002

[solmate]

WHO: Alina + closed starters (Kirigan, Ciri, Kylo, Geralt)
WHAT: Alina haunts some friends new and old
WHERE: Free Cities, the Horizon
WHEN: Throughout October
NOTES: No warnings currently. This will be a catch-all for October threads. If you'd like a custom starter, dm me and we'll figure something out!

Comments

[solmate]

The company you keep usually is.

[ To say nothing of him. Like calls to like. The lack of reaction is more than a little disappointing though. Ralston had abandoned his lie about being there as a courier for Kirigan quickly enough, but she's happy to borrow it for now in this little game of scheming. Alas, she is still such an amateur. ]

Curious too. He thought I might be able to tell him more about you.

[sankt]

That is curious, considering I'm already aware of of everything you know.

[About him, he means, but making himself seem omniscient has always been useful.

Fortunately for Michael Ralston, that's only a bit of propaganda, bolstered by spies—and that lack of omniscience would give the man a head start, were he looking for a good hiding place. Which he should be, and likely isn't. Because he thinks he's clever.

That Alina thinks she's very clever, too, is markedly less insulting—mitigated, at the very least, by territorial impulse. Even the vehicle of their discussion is eclipsed by it. For a moment he just stares at her.]

What did you tell him?

[It's too bad she can't see into him; she might be satisfied by the anger that's begun to seep up from that seething black place beneath his humanity. Or perhaps not that horrible thing itself, but that she summoned it.]

[solmate]

[ Look at him, bolstering himself up like the villain in a children's story. Then again, who can really say when he's lurking in the shadows. Her shoulders curl forward, guarding herself. ]

Nothing.

[ Liar. ]

I figured I'd let your actions speak for themselves.

[sankt]

[The way his black eyes narrow, mostly by the lower lids bunching, suggests some private working of his intuition. Amusement—not the kindly sort—begins its slow creep into the subtleties of his face.]

I don't believe you. But that's fine. Mister Ralston [—the name crisply articulated—] is due a meeting, anyway; I'll answer to him then.

[Yes. That is exactly what will happen. During that meeting.]

[solmate]

[ Her lips twitch, the beginning of a petulant sneer. ]

I suspect you'd do whatever you wanted regardless of what I did or didn't say. I suspect that is a very old habit of yours.

[ And clearly still a sore point for her. ]

[sankt]

Tell me something not dreamt up in misguided idealism, [he says, rising,] and I might listen.

[The bed fades into a greyish slab of suggestion. The rug's fine pattern becomes clear where he steps, murky when his foot leaves it. He's coming nearer, and taking in all the edges of this vision she's delivering to him, judging by the movements of his eyes.]

You might start with why you're here.

[solmate]

[ She's half listening as he moves, less interested in a chiding that seems more appropriate for if she'd pocketed sweets from a merchant in town than a difference in philosophies when there's something far more curious. Not just objects disappear, but the furniture as well. She squints, trying to hold onto it but fruitlessly it all fades. She can't brush it away as some tricky bit of place-based magic.

It's him.

The skin around her collar feels itchy suddenly. She fights the impulse to curl forward, hunching, but she cannot afford to be small around him. She forces her spine straighter to meet him. ]

You never told me if you got my letter.

[ As if such a short note could be considered such. ]

[sankt]

You know I get all your letters.

[It's offhand, like this precision taunt requires only half his attention.

Less than half, actually; nearly none. This apparition, this strange window to her, has him enthralled. The closer he comes, the brighter his eyes are, not with wonder, but study. He's looking for the fabric of it. For the seams.]

The Singularity, it granted me a gift, [he says, implicitly ignoring whatever Alina's reaction might have been to explain to her this thing she didn't ask.] I can see things I couldn't before. [The particular way his mouth holds on to the shape of his last word—the fierce intent in his stare—

Abruptly, his focus shifts to her. He's right at the window. He's lifting his hand to it.]

[solmate]

[ She walked into that, but it doesn't make the reminder sting less, her hackles less prickly.

Before she can think better of it, she lifts her hand to push his away. Or perhaps it was yielding to a pull that pulsed in the back of her mind this whole time. Either way, the effect is immediate, power rushing to meet its match where skin meets skin, accompanied with an unfortunate memory of a kiss shared, a loneliness abated for just a moment, a request (Stop that or don't maybe) already forgotten.

Her hand lingers too long before she purposefully wrenches it back. ]

How lucky for you. [ Aggressively trying to seem like she does not care when she in fact cares very much. She darts to the side, scrambling to her feet, eyes darting around the room she assumed he could not see, but now she's not so sure. There's a thin knife for skinning hides around here somewhere she thinks, unwise taunts to distract him flowing out without much thought as she fixes her eyes on a drawer, and her mind grasps onto the idea of shutting a door. ] You can help the Queen find her lost jewelry. Or I'm sure they'll find some other use for you in that large castle.

[sankt]

[Alina touches him, the world beyond them both becomes trivial in his awareness, and the moment hangs in perfect stillness—until that distant ache comes rushing up on the current and crashes between them, louder than anything else. His fascination and suspicion, the pleasure of seeing her face, even the frustration that blooms after it like a dark stain: all of it, muted by that exquisitely loathsome ache.

In the liminal instant before their hands jerk apart, that black feeling shudders and spreads in an aggressive streak. He snatches after her, but she's too quick—]

Alina—

[No. Some shrill fragment of thought jerks his awareness like a rein, stops him following her directly; he can manage his impulses better than that.]

You shouldn't have left.

[solmate]

[ A flinch at her name, it almost sounds like there's something genuine behind it. Something she recognizes. Longing?

It's a distraction. Something false, something he's feigning on purpose, and something she can't afford to fall for. She hurriedly searches for something, anything. In her haste, she knocks a bottle of ink onto the floor, shattering. The metal nib pen is hardly a weapon, but it's the best she's got.

Turning on her heels, her knuckles are white around the pen, holding it more like it's a deadly sharp knife than something she had spent her meager wages on. It's hilarious to think it's even a useful in this case. ]

No. I'm safer here.

[ Maybe? Marginally? But it's not hard to figure out that she doesn't think that's true either. ]

[sankt]

[When she whirls on Kirigan, she'll find him no closer than where he'd stopped. His attention's just come up from the fallen ink, he looks ready to say something—and whatever that something was is summarily abandoned when it registers that she's wielding a pen like she's going to shank him with it. His posture briefly takes on the mildest slouch of exasperation: Really?]

What do you think I'm going to do, exactly? This is a window, not a door. [After a pause,] You really have no idea what you're doing, do you.

[solmate]

[ He's far too close, but she's far too stubborn to step back even if there was space for her to do so (her rear may or may not only inches from the short wooden dresser if not already skimming it.)

Her mouth opens ready to protest, but he is annoyingly correct. ]

Let me guess. You'd be willing to help me.

[sankt]

[The general's entire mien settles into reserve. Nothing eases his temper like being told he's right, even indirectly, but the way she's told him is like a needle. A trifling sting. Annoying. He need only wait a few seconds for it to subside and go on as if it were nothing. And so, at length:]

No... actually.

[That dull gleam in his eye, that's casual spite. He's enjoying this answer before he's even given it in full.]

I might have, but you broke our accord when you ran.

[He's keeping her letter; he's read it a dozen times, even smelled the paper it's on.]

So no, I don't think I will. If you want so badly to be on your own, then so be it.

[solmate]

[ That is... not what she was expecting. Alina looks a bit like she's had a foot fall through a patch of ice or missed a step coming down the stairs.

She's used to being told no, but... not by him. ]

Fine. [ Fine, she finally manages. ] I'm used to being alone anyway.

[ Used to it, but that doesn't mean she likes it. Her knuckles twist around the pen, a simmering anger threatening to spill out, but chance saves her from facing her own violence. As quickly as he had appeared, he is gone, the space empty.

And she is alone. ]