[With one hand shielding her face so she can issue a few strangled sobs while simultaneously looking no doubt like a complete imbecile (she is a truly excellent multitasker when it comes to being a buffoon, Wysteria reasons to herself, which only makes her cry harder), she allows herself to be blindly steered to the margins of the corridor.]
How could he! I have tried very hard to been nothing but kind, barring a few perfectly reasonable points of frustration. I don't understand why this keeps happening.
I don't want to look at you, [she wails, but drops her hand away from her face anyway. Staring furiously at the ground, she attempts to will her tears to reverse their trajectory and be sucked back up from whence they came.
Her deep breath is more honking gulp, but whatever. Baby steps.]
[ Lacking a handkerchief, Ellis gently mops the tear streak from Wysteria's cheek. It's a little similar to the way you'd pet a cat that may or may not bite you, but it's the thought that counts, right? ]
[Her head snaps up, a look of pure mortification on her face. Does she look like she's been struck? Why not simply say she looks dreadful, that her complexion is terrible, or that her eyes are unpleasantly sunken?
There is a dangerous, distinctly infuriated tremble to her lower lip.]
[ There's probably no diffusing her irritation, but it's better than tears. He gently swipes the tears from her jaw, fully prepared for yelling, but hoping to head off the warning tremble of her lip. ]
[Bad news; those are definitely verge-of-tears nostrils.]
Not— not in so many words. [It's one word.] But in spirit. And it doesn't matter. It doesn't matter whatsoever because his opinion doesn't matter and he is wrong and inconsiderate. So see, it is as I said. There is nothing at all to repair and everything is perfectly all right and you may stop looking at me now.
[She presses the back of her hands to her eyes. It's fine.]
[It is the unfortunate truth of the universe that being asked not to cry rarely commands the desired result. But she does her best, hanging her head to avoid seeing him and being looked at while she is being so absurd as her hands turning to fists in his. It's fine. It's fine. It's fine.]
I don't need to be anyone's favorite person. I just want to not be the joke everyone tells because they think I'm too stupid to notice.
[ It's at this juncture in the conversation that Ellis is abruptly aware of his own attachments. How the fuck did this happen? He's perhaps the worst man in the world for allowing this to occur, but there's nothing to do about it in the moment. ]
You are one of my favorite people. [ Generously allowing for Tony, since he's already in over his head. ] And I cannot imagine anyone is so willfully idiotic that they don't realize how intelligent you are.
[ Might sound like flattery, but Ellis genuinely believes that of her. ]
I asked Miss Davies - one of the new Rifters, from a place like Mr. Stark and Mr. Fitz - to translate something for me. You know how he can be. How Mr. Stark sometimes speaks. And the thing that he has called me - not always, just sometimes; only once or twice - is apparently just the name of some woman who writes terrible books about intolerable women whom everyone dislikes. And even Mr. Fitz seems to see some obvious similarity. And I do not want to be silly, [she cries insistently] I just want to be taken seriously by someone somewhere before I disappear from here too and everyone forgets I was here at all.
Luckily??? Ellis thinks better of trying to rationalize Tony's endearments. She's hurt, and that's all there is for the moment. Ellis' thumb rubs lightly over Wysteria's knuckles before he lets go, releasing her hands momentarily only to draw her in to be held.
Or to get himself punched in the stomach, either or. He doesn't assume himself to be any better at predicting Wysteria's responses today than he ever was. ]
[She doesn't want to cry on Ellis. She doesn't want to cry in the corridor outside of the library where Maker only knows who will come sweeping through here and see her all covered in snot and absurd and miserable. Someone will see her. Someone will remember this. And no one should ever be allowed to see another person wounded. It's humiliating.
All of which translates to Wysteria covering her face with both hands before she lets herself be drawn into him so she can sob into the buffer of her palms instead of directly into his shoulder.]
[ Unfortunate that the library corridor lacks sufficient hiding places, particularly because Ellis feels on the verge of a panic attack when he considers his present entanglements.
Holding Wysteria requires Ellis to dredge up instincts he'd thought had died in him. As it turns out, he's still well equipped to hold someone else and rub patient circles across their shoulders. ]
I'll remember you as long as I live, [ he tells her quietly, which means something even if he's neglected to explain to her just how short his lifespan will likely turn out to be. ] Whatever that's worth to you.
[ It shouldn't be worth very much. He's done her a disservice, in that she can't properly assess what he's promising. ]
[It should be the right thing to say. It should surely do something to slacken her tears. Because it is a very kind thing to say; it is, theoretically, exactly what she wants to hear.
Instead, for a span of a few seconds, Wysteria seems to cry even harder. And then she raises her face from her hands, red eyes and tear stained. She is very close to him, and the absolute picture of misery as she announces very loudly to him and the corridor,]
But I don't want to marry you. I'll understand if that makes a difference. If you change your mind. But you should know that.
[And with a wail, she presses her face back into her hands and presumably continues to get her snot all over him.]
[ Of all the responses Ellis had expected, this certainly wasn't one of them. His half-mutter of what likely goes unnoticed beneath Wysteria's sobs. ]
Grey Wardens don't marry, [ he says slowly, confusion still faintly coloring his tone as he resumes the slow circle of his hand on her back. ] So it needn't make any difference.
[She jerks back. It is not far - she is still within the circle of his arms -, but it is a distinct and suddenly very stiff distance. Tears? What tears. Ellis has apparently finally gotten his wish, as Wysteria has abruptly stopped crying.]
Pardon? [Excuse him.] Do I seem like a dishonorable woman?
[ Is this a welcome turn in conversation? Has he accidentally proposed something? ]
I mean I will never take a wife, and I won't share my bed with another. [ While it's tempting to frame this as a Warden requirement, Alistair's advice is still weighing on him. ] I decided that when I became a Warden. I've not plans to change my mind.
[ Sufficient reassurance that he isn't doubting her virtue? Unclear. ]
Also he feels truly panicky at the question. While he's entertained the idea of offering some explanations to them, this minor brush with the opportunity to do so has him reconsidering. ]
[But what? She feels as if she's moving through molasses; her head hurts, and her eyes and swollen, and—]
But your— But you— [opened mouth becomes closed mouth, then opens again:] Do you mean to say that you have not been pining for my undivided attentions since before Satinalia?
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How could he! I have tried very hard to been nothing but kind, barring a few perfectly reasonable points of frustration. I don't understand why this keeps happening.
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1. Who is "he"
2. Where can "he" be found
But Ellis settles for— ]
Here now, look at me.
[ A few scholars are loitering in the alcove, and scatter like startled birds at the first horking sob. ]
Deep breath. We'll fix it.
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Her deep breath is more honking gulp, but whatever. Baby steps.]
There's nothing to fix. It doesn't matter.
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[ Lacking a handkerchief, Ellis gently mops the tear streak from Wysteria's cheek. It's a little similar to the way you'd pet a cat that may or may not bite you, but it's the thought that counts, right? ]
There, you're alright.
[ Is it better or worse to ask what's happened? ]
Let me see. Has someone given you a black eye?
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There is a dangerous, distinctly
infuriated tremble to her lower lip.]
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There you are.
[ There's probably no diffusing her irritation, but it's better than tears. He gently swipes the tears from her jaw, fully prepared for yelling, but hoping to head off the warning tremble of her lip. ]
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Do you find me insufferable?
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No.
[ Though immediately his expression darkens. ]
Did someone call you insufferable?
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Not— not in so many words. [It's one word.] But in spirit. And it doesn't matter. It doesn't matter whatsoever because his opinion doesn't matter and he is wrong and inconsiderate. So see, it is as I said. There is nothing at all to repair and everything is perfectly all right and you may stop looking at me now.
[She presses the back of her hands to her eyes. It's fine.]
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He is wrong. [ Fervently. ] And he is a fool.
[ Boldly asserting this without a real sense of who the culprit is. It doesn't matter.
Still fairly determined to break someone's legs about this, but in the moment, he settles for taking her hands in his own. ]
Don't cry. Please.
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I don't need to be anyone's favorite person. I just want to not be the joke everyone tells because they think I'm too stupid to notice.
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You are one of my favorite people. [ Generously allowing for Tony, since he's already in over his head. ] And I cannot imagine anyone is so willfully idiotic that they don't realize how intelligent you are.
[ Might sound like flattery, but Ellis genuinely believes that of her. ]
Please tell me what happened?
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I asked Miss Davies - one of the new Rifters, from a place like Mr. Stark and Mr. Fitz - to translate something for me. You know how he can be. How Mr. Stark sometimes speaks. And the thing that he has called me - not always, just sometimes; only once or twice - is apparently just the name of some woman who writes terrible books about intolerable women whom everyone dislikes. And even Mr. Fitz seems to see some obvious similarity. And I do not want to be silly, [she cries insistently] I just want to be taken seriously by someone somewhere before I disappear from here too and everyone forgets I was here at all.
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Luckily??? Ellis thinks better of trying to rationalize Tony's endearments. She's hurt, and that's all there is for the moment. Ellis' thumb rubs lightly over Wysteria's knuckles before he lets go, releasing her hands momentarily only to draw her in to be held.
Or to get himself punched in the stomach, either or. He doesn't assume himself to be any better at predicting Wysteria's responses today than he ever was. ]
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All of which translates to Wysteria covering her face with both hands before she lets herself be drawn into him so she can sob into the buffer of her palms instead of directly into his shoulder.]
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Holding Wysteria requires Ellis to dredge up instincts he'd thought had died in him. As it turns out, he's still well equipped to hold someone else and rub patient circles across their shoulders. ]
I'll remember you as long as I live, [ he tells her quietly, which means something even if he's neglected to explain to her just how short his lifespan will likely turn out to be. ] Whatever that's worth to you.
[ It shouldn't be worth very much. He's done her a disservice, in that she can't properly assess what he's promising. ]
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Instead, for a span of a few seconds, Wysteria seems to cry even harder. And then she raises her face from her hands, red eyes and tear stained. She is very close to him, and the absolute picture of misery as she announces very loudly to him and the corridor,]
But I don't want to marry you. I'll understand if that makes a difference. If you change your mind. But you should know that.
[And with a wail, she presses her face back into her hands and presumably continues to get her snot all over him.]
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Grey Wardens don't marry, [ he says slowly, confusion still faintly coloring his tone as he resumes the slow circle of his hand on her back. ] So it needn't make any difference.
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Pardon? [Excuse him.] Do I seem like a dishonorable woman?
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[ Is this a welcome turn in conversation? Has he accidentally proposed something? ]
I mean I will never take a wife, and I won't share my bed with another. [ While it's tempting to frame this as a Warden requirement, Alistair's advice is still weighing on him. ] I decided that when I became a Warden. I've not plans to change my mind.
[ Sufficient reassurance that he isn't doubting her virtue? Unclear. ]
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says her face and how far she is leaning back, relying almost entirely on Ellis's grip on her to stay upright.]
What?
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Also he feels truly panicky at the question. While he's entertained the idea of offering some explanations to them, this minor brush with the opportunity to do so has him reconsidering. ]
Aye?
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[But what? She feels as if she's moving through molasses; her head hurts, and her eyes and swollen, and—]
But your— But you— [opened mouth becomes closed mouth, then opens again:] Do you mean to say that you have not been pining for my undivided attentions since before Satinalia?
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Did someone tell you that?
[ Please let there be someone he can shift the blame to. ]
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[And a shield, but that had seemed rather less romantic at the time. And oh gods, he had meant it platonically.]
Oh no.
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