exsiliumlogs | beneath the stars came falling on our heads

[ She releases a small chuckle, thinking it flattery as would be expected. But it's rather simple compared to many Tudor feasts, really. This is just a quick snack!

Anne settles back down beside him, and for this time she takes ginger instead of chocolate in the cup. ]

I have come to be fond of coffee; Much more-so than tea. I know not when people started drinking that, and why so many are eager to introduce it to me, but it falls far and leaves me forgetting. These flavors here, they cling to my tongue as sweetly as good poetry.

It's, um. I g-guess-- like a stereotype about England? It's l-like um, the n-- n-national uh, d-drink. ( Quiet, sort of flat, and he's watching how she uses the ginger, copying out of curiousity to see what it'll be like. ) There's um, d-different-- different types of t-tea? And stuff. Lavender and uh, chamomile are g-good if you c-can't sleep. Or um, p-peppermint. It's g-good for when you have a sore stomach, t-too. Ih uh, if you ever-- ever g-get a chance, it's really g-good iced? With um, honey.
( Sheepish, adding a little sugar to his tea. ) Or chai, you might-- m-might like that one. Ginger, and stuff.

( All the while he's been speaking softly, a little unfocused, because it's easier to let his mind settle on anything that isn't Max, any tangent. ) Sorry. I'm-- rambling.

[ Some words she doesn't understand, but the whole of it she does, even through his rambling while she nods and sips her tea. She must chuckle a little at both the comment of it being the 'national drink' and at his apology, only shaking her head and resting a hand to his wrist momentarily in comfort. ]

I can assure you that none in England drink such a thing, but I suppose much changes in the future.

M-much.

( Agreeing, definitely. Oh, although-- ) And uh, you c-can have hot chocolate? With chilli p-powder and cinnamon.

( And then, a quiet huff. Stop talking about food, Casey. )

[ Well it seems to be calming him down...at times. At other times she's not so sure. He's clearly distracted, and no attempts seem to be working for very long.

She lets the silence hang there for a time so that she can enjoy some chocolate with her coffee, before speaking again. She is thinking, fondly, of Thomas Wyatt. ]

It is difficult to unlock a woman's heart... Try as you might, you will never succeed until she gives you the key. Why she may not is not always easy to decipher, for the locks are complex out of necessity.

( He's glad for the silence, and he's glad for her words, as much as they feel like a blow. He sets his coffee back down, as he speaks, because he feels like there's something Anne needs to understand. ) I'm-- I knew I w-was, uh. N-never g-going to unlock.

( A moment skips where he's struggling to find the words, to speak, to do what she says is so simple and so complicated, but the words themselves hurt. ) I'm not-- I'm kn-know I'm um, n-not-- w-what p-people want. ( His breath catches. ) Max should b-be happy.

( She deserves the best, someone who'll make her happy, but that doesn't stop it from hurting, and he hates himself for being so childish. )

[ Anne merely shrugs in turn, like she's been told she shouldn't have too much sugar with her coffee. ]

Whyfor could you not make her happy, or any woman? It is her choice, for certain, what she wants. But you cannot speak for all women, and for all hearts. You can, in fact, speak only for your own.

Many a-woman would be glad for a man to support them, a man with a face that belonged to Adonis for true, one who appreciates both art and food, who shows them how oft he thinks of them, and what he is willing to do for them. Many a-woman would not be lucky enough to receive even that much, so you see you are above what is expected.

( Well. That leaves him stumped. She speaks so many words, such kind words, and he's pressing his hand over his eyes, dragging over his face because he just isn't sure what to do or how to say it. He's no Adonis, he knows that, but he rest he can hope for, he can wish for, even as the desperation in it just makes his chest hurt and his gut twist. )

N-no one should have-- have b-broken things.

( Looking back at Anne, as his breath shudders.) B-being-- thinking of someone is the l-least you should d-do if you love them. You know h-how stupid I am.

( The things he says, the way he gets all wound up. She's been unfortunate enough to be on the receiving end of it, more than once, the painful awkwardness. He's broken, and he has been for a long time, no matter what Morgana says. )

[ Anne is then quick to shake her head, moving to rest her hand over his. ]

You must stop using that word. If I am to teach you anything, it is that some words are daggers, and the worst you might do is turn your own weapons on yourself.

[ Her hand moves to his chest, though it hovers just over. ]

It is not broken yet, much as you might think it, but it will continue to crack and fall to pieces if you make it so. Keep her forever in your prayers, mayhap, but if she is to be free in truth then she must be free from your thoughts.

( For a while, now, it's been that Max was the reason he was keeping himself alive. To protect her, to keep her safe, because she'd given him a purpose, something bigger than just saving one or two people. She's shown him how they could make a real difference to the world. And then he had realized that he has dragged something malignant and awful into her life, and no matter what, he would save her from Asteria. He would kill his sister, to keep her from tearing Max apart. Max would never have wanted him beyond the capacity of Atlas being strong, a hero for her cause, but he himself was hurting her and she'd realized it, then he had no place in her life. And Asteria wasn't here for him to fight. He can't fight, and he can't die, here, and he truly is already broken, he's sure.

For Anne's sake, he nods, as if he could have absorbed that and believe it to be true. Although, very softly, he does manage to speak. ) Sometimes w-we, um. We d-deserve the w-weapons.

( Hoarse, struggling past a dry throat. )

[ She squints further at him. ]

Others will attempt to wield their tongues as blades in your heart true enough, so there is no need to further destroy your own character. Others will see how you hold yourself, and it will only make them more cruel if you show weakness.

( For a long while, there is silence. )
D-do you, um. Think I d-did this to m-myself?

( Destroy himself, made himself so weak and so compromised, such an easy target. It's not angry, not accusatory, just quiet. )

[ Whoa whoa suddenly turned a bomb of a question of her. She is sure to take a drink just as he's asking so that gives her a few precious extra seconds to think. ]

I cannot make any claim on your history or pain, Adonis, but I think that you are much stronger than you allow yourself to be.

( He takes some chocolate, breaking off a piece and nodding as he has a bite.

Sometimes he doesn't know if Anne is genuine, or if she says kind things because of courtesies, because telling someone they're on the verge of collapsing in on themselves, that their foundations are decayed, would hardly be civil. )

You are v-very k-kind, Lady Anne. I appreciate your, um, your g-generosity v-very-- very m-much.

( He can appreciate it and the effort, even if he can't quite believe it. ) I, uh. Yeah.

[ And some, perhaps, is just a collection of pretty words, but Anne is missing out on a grand party for this, so she might as well try to make some progress here. If there is a main reason for her supposed 'kindness', it is out of her own impatience. But the thoughts are, mostly, genuine. He is a catch for those in his same class, that much is truth.

For her, though, he is too low, when it comes to marriage material. Then again, most men here are. Is there even a catch to be had? ]

You must just call me Anne, hm? We are friends. I am not showing you any kindness this night; I fear I have only upset you more. It simply hurts my own heart to see yours in such disarray, and so I wish I could heal it as quickly as an angel might.

Anne.

( Affirming, albeit a little tentatively. He still feels guilty for the part-- but, well. Donny tilts his head, reaching into his bag, rummaging for something. )

C-can I, um. Show you something? It's m-magic but uh, it's safe.

( Rather than just spring it on her, but she's given him an idea. And at least if he's here, and they're friends, he can show her art. )

[ Though she still expects Lady Anne in public...which would be understood in her time. Does he? We'll find out! ]

Magic...

[ Fuck all. Well, Nash uses magic... She really has been forced to tolerate a lot lately. ]

Please, treat this as if it were your own home. Feel free to do as you like.

( He hopes it'll be worth it. Rummaging, he finds his utility belt, drawing out a few pieces of metal, holding them in his palm. As the heat escalates in his skin, flares from his hand, he glances to Anne, reassuring, before he's watching the metal again, melting, pooling in his hand. )

I'm g-grateful. That you um, that you-- that you t-took the t-time.

( Awkward, embarrassed, actually, but he is grateful and he's so poor with words, but he can make metal dance. it rises from the pool in his hand, three ribbons of liquid metal that twist and spiral in the air, catching the light. )

[ Oooh. Now this is more akin to a magic trick, which is more acceptable in her mind somehow. She does after all like having her fortune told for certain things.

This is much prettier to look at than a fortune, though, and is actually metal, as far as she could see. Though hesitant at first, she inches closer to watch, then claps when it glints in the light just so. ]

This is um, h-how I-- m-make stuff? With g-glass or uh-- yeah. Or sculpting, sometimes.

( Commenting, quietly, as the metal dances around itself, until it's a single spinning sphere. Gradually, pieces start to peel away, to shift and change, until it's a blooming rose, still liquid, but holding it's shape. )

M-magic, um. Is w-what let's m-me be stronger. When I'm Atlas.

( An explanation, the reason why he and Atlas are different. )

[ The beauty of it, of witnessing it unfold, is staggering. She has her breath held, both hands clutched together in anticipation. As it hovers there, and he explains, she releases a soft sigh, leaning in once again with one hand dropping to rest between them. She is charmed. ]

Then does that leave me to use mine own magic to make Adonis stronger?

( Slowly, the metal cools, turns solid, and when it's safe to touch he let it come to rest by Anne's hand. His smile is still sad, he can't imagine it being anything else, but Anne did try to help him, and comfort him, and that means a great deal. )

One d-day I'll um, m-make you something that isn't a f-flower. ( He's just not at his most imaginative, right now.

The smile wavers a little. ) M-maybe. Or um, maybe I should j-just be Atlas all the t-time.

( Part a joke, and part a serious suggestion. Maybe he should just stop being anything outside his uniform.)

It is fine! Such wondrous beauty, and all for me.

[ She likes flowers, especially roses! So she isn't complaining. This is the kind of thing she can actually display... Which she does, after fawning over it a moment with her fingertips, leaning over to carefully set it just in the center of the coffee table. She might need to find a velvet cushion for it to make it proper, but for now it is fine enough. ]

Shall I call you Atlas instead, then?

Yep.

( It stings, in a way. In unintentional reminder of the bracelet he made Max, the charms that he'd shown Anne so long ago, and he draws the envelop carrying the bracelet out of his pocket, crumpled and worn through, looking at the bracelet inside before he drops it onto the bag. It was nice, that Anne liked what he made. It sucked that Max had been so sad. That art could make her that sad. )

Only w-with the uniform. ( A little serious. ) W-when I p-picked the name, I um. N-never thought about how Atlas is d-doomed. Atlas and Adonis. G-good work, huh?

[ She leans back from the table, near shoulder to shoulder with him again. No stop moping stop it now. ]

Apparently, I am told that history can be altered. Why not legend?

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