this late! Me own schedule mixing with the Lhavitian clock is a terror.” Fia was half in the other room before doubling back to add, “I’ll start tea for you and fetch snow for whatever aches!” Good to her word, the hearth was brought to life, a kettle was started, a bucket of snow was on the doorstep and the curtains were drawn from the windows. It was a hasty preparation for the room, accomplished with her in various states of readiness. When she made for the door, her stockings were mismatched shades of blue, but she was too bundled to bother. “I’ll be back before the noon rest to check on you.” Her hand was on the handle when she twisted to add, “Try to not pick any fights in the meanwhile.”