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| Details |
| Author: | Athena |
| Summary: | A week after a perilous succubus summoning, the fallout continues to have consequences for Reniya Hatrim, and unable to let sleeping sea puppies lie, Natalyah forces an intervention with the CAN (Concerned About Reniya). 11,700~ words. Personal plot RP. |
| Rating: | T for Teen |
Arc: The Red String Game
It's been a week since Peril Farrens summoned a succubus either successfully or unsuccessfully, depending on one's viewpoint on managing to manifest an unbound demon into the world. The report in question has left the city, off on some journey, with only notice to his assistant Milo that he will be gone for some weeks. As if this was not bad enough, there has been something off about Reniya Hartrim's behavior at work, enough that there have been warnings of disciplinary behavior soon to come. Maybe it's something in the air, the approach of autumn at last cooling down the city, leading to periodic rains and storms, and the growing longer nights.
For those in the former gremlin house in Old Town, there have been only a few notable changes. Natalyah has made less in the week than she had prior, but she's been spending more time in the Cathedral than before. She's come home more than a few times smelling vaguely of the spicy scented incense some favor in the church, and spending the nights where Lathrik falls asleep immediately after dinner studying from a Tome of the Light late into the night. Tonight, after dinner — which has improved once more into food that isn't just edible, but might actually be approaching tasty — she is humming something new, something that sounds less like a merry tune and more like a very basic rhythmic song.
Lathrik is sitting on the couch with a mana potion, and there is that familiar brooding look on his face that hasn’t been seen in a little while. When he finishes the potion, he throws it violently into the bin and stands up. “I’m going to see to the weeds,” he says. Which is the same thing he said last night, and the night before. There probably aren’t any weeds left in the front planters.
Natalyah flinches with a hitched yelp at the crash of glass into the bin, and her humming halts. "There isn't anything left for you to pull up that shouldn't be there," Natalyah protests. "The prickly plume thistle isn't a weed, except by some imposed guideline." She turns from the counter, eyeing Lathrik over, and picks up her canes to get into his path. "What is going on with you? You've been downright moody the past few days, and if you have that much energy to go out and garden, I can think of a half dozen better ways you could spend it." Her expression is an odd blended mix of concern, lust, and irritation. Speaking of seeing to certain weeds.
There is a moment when Lathrik looks lost, glancing past her at the door like outside is the only place he can breathe. But he can’t weed. There are no weeds.
“Work has been… a bit stressful,” he says, turning around and pacing back to the couch. He is about to grab another mana potion, which, so soon after the first, is a Bad Idea.
Instead of getting a mana potion, he ends up with a handful of Natalyah's hand, her cane clattering to the floor, and the concern evolving into real worry. "You can't have another one so soon. You know what the guidelines say. I'll be getting the stronger ones soon," she says. "What is it that's stressful at work? Is it the people coming after Tabiana again? Deadly cheese competition wars? What?"
Lathrik hesitates, his gaze on her hand. He offers it a gentle squeeze. “There’s… a lad who’s started causing trouble recently,” he says. “One of our own. First he was caught sleeping on duty, and now… he’s started drinking on duty, abandoning his post, showing up late… He’s causing so much extra paperwork, and today he got into a fistfight with a civilian over the way he was looking at the man’s wife. Pennings has nearly had it with him, and it’s… not the way you want to see a lad go.”
"What, this started suddenly? If he was fine before, and then suddenly changed, obviously something happened with him. If it's getting worse, then whatever it is probably is getting worse, too. Have you talked to him about what it is, what's wrong?" Natalyah's compassion shines through the worry she has for this Nameless Guard Lad who she doesn't think she knows. "If not you, what about Reniya? He can probably relate to the lad, at least for what he wishes he could do, or acts like he would do."
“’Talyah, I’ve tried,” Lathrik says, sitting back down on the couch tensely. “He’s been brushing me off, and Elle’s even started to stay in the barracks to keep an eye on him, but he won’t tell us what’s going on. Pennings has been asking me to get the lad under control. He’s experienced, it’d be a shame to lose him.”
Natalyah bends down very, very carefully to pick up her cane, nearly losing her balance, and then pushes over another few steps to sit on the couch next to Lathrik, half curling up onto his side, almost onto his lap. "Well, even if he won't tell you, there has to be something that could — " She halts mid-sentence as her eyes narrow. "Wait. You didn't say what Reniya's tried, or why he wouldn't, and both you and Elle have been working on it. This isn't some lad, you're talking about Reniya, aren't you?" It's almost an accusation now, and she glares at Lathrik. "Why weren't you saying it was him?"
“It’s been a week,” Lathrik says, staring intently at the floor. “Ye said he helped you that night, but when we got outside it was only Risk. You’ve also stopped calling him ‘Ren.’ I didn’t want to push ye into anything you weren’t ready to talk about. He won’t tell me either.”
Natalyah scoffs, and there's a war of residual anger and an upsetting guilt on her face. "You could have just asked. It's not — " She sighs heavily, and curls up harder against Lathrik's side. "I saw him out on his date before I left for home to get the mana potion. I knew he wouldn't have any on him, and I was just going to go home, get the mana potions, and come back. I didn't need any help with that. It was simple, easy plan. Except he must have seen me, and followed me, and like I said. I cut my hand on the glass when I was putting the mana potions in. On the way back, he was there, and stopped me. He noticed that I was hurt, and as I tried to tell him, I was going to where I could get it healed, and you were in possibly real danger of the drain getting so much worse. You were already cold when I left," she says, and there's a defensive fear in her voice still, as her hand runs down his arm in a compulsory touching, checking that he isn't now.
"But rather than let me go, even after I told him it was serious and that I needed to get back to you, he tackled me to the ground, and he got out a rope, to tie me up like I was some sort of animal, to 'calm me down' he said it was. All because he thought I had no choice but to let him treat my hand and go on with Risk, regardless of what I wanted." Even a week later, there is still something about the memory that leaves her twitching, small flinches. "He had no right to do that."
“Light’s bleedin’ Radiance, Ren,” Lathrik mutters, running a palm over his face. He sucks in a breath and lets it out in a sigh, wrapping his arm around her. “I’m sorry, ‘Talyah. He shouldn’t’ve even attempted something like that.”
She calms in his embrace, breathing in the scent of his shirt. It takes her a few moments before she can speak again. "He wasn't — I'll be fair to him, he wasn't entirely wrong. I was panicked, and I wasn't thinking entirely straight, from exhaustion and everything that had happened. I just wanted to get back to you as quickly as I could, and had the plan in my head of how it should go, and I wasn't allowing for the fact that it had already gone wrong and I should adapt. And he wasn't wrong that you wouldn't want me running around with my hand like that, even though I could handle it," she adds. "Which is why I did let him bandage it up and to take the detour to take Risk instead of just running myself. That and I…" She hangs her head shamefully. "I hurt him when I threw him off me. But I healed him back up, which I know doesn't negate the first part, but I won't apologize for defending myself, just that I should have been more in control to not hurt him with it.
"But it was just — it reminded me of how my parents would act sometimes. That it was okay to ignore me, just physically move me or pick me up and put me where they thought was best, because they 'cared,' and it was awful coming from Ren like that, because I didn't think he would." Natalyah sounds more upset about that than anything. "I didn't think it would bother him that much. I don't even know what he would be bothered about from it."
“He wasn’t thinking about you, ‘Talyah,” Lathrik says, and his voice is cold and resigned. “He was thinking about me. He lost track of you somewhere in that, and that’s where he went wrong.” Lathrik stands up and starts towards the shelf where his armor waits. “I’ll handle it.”
Natalyah half moves with him when he stands, as her comfort paladin gets out of reach. W-wait, she wasn't done cuddling. But she has to be now, because he's already moving along. "What does that mean? What sort of 'handling' that requires armor? Because when you say it like that, it sounds like you're planning on doing some weeding that involves a fist fight."
“It may come to that,” Lathrik says, strapping on his armor with a mechanical ease. “Ren broke the law. I’m going to arrest him.”
Natalyah shakes her head, less like a negation, and more like a dog that just got water on her fur. "You're going to — Lathrik, what are you talking about?" She rises to a stand with her canes, crossing the room to move past him to the door as she talks to him. "Believe me, I'm not thrilled with him right now, but it's not like I'm pressing charges against him. Obviously something about it made him feel something, because otherwise he wouldn't have been acting out the way he has been all week, like he's…" She sighs heavily, and leans back against the door. "Like he's asking for someone to punish him. He's your best friend, Lathrik, and you're a paladin besides. You can't let him self-destruct like that."
“I also can’t allow personal relationships to interfere with my duty to uphold the law,” Lathrik says, his expression unbearably neutral. “Reniya attacked you in the street with the threat of bondage. Given his position, that is more than enough reason to set him up in the Stockades. Please step aside.”
Rather than step aside, Natalyah steps towards him, letting herself come against the metal of his breastplate, searching his expression. "Lathrik, why are you doing this?" More than anything, she sounds sad, and there's an uneasy hurt and worrying concern at war on her face. "Who are you doing it for?"
“The Kingdom of —” Lathrik cannot even finish that sentence. His expression cracks, and he’s forced to look away before the glimmer of tears overwhelms his eyes.
Natalyah doesn't waste time on setting her canes neatly to the side, as she throws her arms around him, pressing her cheek against his, nuzzling against him a little more like a wolf than a woman, but the gesture is meant for comfort all the same. "I don't want to see Ren in the Stockades, and I don't want to see what it would do to you to put him there," she tells him. "If that counts for anything."
Lathrik holds onto her, breathing her in like she’s the only air in the room, and it takes some time before he can speak again. “Street laws,” he finally says. “Someone messes with you, you pay ‘em back and call it even. How would ye like to get him back for it?”
"Well, first off, I am not knocking him over and tying him up, because I am certain that he would be far too into it to read it as payback," she says tartly. "In Society laws, it'd be time to start a rumor about him that would blacken his name so his family had to retreat to the seaside for a season, or make him a pariah at dances, or worst thing of all — make him unmarriageable. The horror." She moves a hand to fiddle with one of the buckles of his armor. She doesn't actually really know how to take it off him.
"Normally I don't have any problems thinking of how to get revenge," she admits, that sadness still lingering in her voice. This information is not a surprise, for the fight fire with more, worse fire girl. "But the real problem is that I don't really want to hurt Ren. I don't want to get even. I just want him to not have done it at all, and to go back to being a friend."
“I could pay a visit to some bronze dragons?” Lathrik offers. “I… I can’t undo it for ye. For either of ye.”
Natalyah laughs, that vivid, unfettered cackle of hers, and she presses a smooch of a kiss to Lathrik's cheek. "Sometimes I can't believe no one has figured out you and Peril are brothers," she teases. She still has a bit of a smile on her face but she sobers. "If I was going to ask the keepers of time to go back and fix something, it wouldn't be that moment. And they'd probably say no anyway. Or maybe they already did, and we don't even know it." She wiggles her fingers at him, letting him balance her with his hold.
Lathrik blinks at the laugh. Oh, we’re laughing now. He might have been serious. “Then how can I help ye?” he asks, running his fingers along her back, one hand around her waist to keep her steady.
"I don't need any help," she protests immediately, maybe more by reflex than anything. She seems chastened the moment after she says it. "At least, not for me doing something to help. Ren's the one trying to self-destruct, and I really," she takes a breath, fiddling harder at the buckle, "really don't want to be the reason someone else's life is ruined. I've done enough of that already. So, he needs to get his shit together, or I'll be really angry at him." She looks more like she's closer to tears than rage, but sure, we can call it anger. "You can help me with that."
“Aye, alright,” Lathrik says. “I was plannin’ to visit his family. See if they had any insights. I don’t normally pry into a mate’s private life, but drastic times…”
"Requires drastic dragons?" She's still definitely teasing him, an impish smile on her face. She looks from him to the window, where the sun has already set beyond the shadows of the city, darkening the glass to opacity. "Now? It's not exactly late but, we're not going to be able to send word ahead." Old Nobility habits die hard. "But I do have a standing invitation, so it's not like it'd be unaccountably rude."
Lathrik regards her flatly at the teasing. “Now,” he says, nodding. “I’m dressed for it, and I’m not lookin’ forward to how Ren might turn up for duty tomorrow. If he does. Don’t know if sleep’ll come without some sort of clue.”
Natalyah looks down at her own outfit. It's one of her many flashy butterfly dresses, an ombre black to dark blue, one shouldered twist of a dress, with a scandalous high cut over her right leg, the hem a lighter blue, edged with white, the back dotted with bright oranges, reminiscent of the Pipevine Swallowtail. Sure. She can wear this to see a normal family. "All right. Now it is."
She pokes a finger at his cheek affectionately. "You know, with the dragons offer, you've officially taken the place of all the top five romantic things someone's ever said to me."
Lathrik gazes at her, his expression serious despite the poking. “Well, if anyone ever passes me up on one, let me know so I can handle it.” There’s that word again, handle. It probably doesn’t mean anything good.
"Why is that when you say you'll handle it, I feel like what you're really saying is that you'll punch it?" Natalyah asks with another delighted laugh. "You could just run them off the list by making the top 100 instead." There's a daunting task.
“Because I’ll probably punch it,” Lathrik admits, reaching for his new sword to attempt to buckle it on with one hand, the other still supporting her. “Paladins, according to a certain little lass, are handsy.”
"Oh, are they?" She shimmies invitingly against him with that wicked smile. And then she narrows her eyes. "Wait, was that an observation about paladins in general or you in specific?"
“In general, I assume. She said I needed to find a priest to get handsy with,” Lathrik says, shrugging.
Natalyah's eyes narrow further, and then she halts, opens her mouth to speak, and makes a hunnnnh sound. "I'm not really a priest," she tells him. "I mean, I took no vows or anything. But, I have been learning things a priest could do. You had less of a formal training as a paladin, you said yourself. So, an unusual paladin with an unusual priestess. Of sorts."
“Somethin’ like that, aye,” he says, giving her, at last, a small smile. “Let’s go see the Hartrims.”
At The Hartrims
The Hartrims have a nice, normal, blue and white two story house at the edge of the Cathedral District, close enough to the harbor that they can see the ocean. They are clearly not wealthy, but based on the house alone they are at least well-off. The front yard is small, but neatly decorated, the plants well trimmed, and some fading summer blooms still dot the shrubbery.
Lathrik breezes past it all as though he doesn’t care, but he has probably already noted the living circumstances and stored it away in his mind, the same way he memorizes blueprints and patrol routes. Without an ounce of hesitation, he strides up to the door and knocks.
It’s a man who answers, big and weather-worn from time on the sea. He stands taller than Lathrik, his brown hair long and slightly curled like Reniya’s, and though he, too, has a mustache, his chin is shaven, leaving the mustache to curl down like a frown. The man doesn’t say anything, but he does present a dour look as he assesses Lathrik, as if determining if he could win a physical confrontation.
Natalyah is just a step behind Lathrik, partially obscured for a moment by the paladin's larger armor. She does not look like she's dressed for any sort of confrontation, so much as a dazzling night of drinking fine wines and gossiping among socialites.
"Well, don't just stand there and glare, introduce yourself, Lathrik." Natalyah sidles around him, squinting at the man in the doorway backlit from the interior. "You must be Ren's brother? No, father?" Natalyah guesses.
“What’s the boy done this time?” the man asks gruffly. Apparently he doesn’t care much for introductions.
A smaller, brunette woman appears, wrapping an arm around the side of him, her height not even up to his shoulder, peering at the visitors in concern. “Is this about Reniya?” she asks. “I’m sorry, I’m Othelia, and this is Jeremin. We’re his parents.”
“Lathrik,” Lathrik finally says, presenting his hand for a shake. “Dinnsfield. A friend of his.”
Jeremin stares at Lathrik’s hand for a few long seconds, his own arms crossed in front of his chest, before he finally unfolds them and takes it.
"Natalyah Kensington-Whit, formerly of the Elwynn Kensington-Whits, published lepidopterist, cursed worgen, and invited here by Penny," Natalyah says, shifting her weight onto her left cane as she raises her hand for a shake to Othelia. "We're joining the Concerned About Reniya club, or the CAN, if you will."
This does not seem to reassure Othelia at all, but she takes Natalyah’s hand all the same. “Penny invited you? Please, come in. You can sit in the living room while I call her down.” Othelia seems to be a woman with a perpetually worried face.
Jeremin turns without waiting for them to follow, presumably leading the way to the living room, while Othelia heads to the stairs.
Unlike the outside of the house, the living room is green. The couch is a lively green, with large comfortable chairs that match, and before it rests a green patterned rug. Whatever isn’t green is varying shades of brown, giving the room a nice, earthy feel. There is a dormant fireplace set into the wall to the left of the couch, and a long coffee table separates it from the chairs. Jeremin moves to one of the chairs and stands near it, waiting until the lady chooses her seat. He may look rough, but apparently he knows basic manners. The dour look remains.
Natalyah follows Jeremin to the chair and takes the seat with a remnant of her own manners, setting her canes to the side to rest against the right side of the chair, looking from Jeremin to Lathrik. He's not going to stand there like, well, a guard, is he?
Lathrik would probably rather stand, but he won’t leave Natalyah sitting on her own, so he unbuckles his sword and sits in the other chair, laying the sword across his lap. Jeremin takes a seat on the couch without a word, eyeing them still.
Thankfully, Othelia returns and joins him on the couch, and Penny, arriving in the doorway, smiles when she sees them.
“Natalyah, Lathrik!” she says. “Is this…” Her smile fades quickly. “I heard some rumors, about… Say they’re not true. Please?”
Natalyah shrugs. "I can't say if they're true or not if I don't know which rumors they are. The rumor that Lathrik is very taken and unavailable for romantic overtures is completely true, after all, and yes, I started that one. Pass it along to all the bars."
“Aye, Penny, be more specific. Which ones?” Lathrik asks as she takes a seat with her parents.
Penny hesitantly glances at Othelia and Jeremin. She hasn’t told them, apparently. Othelia stares pensively back at her.
“The one where he got into a fight with some man because he… made a comment about the guy’s wife? Or the one where he threw up on his superior officer’s desk, oh, or the one about him falling asleep in the bathroom because he was drunk while on duty…?” Penny looks hopeful. Surely these are exaggerations.
Lathrik might be having a moment of second-hand embarrassment, because it takes him a minute to respond. “It’s true,” he says, “And it’s why we’re here.”
Penny breathes out a soft “Oh,” and drops her gaze to her lap, shame and worry settling on her face.
Jeremin turns his own gaze on his wife. “See what you’ve done? You coddled the boy, and now he’s a wreck.”
Othelia looks close to tears. “You would have given him to the Tidemother to keep,” she argues.
Natalyah crosses her arms over her chest, frowning at Jeremin. "You could go back and forth on who is to blame or what mother to give him to, or you could start asking what you could do to help him. Do you care more about what happened before, or what's happening now?"
“He’s grown, what d’you expect us to do about him?” Jeremin asks.
“He can come home,” Othelia practically begs. “Tell him he can come home. Please.”
“How long’s he been doing… the bad things?” Penny asks. “I don’t usually hear too much about him, so I thought, no news is good news, right? But… has he been… Have women, or… or men, been licking him often?”
Lathrik opens his mouth, then glances at Natalyah and closes it. She gave her that information, she can deal with it.
"I wouldn't think so, based on his mood. My general understanding is that would improve it, not make him go off the rails," Natalyah answers. What. She asked.
Natalyah scoffs, shaking her head. "He's been on his 'look at me, I'm so irresponsible and horrible' bender for about a week. Has he done this sort of thing before? Behaved like this, and then something obviously turned it around?" She waves her hand dismissively, a noblewoman's imperious gesture at Jeremin. "I'm asking the people who actually care about helping. If you've got something you'd rather do than see your son's welfare because he's 'grown,' by all means, go do it."
“Has he done it before? He started when he was eight,” Jeremin says. Apparently he has some level of interest in the conversation, if not a helpful one. “It was only a matter of time before he reached this point.”
“He just needs to come home,” Othelia insists, unhelpfully. “I’ll take care of everything.”
Penny has turned bright red at the revelation that her brother likes being licked. Scandalous.
“Alright, what happened when he was eight, the boat accident?” Lathrik asks.
Othelia pales. “He almost drown,” she says. “She almost took him from me. I begged Her to spare him, to leave his lungs. It was close.”
Jeremin shrugs. “It was a freak storm, the boy went overboard. One of the lads fished ‘im out, but ‘twas a near thing, as she says. That’s when the coddlin’ started.”
"So, he almost drowned when he was eight, and then started being treated like he was made of glass, so he starts going out onto the streets and acting recklessly to prove that he isn't, meets Lathrik along the way, and eventually they turn over a leaf, join the guard, and he's been working well on that, admittedly lazily but responsibly enough, until recently, when he decided to just implode everything he's worked for all this time. Do I have that about right?" Natalyah asks, scanning the family members with a frustrated scowl. "Because I've known him for barely a couple of months and I know all that, so you'd think with people who had a great deal more time that you'd have some sort of insight beyond that."
“He stopped living here at fifteen,” Othelia murmurs. “He started spending less and less time here until he just… never came home. I looked for him, of course, and tried to bring him home, but he wouldn’t…”
“And he never visits,” Penny adds. “He kind of avoids us.”
“Fifteen?” This seems to be news to Lathrik. “I didn’t notice any change in hygiene, so I find it hard to believe he was homeless.”
“You ever seen ‘im with a pair of wires?” Jeremin asks. “The boy could get into anyplace. He wasn’t on the street.”
"It's not that hard to look like you're fine even when you're homeless if you put effort into it. Wash up right, do your laundry properly, and mind your clothing carefully, and you can play the part," Natalyah says defensively. Well, she'd know. "Especially if you're willing to break into places." She looks from Penny to Othelia and finally to Jeremin. "So. What was the final straw then?" It's a pointed sort of question.
“I… I think it was me,” Penny says, hunching her shoulders. “I wanted to be a painter, you see, but our parents convinced me that it just isn’t practical. A commoner couldn’t possibly make money doing it, so I took up sewing instead.”
Lathrik lifts an eyebrow. That wasn’t the kind of answer he was expecting.
Natalyah frowns harder, looking skeptical. "Why would that do anything to drive Ren off to the streets?" It's entirely possible, likely even, that the grew up rich girl doesn't really think in terms of how much money raising a teenager costs. "Was it just some sort principle of the matter?"
“Ren told me I was crazy for giving up what I wanted to do,” Penny says. “He was really mad, and that night he left and didn’t come back.”
Natalyah looks over at Lathrik, obviously not following this logic at all, but then again, she never knew 15-year-old Reniya. "So, because you wouldn't follow your interests, he decided to go off and not help you at all? Seems sort of counter productive."
“He said he’d never be like us,” Penny says. “That he wouldn’t sacrifice what he wants for anyone. That’s why he left. Because he couldn’t bear to be around us anymore.”
“‘Us,’” Lathrik observes. “Then I expect the rest’ve you’ve done something similar? Sacrificing what ye want?”
Othelia exchanges a look with Jeremin. “I come from a line of Tidesages,” she admits. “But Jere’s a fisherman and he wanted to come to Stormwind, help rebuild, and… follow the Light. He said the Light called him here. So I left it all behind. That’s why She tried to take Reniya. It was my fault…”
"A what?" Natalyah asks. "What's a 'Tide Sage'? Some sort of cult that you fled and took revenge on your kid?"
“It’s a religion, I suppose,” Othelia says. “We commune with the Tidemother, and She grants us the power to bless and protect Kul Tiran ships. We share a connection with Her. But… my connection has been growing weaker, these years. I don’t visit Her as often as I should. Jere doesn’t want me on the ships.”
“The Tidemother’s the ocean or something?” Lathrik shrugs. “Maybe some form of shamanism.” He up-nods at Jeremin. “And? What’d you give up?”
“I never wanted children,” Jeremin says. That’s it. That’s all he says.
“Ah.” Lathrik glances at Natalyah.
Penny looks a bit uncomfortable, but this isn't new information, apparently.
Natalyah's snarl of disgust at Jeremin's admission is obvious, and there's a brightness in the room that wasn't there before, a strange shimmering around her hands, before she scoffs and shakes her head. Back to the real issue. "Fine, then what was Ren's? What did he want?"
The room falls into confused silence.
“Um… he liked hurting himself, after the accident?” Penny offers.
“There wasn’t anything in particular he seemed to aspire to,” Othelia adds. “All I asked was for him to be safe…”
Lathrik studies them, seeming to have come to his own conclusion.
Natalyah might have come to her own as well. Are they the same conclusions? Probably not. "Somehow though I don't think he ever aspired to rise up to a guard for several years and then be unceremoniously kicked out, because that's just a little too specific and weird for anyone. But if you don't know what it is, then the only person who can probably say is Ren himself." She grabs her canes to her, rising back up to a stand.
Lathrik rises as well. Yeah. They’re done here. “I dunno about sendin’ him home, but I mean to see ‘im back to rights, at least,” he says. “What he does from there is his business.”
Othelia nods. “Well, thank you for that much, at least.”
Penny nods in agreement. “You’ll… come visit later, I hope?” she asks, addressing Natalyah, specifically. “Or I could… you don’t have to, I could bring the Pack.”
"Oh, trust me, I'll be back," Natalyah says, and looks more directly at Penny. "Listen, as it happens, I know a painter, a real one who does art galleries and all that. If you still have that sort of dream to at least try for it, I could introduce you to her. I'm not saying it will lead to a stunning career or anything, but even if you can't do it fully professionally, if you really like it, isn't it worth going for?"
Penny blinks in surprise. “You’d do that? That’s… amazing! I—” She ducks her head and glances over at her father.
“Jus’ don’t let it distract you,” Jeremin says dismissively.
Penny looks back to Natalyah and nods in a kind of subdued eagerness. Othelia, at least, looks happy for her daughter. …As long as it doesn’t take over her career, probably.
Natalyah glares at Jeremin, and then flips her hair over her shoulder. "And don't worry, I haven't forgotten about the other introduction. He's just off on a trip right now. When he comes back, he'll have a social calendar to address." It sounds oddly threatening. He might have some other filled in meetings already, courtesy of Natalyah claiming them, whether he likes them or not. "But right now, he's probably less of a ticking time bomb than Ren." She pushes her way back towards the door.
Penny is left wondering what exactly she might mean by ‘ticking time bomb.’
Lathrik follows Natalyah outside, then takes the lead, not speaking until he is well away from the place. What he finally says is, “They didn’t seem that bad.”
Natalyah turns her head to look at Lathrik, incredulous. "Really? I get that your standards might be different because at least they were there, but I completely understand why Ren felt like he had to go. I mean his sister is sweet, and she definitely didn't deserve that, but his parents would have driven most people stir crazy. Overbearing, over protective mother who wants to put him in a bubble, and there's his father, practically saying how he wished his son had never been born. It's the worst sort of feeling, knowing your parents think you're fragile or a mistake."
Lathrik shrugs. “I think you’re makin’ some assumptions here, but I s’pose it’ll allow ye to relate better to Ren. All I’m sayin’ is, at least no one in that house was trying to eat their kids.” The way he says that makes it sound like he’s pulling something from experience, rather than making it up. “Don’t get called in for examples of good parenting, in my line of work.”
Natalyah grips her canes harder. "Just because someone else has it worse doesn't make what someone else has good. Comparison doesn't work like that. It's both awful, one of them just deserves serious jail time and possibly the death penalty. You know how many times I was told to be grateful for my parents?" She doesn't wait for him to guess, as she picks up the pace. She shouldn't be leading. She doesn't even know where they should be going to find Reniya at this hour.
“Oi, ‘Talyah, think about it,” Lathrik says, increasing his pace. “His mother didn’t want to see Ren hurt, aye? Yet he still found ways to do it, believe me. That means she wasn’t all that successful at the… bubble or however ye want to put that. She was just worried. And his father answered the question I asked. I never asked if his opinion changed after havin’ kids, or if he didn’t love them. All we know is, he never wanted ‘em. Could be he’s glad to have ‘em, now. If he really didn’t care, he could’ve left, as ye said. Now, this is speculation, of course, but my point is, there’s more’n one way to take the information given.”
"And there's a difference in hearing about it and living something like it," she says, her voice tight. Distress pulls her mouth down, and the way she's looking ahead suggests she's seeing something else than the street ahead of her. "But right now I don't know that any of it was useful. He obviously doesn't confide in them. And you two have those ridiculous barriers up between yourselves, avoiding 'prying' into each other's private businesses." She halts as she whirls on Lathrik, obviously upset by the heated flush on her cheeks. "I couldn't even really tell him why I was so desperate to get to you, because you won't tell him. I don't understand why you won't let him really know you, and why you refuse to really know him. It's not helping either of you."
“’Talyah, him knowing about that isn’t going to help either of us. It might even make it worse. What Ren values is freedom,” Lathrik says. “He looked at his folks, giving up what they really wanted, and his sister, eventually too, and decided, as Penny said, they were all crazy. That he didn’t want to live that way, an’ that he’d seek his own freedom. So he does that. He does what he wants, takes what he wants, fights who he wants.
“I couldn’t tell ye why he took an interest in me, but at some point he did. He saw me struggling, trying to take what I needed, and… maybe felt some way about it. So he started helping me, because it was what he wanted. But consider this. What happens when what he wants clashes with his principles? Say, he wants to help me at any cost, but the choice he makes to do so denies someone else their freedom?”
There's those small twitches again, instinctive recoils from memory. "Believe me I know it's not a hypothetical. It was like he said, he would do anything for you, but me? I was just an Object, attached to you. 'Lathrik's Girl,' only a title as much as 'heir to the Elwynn Kensington-Whits,' and as meaningless for the person it described. I'm well aware that I could vanish into thin air and some other girl come along for you, and Reniya would just swap off, without a care at all for me being gone, because it was only ever about 'Lathrik's Girl.'" Even just saying it out loud has her breathing harder, hurt and anger both rising up to do battle for ascendancy.
"But that's a different thing, and I don't know how to fix that. I never did. But it's to do with something of Reniya being too extreme about how he cares about someone. And I don't know why he's decided to start hurting himself another way with the guard because of that night or something else in it, but whatever drives him to do it, to feel pain, it's all tangled up with you now, and it has you worrying yourself into nightmares, and coming home so stressed that you're ripping up plants just to get it out. So, it's time to untangle it," she says, and it sounds more like an order than anything, as she tries to hold onto her dignity before it flutters off into the wind.
“No, ‘Talyah, it’s not… He doesn’t see ye as an object,” Lathrik says, but there is a hint of uncertainty in his eyes, mixed with a hurt of his own. “You’re not replaceable to anyone. We’re goin’ to clear all this up, alright?”
"I'm not replaceable to you," Natalyah says. She looks up at Lathrik with wet sheened velvet eyes. It isn't for confirmation; it's for comfort surety. She genuinely believes it. "To everyone else I'm still just part of things because I'm connected to you. Maybe not Peril, but he knows quality lepidopterist research when he reads it."
“If that’s the truth, we will fix it,” Lathrik says, fiercely. “But until it’s confirmed, I… I can’t believe it.”
He stops shortly after they enter Old Town, and turns to her. “Tabiana. She’s not tied to me, and she seems to like ye.”
"She's in your unit, Lathrik," Natalyah says, frowning and shaking her head as he stops. "And she's just polite, like a retainer or a personal knight. I know the type. They're always like that with nobility, or used-to-be-nobility as it happens. You could bring in any other Lady Such-and-So, and she'd be the same." She looks away, staring off at nothing in particular, and the movement of her face is someone very obviously trying not to cry. "It isn't something you can just fix in one go. I didn't used to care about it. I had Lucy, and I had Rhodes, and I thought it was fine, that it didn't matter. I know better now, and this time I'm trying, really trying, but I know what I'm like. I'm difficult, and there's not a lot of people who like difficult."
“Hana, then,” Lathrik says, refusing to give up. “Hana likes ye. And it’s not got anythin’ to do with me, either.” He does not mention Joelle, probably because Elle doesn’t count. Elle never counts.
"Lathrik, she only took an interest in me in the bar that night because I was busy staring at you, and mentioned you," she says, and her voice has a shake to it. "I'm not saying they don't like me. It's just that they're getting to know me because they care about you. If I was someone else, they'd be doing the same thing." She starts walking again, moving faster. "It's fine. I'd rather it than nothing, and I have to start somewhere. I'm certainly not going to start going around talking to random people to get them to know me better. As a matter of fact, it goes both ways in that way. I trust that they're not horrible because they're your people, like a recommendation to get to know them."
“And I only met Hana through Elle,” Lathrik says, keeping pace. “That doesn’t make anyone replaceable. It’s not about how ye met, is it? If that was true, the whole world would be replaceable. Ren is… a different sort. He’s got only a few close friends, and that’s more on him than on you.”
He manages to steer them towards the Pig and Whistle, outside of which, a familiar man hovers.
Joelle turns at their approach, looking a bit bothered. “Lathrik,” he says. “Ren is…” He trails off when he sees Natalyah. “Pretty…”
He’s probably not talking about Reniya anymore.
Natalyah raises a brow up high, as she glances around for the man in question, who is not to be found. "Ren is pretty?" What, that's what it sounded like. "Pretty what? Pretty looking or pretty drunk or pretty much in deep trouble, because I'm willing to believe in all three."
Joelle reaches out to touch Natalyah’s dress, only to be stopped by Lathrik’s hand on his wrist.
Natalyah flinches back from Joelle's attempt to touch her. No touchie. Joelle is not up to touchie friendship.
“Aye, the dress is pretty,” Lathrik says with a scowl. “Now, Ren is what?”
Joelle nods towards the tavern. “Ilanya,” he says. It’s probably all he needs to say.
It is, indeed, all Joelle needs to say, before Natalyah's eyes sharpen, and there's a low, warning growl that doesn't belong in a human throat. "Where?"
“The bar, left side,” Joelle answers.
“Stay here, Elle,” Lathrik says, releasing him and entering the tavern.
True to Joelle’s words, though the tavern is crowded and noisy, just a glance towards the left of the bar reveals Reniya, his back pressed up against the wall, with a familiar blonde standing so close they are nearly touching. Neither of them looks uncomfortable; they might even be flirting.
Natalyah scoffs. "Great, they're probably halfway through some incredibly inappropriately kinky foreplay where she's threatened to tie him up and torture him and he's just outlining the specifics of how horrible it can get," she says tartly, but there's real worry on her face as she follows behind Lathrik, letting him be the one to push through the crowd.
“Ren,” Lathrik snaps over the noise, shutting up the people nearest him. He stops when he reaches the bar.
Ilanya turns to face him, remaining close to Reniya, that mischievous smile on her face. “Lathrik, Natalyah, fancy seeing you two here,” she says.
Reniya weaves an arm around Ilanya, still not touching her, and grabs his drink off the table, downing several large gulps before pulling on a grin. “Hey, it’s Lathrik and N’talyah,” he says cheerfully, saluting them with his glass. “Date night, is it?”
"Really? You think Lathrik takes me out on dates dressed in his full armor?" Natalyah eyes Ilanya balefully, and Reniya gets an entire disapproving frustration glare. She doesn't address the fact that Lathrik might not take her out on dates at all.
Reniya glances between them. Oh, huh, Lathrik is wearing armor, isn’t he? He shrugs and takes another drink. “As someone who’s never been on a date with ‘im, I really couldn’t say,” he says. “One of you’s dressed for it.” He grins at her.
“Why are you here, then?” Ilanya asks, stepping backwards, one of her legs moving between Reniya’s — still not touching. “It couldn’t be to interrupt us, could it?”
Reniya leans forward towards her, greedily, but only enough to shadow her smaller frame. They are still not touching.
Lathrik eyes them, trying to determine what the heck kind of game they might be playing here. “Ren, why’re ye with… Her?” he asks.
“Why not?” Ren asks. “She’s a good time.”
"And that's all that matters to you, is it? As long as it's a good time, then it doesn't matter if you're hurt, or who else it might hurt in the process?" Natalyah's grip on her canes makes it seem like she's one breath away from using them as a weapon against someone. "Or is that part of the good time, knowing that you'll be punished for something for it, like the danger and pain it causes is the only way it makes it exciting?"
Reniya finishes his drink, slowly, deliberately. “If you’ve got somethin’ to say to me, N’talyah, say it plain,” he says. “I haven’t got half the brains of your paladin, here.”
Lathrik stands by, ready to put someone in a time-out bubble if needed.
Ilanya seems to be debating whether or not she should move out of the way.
"When have I ever done anything but speak to you plainly?" Natalyah asks, and it's a good question. She's not exactly known for her subtlety. "It's not my fault you've drunk yourself into a stupor so that simple words fly by. But if you want it in smaller, even simpler words: we're here to stop you doing an ouchie on yourself with bad company."
“Oh, aye, are you? Since when is that your business?” Reniya asks accusingly, glancing between Lathrik and Natalyah. “That’s really the only reason you’re here? To ruin my night?”
“If we could speak somewhere with more privacy…” Lathrik begins.
“If you’ve got more to say, say it here,” Reniya says, slipping an arm around Ilanya’s waist and pulling her back against him. Now they are touching.
“This means you lose, you know,” Ilanya says, peering up at him.
“So I do,” Reniya tells her. “Ask your question when we’re done here.”
Natalyah looks stung at the accusation, and she presses her lips together into a hard line as Reniya chooses Ilanya. "Sure, you'll say you'll do anything for Lathrik, except for when he asks to speak with you to actually talk, then suddenly siding with someone like her is fair game, and giving her who knows what information that could be used against who knows who. So much for that."
“My, you must have a terrible opinion of us both,” Ilanya says, still smiling. “It’s almost like you don’t trust Reniya. Is that your plan? To push the two apart so you can—”
Reniya squeezes her hard enough to cut off her breath, silencing her. “Now, lass, nobody asked you,” he says. His gaze flicks over Lathrik and Natalyah, lingering on the latter. “So maybe I’ve changed my ways. Sure, I tried it, the do anythin’ bit, but I don’t like how it went. I’m done with that now.”
Ilanya catches her breath as his hold relaxes.
Natalyah steps forward into Ilanya's personal space, which means she's also technically in Reniya's personal space, but the worgen's ire is directed entirely at the woman. "The person I don't trust is you, because whatever you're doing, it's all just a game to you. You don't care about anyone, you're just serving your lordship. And I'm not going to just stand by and watch Ren hand over more ammunition to hurt him with, because I know he won't defend himself. So I will. He's my friend. Even if sometimes he's a bit of a bastard." There's a strange canine tilt to her head now, a reminder that under the human form lives something else. "Find another game to play tonight, or I will find one for you."
Reniya’s arms drop limply to his sides, releasing Ilanya. His expression is one of startled confusion.
“Heeyy, look at that, good for you,” Ilanya says, straightening and patting Reniya on the shoulder. Her body remains loose and relaxed, and the smile never fades. “I’ll catch up with you later for what I’m owed.” She steps into a shadow, reappearing, presumably, from someone else’s shadow, though it’s impossible to say whose. It’s likely she erased her presence entirely.
“I believe I was told not t’care about you,” Reniya says cautiously, his eyes on Natalyah.
Lathrik lifts his brows. “Aye, and ye probably took that clear out of context,” he says, though he looks at Natalyah to confirm.
Natalyah sniffs deliberately, as if checking for where Ilanya might have gone, or at least that she isn't still nearby. There's that animalistic sense of hackles still being up, but when she's satisfied they're essentially alone-ish in their corner of the bar, surrounded by a bubble of other noises covering their own words, she settles back down to the low angry simmer. She lifts up a cane to poke a finger directly into Reniya's chest, hard.
"What I said was that if the way you were going to be concerned about me was to treat me like an animal, ignore my autonomy and tie me up when you don't agree with me, then I don't want that sort of 'concern.' And of all people you should know exactly what I mean, because I've met your mother, and you know what it feels like to be on the other side of that sort of stifling behavior, treated like if you just stay home and never do anything then you'll be safe. I might not always make the right choice, but it's still my choice to make."
There is something in Reniya’s face for a moment that says he is trying really hard not to enjoy the painful poke. He glances away, raising both hands in surrender. “Aye, I got it. I realized. So that’s where we’re at. I’m stoppin’ it.”
“Then what’s the rest of it?” Lathrik demands.
“I’m stoppin’ it, I said. The carin’ about things business isn’t for me,” Reniya replies. “But it’s hard t’just stop right off, so I’ve enlisted some help.” He nods to the bar.
Natalyah doesn't bother following the glance. "That's not caring, Ren. That's controlling disguised as caring. Actually caring is harder, and involves a lot more of seeing a person and what they need, and what they want, and trying to respect it. It's like Lathrik said, somewhere in there of you caring so hard about Lathrik, you lost sight of me in it. I was just Lathrik's Object to take care of, with no will of my own. And yes, you weren't entirely wrong that I should have done it a bit better. I was scared, and I panicked. So. Thank you for helping me when I needed it, and I'm sorry that it got to where it did."
She flattens her hand and pushes at his chest, a motion that really does more to move Natalyah a bit backwards rather than Reniya. The inhuman strength isn't apparent, not in this form. "But not caring about anything, including yourself, is a stupid thing to do. All it does is leave you alone, and isolated, and it's the easy, coward's way out of things. It's hard to be a good friend, and a good brother, and all those things. So, if you really wanted to punish yourself, you should care even more, because sometimes it's miserable work, loving people around you and doing it right."
“N’talyah, I say this in the fondest of ways, but you, lass, are an utter menace,” Reniya says. “Have you ever seen a person work themselves to illness? I’ve seen it. I thought, if there’s somethin’ I could do to stop that happenin’ to you, isn’t it my duty? Might be I panicked a little myself, but if we’re givin’ the carin’ thing another shot, we’ve gotta address how I can keep your head on straight when you’re losin’ it.”
There's a combination of stung pride and hurt shame in the way she hunches her shoulders, looking away from Reniya. "I don't like it when someone tries to tell me I don't have any option but to do what they want me to do. I know that I'm not always right, but for a long time in my life before, I didn't get real choices, and then. The past four years, I really had none at all. No control over myself, or what I did." She hesitates, licks her lips as if they're dry.
"There are just — there are some things you just can't ever do, trying to take that away from me. I don't." She tries to clear her throat. "I don't fully remember it. It's like a dream that I couldn't wake up from, feelings and flashes," she says, and her voice shakes, and then her head shakes, like she's trying to clear it. "But I remember something about it, the way they came for me, hunted me down, when they were getting the feral worgens to try to bring us back to sentience. They tied me up, dragged me, because I couldn't walk, behind a horse or something. Then there were chains, sticks that they beat me back with so I wouldn't bite them. The cage. The muzzle. The stocks. You can't — " She's starting to sweat, and not from an overheated room.
"There was nothing of a 'good time' about it," she says, attempting a wit to cover the vulnerable way her head curves, exposing the back of her neck as her hair falls to each side.
Reniya frowns. “Ah — the rope. I’m sorry, Swallowtail, I didn’t realize. That must’ve been hard for you, relivin’ that. I didn’t mean t’make you do it. How ‘bout this. What if we have… a safe word, between us?” He scrambles to continue as Lathrik glares at him, probably due to the word choice. “No, hear me out, mate, it’d be like a… word we say when one of us needs the other one to take a pause and think about what they’re doin’, which people struggle with when they’re panicking, right? We don’t have to give context if it’s painful to talk about, we just say the word, an’ both of us stop and try to calm down, find a way to trust each other. But we can’t abuse it, aye? It’s got to be said in good faith.”
Natalyah breathes out shakily, and then turns to embrace Lathrik, her face on the underside of his jaw, breathing him in like a calming incense, leaning on him. She turns her head to look at Reniya, and holds up a hand with two fingers. "Two things that are hard limits. First, don't ever try to bodily, physically move me, without my permission, unless I'm unconscious and really can't give it to you and I'm in some sort of danger. I'm not a doll to be picked up and placed where someone else wants me to be. Second, I'll abide by that safe word, but only if you will never use it to ask me to stand by and watch you die, and do nothing about it. I can't do that again with someone. I can't — " Her voice breaks, and she lets it the broken sentence remain unfinished. "Anything else, and if you say it, I'll listen and respect it, even if I don't agree with it. Which I will tell you, plainly. Probably repeatedly."
Lathrik holds her, a steady, supportive paladin, a shield against the storm of emotions.
“No movin', got it. And askin’ you to stand by while someone’s dyin’ would be abusin’ the safe word, aye,” Reniya says. “That’s against the rules. And this is a word you can use on me, too. Let’s see… If we leave it up to you, you’ll name it after some butterfly, which is all well an’ good, but I probably won’t remember it in a crisis. So this’ll be two words, but how about we use Sea Puppy?”
Natalyah breaks from her storm with that sudden unfettered, wicked laugh of hers. "Why does that feel like this is your sneaky way of making it so at least someone is calling you it sometimes," she teases. She moves her head back and forth, her hair stroking paths across Lathrik's neck, catching slightly in his armor. "But I would remember it, even if I was in a panic."
Reniya shrugs and flashes a grin. “Guilty,” he says, holding out a hand for a handshake. “D’you forgive me?”
"For the nickname work around? It was my idea to call you in the first place, so I suppose I'll have to," she says, reaching out to take his hand, her cane dangling at her wrist, and Lathrik her better hold of balance. That's not what he meant though, and she knows it, as she grows more serious.
"And yes. For the other night, I forgive you for that, too. And I'm sorry for hurting you, making you think you shouldn't care about me or whatever else. Much as I hate to admit it, I really don't want that sort of life again, where no one but one or two people really care about me at all. And I really, really don't want to be the reason someone ruins his life again either. I can't have another unforgivable thing on my conscience."
As soon as the handshake is done and Natalyah has at least most of her balance back, Lathrik says, “My turn?” Before either of them can answer, he pulls back and slams his fist into Reniya’s gut, causing the other man to double over, then fall to his knees.
“Tides…” Reniya mumbles from the floor.
“Let ‘im walk it off,” Lathrik tells Natalyah. “Ren, you an’ I aren’t done, but I’ll leave ye be for tonight. Tomorrow, we’re goin’ on a little tour of apologies, startin’ with Pennings.”
Natalyah looks back and forth between Lathrik and Reniya like the anthropologist who agreed not to interfere in the local's customs is now seriously reconsidering her deal. "Walk it off — ugh. Men. Why does it always come down to hitting each other and saying ridiculous things like, rub some dirt on it and walk it off."
She looks accusingly at Lathrik, her expression a war of exasperated disbelief and, oddly, concern for Lathrik. "I'm only going to walk away if you tell me that you hurting him had nothing to do with me, and this is just something between you two. Because otherwise, I'm healing him. Or at least trying, because who knows! He might just decide to stay hurt anyway."
“And if I said it was both?” Lathrik asks. “Leave him. This is how some men communicate.”
Reniya, for his part, looks almost euphoric, the smile on his face a genuine one that only slips when he finally registers Lathrik’s words. “Wait, a tour? Pennings? Mate, y’can’t do that, I was gonna wait ‘til she’d seen somethin’ worse and forgotten about it.” He tries to achieve a stand, but Lathrik is already walking away.
Natalyah swings out a hand filled with the Light, smacking it on Reniya's shoulder, hard enough that the heal has to heal the sting from it immediately as well as the punch. "And this is how some women deal with men communicating with their fists," she says tartly. She points her finger menacingly at Reniya. She doesn't offer a hand to help him up. "You are going to apologize. It's good for you. It's like moral vegetables for the soul, like someone I once knew used to say." With that, she pushes off to follow Lathrik, scowling in part annoyance and part worry.
“Oi, what’d you heal it for?” Reniya calls after her. “D’you know how long it’s been since Lathrik’s hit me that hard?
"You don't think maybe that's why I did it?" Natalyah calls back through the bar to Ren. No weird punching rewards slash punishments for you, Ren. Eat your moral vegetables.
Joelle is still waiting for them outside, wearing a frown of concern.
“We chased the lass away, go see to ‘im,” Lathrik says, giving Joelle a pat on the shoulder on the way by.
Like a racer tagging into a marathon, Joelle brightens and bounds eagerly into the tavern.
Lathrik doesn’t stop until they reach a quiet street, where he takes a breath and lets it out in a sigh. “D’you notice, Ilanya only seems to turn up when somethin’s gone wrong?”
Natalyah keeps up with Lathrik's pace, coming to an awkward halt when he does. She's breathing harder, and is slightly flushed. The mention of Ilanya only deepens the flush with surging anger. "What do you mean? She's been hovering around you in bars for who knows how long. She's probably been watching now while you're at work. Or not you specifically anymore, but Ren and you now. She spotted him immediately when he was passing by, when I was riding along in her sight, and she lingered in it, taking her eyes off the Count and everything. You and Ren are still too interesting, and she's likely keeping tabs in between the assassin and maid work."
“Watching, aye, but she doesn’t interfere directly until somethin’s off,” Lathrik says. “And yet, it never seems t’hinder us. I struggle to imagine that’s not by design…”
"Didn't look like she was busy convincing Ren that he should stop drinking and go talk to his friends," Natalyah argues. "But if she's playing some sort of long game of trying to make us think she isn't a threat, that's another thing. I saw the way she was looking at Count Amerith, and how he treated her. She might not take orders from other people, but she definitely does from him. It's possible she's just not getting in the way because it's more entertaining to watch what we're doing as we are now." The way she shudders at the thought gives the sense that this sort of calculated game literally makes her skin crawl.
“They were playin’ a game,” Lathrik says. “I don’t know the rules, but from what I saw, it was a no-touching game. My guess is, they were flirting, with the rule that whoever touches the other person first loses, and the loser answers a question. It’s a roundabout way to get information, but one that would be guaranteed to get Ren’s attention, what with the flirtin’ aspect. It’s… clever. If she does claim her prize from Ren, we’ll have to ask what she wanted.”
"Yeah, I know it was a game, it was just one being played where one player was plastered and at a low point, and the other one was fully sober and in control," Natalyah says archly. "That's not clever, that's manipulative and cold hearted. That's someone using a moment when someone is down to take advantage for it for herself. She knew going into it that she'd win, and so whatever it is she wanted from him, she got."
“Which is clever if that’s your aim. I didn’t say it was kind,” Lathrik says, sighing. “But… Thank you, ‘Talyah. For speaking with him. Giving him another chance. He’s not always everyone’s favorite person, but if the two of ye couldn’t reconcile, it’d be… hard.”
Natalyah moves in closer, and even though they're in full public, albeit on a quiet street, she leans in to kiss Lathrik, setting an arm over his shoulder, a feat less comfortable than usual with the armor. "Well, I can't honestly say he's my Favorite Person either. That position's occupied already," she tells him, smiling at him like she knows a secret and is letting him on it (even though it's not a secret).
"But I do like him, and I care about him. Not just because he's your friend, but on his own odd, sometimes infuriating merit. He's not just swagger and masochistic flirtation, and anyone really paying attention can see that. Besides, I know what it's like to not be everyone's favorite person." Guilt steals away the smile. "I'm sorry for that. I'm probably going to make things harder on you because of it from time to time, clashing with your people, and screwing up. There's a lot of reasons no one wanted me in their pack back in Gilneas."
“Oi, they’re not my people,” Lathrik says. “They’re people who happen to hang around, and they care plenty about you, too. Clashing with others is just how it goes sometimes, the important thing’s where ye go from there, and anyone who didn’t want ye in their pack’s a damned fool. But do me a favor and don’t go tellin’ people you and Ren have a ‘safe word.’ I don’t want to strain the infirmaries.”
Natalyah snorts, but there's a defensive bristle to her now as well. "I don't go around telling people meaningful things, the ones that matter. There's things you say, and things you don't, and I do know the difference, Lathrik. I'm not a good liar and I know that. I can't avoid telling some things but, sometimes I use the things I can say so that people don't dig any deeper, to the real secrets, because they think I'd have said it. I try to keep what's really private hidden by the rest of the truth. You should know that by now." She points a finger aggressively into his armor with a mumbled ow. "Besides, why would that have you off punching people?"
Lathrik catches her finger, raising it to his lips and kissing it. “Some people might think a certain way about it, and they’d need correcting,” he replies.
"You know, there are other, less violent punching ways of letting people know who I'm with, right?" She's teasing, but she's also not, as she wiggles her ring finger, although it's her right hand not her left. Her bravery and boldness hold for a moment more, before she drops her gaze and leans in to set her cheek against his. "Besides, it's not me Ren's interested in, as anyone can see." She lifts her head and looks back at Lathrik, a whole new thought occurring to her. "Wait, is that why you know that it causes a strain on the infirmaries, by experience having done it before with people assuming you and Ren were a thing? How close was it almost a thing?"
“Slow down, slow down, one question at a time,” Lathrik says. “First, if Ren’s not interested in ye that way, it’s ‘cause you haven’t hit him hard enough yet. Second, everyone assumes with Ren, that he’s done stuff with everyone, it’s just easier, so I’ve never bothered to correct anyone, and third, he did try, and he got the same answer as all the ladies. I didn’t…want him seeing the curse.”
Instinctually, she slides her hand down to his chest over his heart, taking his hand with her in linked fingers. "Lathrik, when he tried to tie me up, I literally clawed through his back and threw him several feet into a building. If I had hit him any harder, I could have killed him," she says, a blend of incredulity and guilt. "Which I'm obviously not going to do, and I did heal him after, because I didn't mean to hurt him in the first place." She moves in closer, enough so that her body blocks most of the view of his breastplate, her chest against his hand, as she searches his face. "Why was it different with me? Why did you let me see it?"
Lathrik’s eyes meet hers with intensity. “There’s…something in the way you show your affections. Something fierce and honest, that’s ready to meet any step I take, and somehow being vulnerable with you doesn’t make me feel weaker, it’s…bolstering,” he says. “I never felt that with anyone else. It was never…real.”
He can feel the way it affects her, the sense of her leaning against him, a melting of something within her, even as her breathing picks up like the first strong gusts of approaching gale force winds, the pounding of her heart like thunder beating against his hand. That honesty is in the storm that she unleashes on him without holding anything back, as she crushes her lips to his. The kiss is softened only because she speaks, lips parting to say, "I love you." There's no artifice in her, and the fact that they're on a public street doesn't change that; anyone watching could see the fierceness of her feelings for him, and Lathrik gets the brunt of it.
Lathrik does not waste any breath on words, his free hand sliding to the back of her head to pull her tighter against him, a faint shimmer of Light expressing the force of his own passion. But there is something that causes him to frown and pull away.
“’Talyah,” he murmurs. “Let’s continue this at home, aye? I’d like to feel all of ye, and this…” he taps their entwined hands against his breastplate, “is gettin’ in the way.”
Natalyah's laugh is a wild thing loosed out into the night air. "It does that sometimes," she agrees. Maybe she means a little more than just the physical armor, but what it represents. "But I love you the way you wear it all the same."
Now, if only she had selective teleportation powers along with selective summoning powers.