the fool (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
afoolsgold) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
ioduanlogs2018-03-02 08:39 pm
afoolsgold) wrote in ioduanlogs2018-03-02 08:39 pm
[OPEN] an adjustment period
Characters: The Fool, FitzChivalry Farseer, Devin Parker + OPEN
Date: The first week of March.
Location: Around Aifaran.
Situation: The Fool is having a rough time.
Warnings/Rating: None currently, will update as needed.
I. CRIME 3 - INSURANCE [DEVIN]
The Fool's clever tongue has often been weapon enough to fend off sticky situations, but as the end of the previous month demonstrated to him, a barbed retort does little to repel an assailant bent on roughing him up in a back alley. He still sports the evidence of the assault on his face now; some stitches just above his eyebrow and a discoloured bruise on one of his cheekbones, to say nothing of what the fabric of his clothes conceals.
This 'insurance policy,' offered to him so candidly by a deceptively kindly neighbour, sends a shock of dread rocketing through him.
His first impulse (once he has been divested of what little money he possesses in order to pay for that 'protection' for the month) is to seek out Fitz, because in the throes of a crisis they have always sought each other out. But that very instinct that compels them to aid each other has resulted in catastrophic recklessness in the past--and, if he interrogates his concerns deeply enough, the Fool knows that he still harbours deep fear over what his close proximity to his Catalyst in Aifaran might spell for the future of Konryu. No, he decides, better to choose a cooler head, one less inclined to settle the dispute with an axe.
That is how he ends up outside Devin Parker's door. He knocks once, and waits, straightening his tunic. (It won't at all distract attention away from what has been done to his face, but there's no helping that now.)
II. THE DREAMING BRIDGE [FITZ]
He masks it well, but the Fool is not sleeping soundly. If he were to be truthful, he has not slept soundly since before Aslevjal.
The injuries he sustained at the end of the previous month were just severe enough for him to seek out the assistance of a healer (Eiji had said something about a hospital, which put the Fool very much in mind of the sick rooms where the ill and dying were housed in his own world, but the sight of his own blood was enough to force him into it). Now, in addition to a small line of stitches above one of his eyebrows and a bruise forming on one of his cheekbones, the Fool cannot sleep.
That is, perhaps, not strictly accurate. He can fall asleep. His nightmares prevent him from staying asleep.
His restless feet carry him out of his rooms and down to the cafeteria, where he fumbles with one of the machines until it manages to produce a cup of tea. This he clasps between two hands and approaches one of the windows to look out towards the lights of the rest of the city. It's raining; else he might go for a walk.
III. ARTS 3 [OPEN]
If fate has decided to do him one kindness over the past week, it is this: the approach of a cafe owner who, having glimpsed some of the Fool's carving, offered to put some of the pieces on display in her business. The money gained through selling a few of the pieces to her is enough to put his mind at ease; it more than makes up for the money taken from him by force earlier in the week.
He's seated at the cafe terrace now with a cup of tea in hand and a few other pieces on display; perhaps he'll attract the attention of someone willing to invest in more than just one of his pieces.
Date: The first week of March.
Location: Around Aifaran.
Situation: The Fool is having a rough time.
Warnings/Rating: None currently, will update as needed.
I. CRIME 3 - INSURANCE [DEVIN]
The Fool's clever tongue has often been weapon enough to fend off sticky situations, but as the end of the previous month demonstrated to him, a barbed retort does little to repel an assailant bent on roughing him up in a back alley. He still sports the evidence of the assault on his face now; some stitches just above his eyebrow and a discoloured bruise on one of his cheekbones, to say nothing of what the fabric of his clothes conceals.
This 'insurance policy,' offered to him so candidly by a deceptively kindly neighbour, sends a shock of dread rocketing through him.
His first impulse (once he has been divested of what little money he possesses in order to pay for that 'protection' for the month) is to seek out Fitz, because in the throes of a crisis they have always sought each other out. But that very instinct that compels them to aid each other has resulted in catastrophic recklessness in the past--and, if he interrogates his concerns deeply enough, the Fool knows that he still harbours deep fear over what his close proximity to his Catalyst in Aifaran might spell for the future of Konryu. No, he decides, better to choose a cooler head, one less inclined to settle the dispute with an axe.
That is how he ends up outside Devin Parker's door. He knocks once, and waits, straightening his tunic. (It won't at all distract attention away from what has been done to his face, but there's no helping that now.)
II. THE DREAMING BRIDGE [FITZ]
He masks it well, but the Fool is not sleeping soundly. If he were to be truthful, he has not slept soundly since before Aslevjal.
The injuries he sustained at the end of the previous month were just severe enough for him to seek out the assistance of a healer (Eiji had said something about a hospital, which put the Fool very much in mind of the sick rooms where the ill and dying were housed in his own world, but the sight of his own blood was enough to force him into it). Now, in addition to a small line of stitches above one of his eyebrows and a bruise forming on one of his cheekbones, the Fool cannot sleep.
That is, perhaps, not strictly accurate. He can fall asleep. His nightmares prevent him from staying asleep.
His restless feet carry him out of his rooms and down to the cafeteria, where he fumbles with one of the machines until it manages to produce a cup of tea. This he clasps between two hands and approaches one of the windows to look out towards the lights of the rest of the city. It's raining; else he might go for a walk.
III. ARTS 3 [OPEN]
If fate has decided to do him one kindness over the past week, it is this: the approach of a cafe owner who, having glimpsed some of the Fool's carving, offered to put some of the pieces on display in her business. The money gained through selling a few of the pieces to her is enough to put his mind at ease; it more than makes up for the money taken from him by force earlier in the week.
He's seated at the cafe terrace now with a cup of tea in hand and a few other pieces on display; perhaps he'll attract the attention of someone willing to invest in more than just one of his pieces.
no subject
"Sorry, sorry," Fitz says, and as usual it is a word that comes genuinely but all too easily to his lips. He sighs, and makes to pick up a napkin of his own to assist, but...
...no.
"Fool," he murmurs, moving closer. He touches the Fool's chin with very gentle fingers, encouraging him to stay still and be regarded for a moment, if he will allow it, so that Fitz can inspect. "What happened?"
no subject
"It will be all right," he assures him quietly, an answer that does not actually answer Fitz's question. Gently, he lifts a hand to take hold of his friend's wrist and coax it away from his face. (Those gentle, intimate touches are too much.) "I was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time. It's being taken care of."
How vague an answer can you possibly provide, Fool?
no subject
Fitz frowns. He knows that the Fool is far from unable to handle himself in a fight. Was he ambushed? Overwhelmed? If it had been some kind of accident, then the Fool would most like have simply told him so. (Whether or not Fitz would have thought him truthful might well have been a different matter.)
"Someone attacked you," he says mildly. "If you would tell me the reasons, then I would know if I must take action."
no subject
"Yes," the Fool replies just as mildly--and he may be a Fool, but he is not fooled for a moment by Fitz's tone, "and I may surmise what 'action' you would take. No, Fitz--we don't know yet what any consequences of your actions in this world might be, especially if you take them on my behalf."
He plucks the napkin from Fitz's grasp and uses it to mop up the rest of the tea from his own hands, then returns to the windowsill to clean up the remnants there. "I've made a friend here," he announces, unsure of why he feels so reticent to bring Devin up. "Devin Parker. He is looking into the matter for me."
no subject
Fitz's natural protectiveness towards the Fool has been exacerbated by the appalling events in Aslevjal, and Fitz can acknowledge that. He can also acknowledge, with a complete lack of shame, that he does not care if his motives are as transparent as air. The two of them have seen each other hurt, gravely injured, and even killed by circumstances too often. If he can alleviate this for the Fool, even only a little.
He frowns. His usual pleasure at the Fool's ability to find friendship is muted by his concern. "Then I am pleased for you about this Devin Parker, and I note that this must indeed be something reasonably momentous."
no subject
"I just," he begins quietly, at last coming to stop across from Fitz and lifting his eyes up to meet his friends, "think we must be cautious together, you and I, until we are certain that our choices here won't impact this world. Whatever fate has in store for Aifaran and Konryu, the Dreaming here has shrouded it from my eyes." Always he has been able to see the tiny, interconnected threads woven in and amongst living things, tying a person's fate to their choices; always he has believed in himself and his ability to know which path to follow. To have that hidden from him leaves him frightened and vulnerable in a way he struggles to describe.
He hesitates a moment, frowning, then ventures softly, "I am sorry, Fitz, that I left you behind."
no subject
Fitz nods, asking with curiosity. "You have hope that you will be able to predict, once more? Even though we're past the future you had foreseen?"
He knows how much it means to his friend to be able to see what will come. To be able to attempt to choose between this or that or ten thousand other options, to try to steer the world in this fashion or that. It must make the Fool quite afraid, and his heart lurches in empathy at that fear.
Fitz knows that it has been the Fool's purpose in life from childhood. His own feelings on the subject are mixed, at best; he has seen others hurt, including the Fool, too many times.
A headshake. "I am still furious at you," he says wryly. "And yet I left you behind in Buck Town, similarly for your own good. I understand it, Fool. I do not like it, yet I understand it. You had thought to propel me into Molly's arms. It was not quite that simple, which is not your fault."
no subject
With similar tired humour, he says, "May your fury at me always be this mild," and allows his mouth to soften into a smile, but his eyes remain sad, apologetic. He shakes his head, then motions towards a pair of seats near one of the windows so that they might sit together and speak comfortably.
"I thought to propel you into a normal life, Fitz," he says as he settles onto one of the seats, the cup of tea held comfortably between his hands. "A normal life that I could not be a part of, were we in the Six Duchies." For a moment he gives his friend a patiently exasperated look. "You know that there would be no place for me in your life with Molly."
no subject
If Fitz knew the direction of the Fool's thoughts, he would give him a good natured glower. It is what it is; he has not liked elements of it at all, yet there's been no choice at the time. His own griefstricken, violent response to King Shrewd's death and his killers led to him being imprisoned by Regal. For all that there are innumerable paths in where the future might go, for all that Fitz sometimes can choose to act outside of what is expected of him... there are far too many times when he must act in a particular situation as honour demands.
He doesn't fault the Fool, and even if he did, he would only need to look at what the Fool himself has endured. The Fool uses him when he must, but he uses himself, too.
"Likewise," Fitz tells him earnestly.
They sit. Fitz reaches out and covers the Fool's hand with his for a moment before responding, simply to note and appreciate that they are together.
"You should know that a life without you is incomplete," he retorts. "I would have found a place. It's moot, now, in any event. Molly has now thought me dead not once but twice. I went back to Buck to assist her in her grief over Burrich, and promptly vanished."
no subject
"You should know that a life without you is incomplete..."
It isn't so much that he doesn't hear the rest--he does--as it is that the beginning makes his heart clench in his chest with longing for something that he can't have. The Fool closes his eyes and turns his face aside for a moment, mastering himself, then considers his reflection on the surface of his tea.
"We may yet return to the Six Duchies," he points out quietly, lifting his eyes to Fitz's again. "That is the way of the Dreaming here, as it has been described to me. You may see Molly again, have the life with her that you always wished for." A pause, and a wince. "...I would only be in your way."
no subject
Precisely. Fitz's frustration blooms in his chest once more. The Fool wants to be with him, and he shouldn't then sequester himself from Fitz's life out of some misguided, ridiculous nobility.
"I have left her twice," Fitz says, sighing. "I can't imagine what I have put her through yet again, Fool. She may or may not even consider me, in time, but I cannot help but think that I have caused her too much pain."
He raises his eyebrows, mulish and pained. "How, exactly? Please explain to me how my more than friend would be in the way?"
no subject
More than friend.
That certainly captures the Fool's attention, and the look he gives Fitz is at once shocked and incredulous. In silence, he looks at his friend askance, his slender fingers tightening around the girth of his teacup. "It still staggers me, sometimes," he mutters acerbically, "how you are able to see so much with your sharp Wit and assassin's eyes, and still miss the obvious when it is right in front of you."
He sets his teacup aside and rises to his feet, eyes cold. "I'm going to bed, Fitz."
no subject
...this could have gone better.
Fitz tilts his head, frowning, as certain matters sink their way into his consciousness. He understands the Fool's regard for him. He does not, clearly, understand just how that intersects with the Fool's wish to be in his presence........ or otherwise.
He has said something quite stupid again.
"Would it be easier for you if I were to stay away?" he asks quietly. There is a stray thought drifting through him, a tiny query as to why his love for the Fool doesn't already encompass romantic love. He lets it be, for the moment. He searches through his pockets, finding not-quite-apricot candies and a small jar of not-quite-honey, which he holds out to the Fool wordlessly.
no subject
"It would have been easier for us both," he replies quietly even as he accepts both treats, holding them gently in his hands, "if fate were merciful enough to keep us apart."
He looks to his friend's eyes. "Good night, Fitz." Then he turns away from him and picks his way quietly through the lounge, to make his way back to his rooms.
no subject
Fitz winces at that, for he has never, ever thought so.
He sits in the darkened lounge for a while, then moves over to the window, gazing at the night sky. He pushes the heels of his hands against his forehead. He is exhausted, has hurt the Fool, and is no closer to finding a path back to Buck.
Well.
He'll give the Fool the separation he craves. If nothing else, he can do that.
He sighs, and picks his way out of the lounge, back along the dark streets, towards what is currently his 'home'.