[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?
[It's not really a question. Rather, it is like an invocation - maybe if she says it at the exact right strangled pitch, the ground will open up beneath her and she will slip neatly from his arms into the pit provided for her, never to be seen or heard from again. Imagine! A moment ago she'd almost been frightened of disappearing from Thedas forever, and now it suddenly seems like the most lovely thing a person could do.
She is saving the necklace. To melt down the chain for its metal, but that's beside the point. The point is:]
Then why on earth have you been spending so much time with us if it wasn't an expression of your steadfast and quiet devotion? You don't even like the science; I have seen the green look you get whenever one of us gets too close to a demon, or when I set that fire in the house's cellar. Which I maintain was barely a fire and more of a flash. Mr. Ellis, [he doesn't have lapels, but if he did she might be holding him by them now] you have carried all my things without complaint for six months.
[A labored look here and there, sure, but that barely counts.]
[ The look Ellis gives her is utterly wretched. The truth is unavoidable. It scorches, impossible to ignore. It's what had driven him to speak with Alistair Theirin, had pushed him to the outright madness of speaking aloud secrets he knows a Warden should keep to themself. The urge to simply fling himself out a window rather than admit aloud what has become increasingly impossible to avoid is high, but he grasps Wysteria's hands in his own instead, heedless of what may or may not be snot in the mix. ]
Because I am devoted to you, [ He tells her, expression akin to a dying star. He says it as if he's wronged her. ] I have been devoted to you and Tony for some time now.
[ Maybe this is a different kind of steadfast devotion than Wysteria had been describing. Ellis doesn't see much variation. ]
I'm sorry.
[ Tacked on helplessly, and very uselessly. What good is an apology if Wysteria has no idea of just how much he is apologizing for? ]
[Once as a very little girl she'd played a game with her grandfather as the pair of them sat on the stone estate wall. The game went like this: he would point out different animals - the geese on the lake, the deer grazing in the meadow, the game master's old terrier marching like a regimented foot soldier in his master's shadow -, and she would name them all the wrong things until he laughed. That's a fish, and those are horses, and there is the stable yard cat. What do you mean you can't see them?
This feels something like that, where the words are all in order but have been applied to a thing they don't belong to. She hasn't been crying quite hard enough not to miss all his desperate unhappiness.
(Or maybe the trick is that she's just miserable enough herself to actually recognize it.)]
I don't understand.
[Which feels so objectively helpless, exposed there in the corridor, that she can feel her eyes starting to go hot with tears again.]
[ Of course she doesn't. It's not her fault, coming at this with only a fraction of the necessary information. There's going to be a right time to have that conversation. But this isn't the right time, not on the heels of all her hurt and now the muddle of trying to dispel the notion that he'd been waiting for months on end to try and marry her in. ]
I know. And I'm sorry for that too.
[ Though the impending threat of more tears is a strong motivator to do...something. Ellis certainly doesn't know what. ]
I don't care very much for science, but I care for you and Tony. Does that make sense?
[ Every time he says it aloud, he's more and more aware of how stupid he's been.
But then, what did he actually expect? He came here because he was so utterly miserable over being on his own. Just crossing into Kirkwall had been tempting fate. ]
[Does that make sense? It isn't really so difficult a concept. So, all right. He cares for Mr. Stark and for her, and he doesn't have to want to court anyone to worry, to care, to want to be in their company. After all, she'd rather slowly transform into an old gray haired spinster than marry him but it isn't as if she doesn't care. She might have said something earlier if she didn't.
So then why make it so complicated? Why pretend it isn't just that straightforward?
Wysteria searches his face, her hands tight in his. Finally:]
It's really not so serious, Mr. Ellis. You don't have to be angry at Mr. Stark just because I am.
[ It has to be only human to be wrong-footed by that response. Ellis blinks at her before he decides to take this very gracious gift and accept the abrupt change in subject to one that makes him feel less like he's collapsing in on himself like a dying star. ]
I don't like that he upset you.
[ The words of a man who doesn't fully grasp what's at stake here. ]
[She sharpens, that ribbon of fury flashing in the set of her brow. Not angry at Ellis, just angry.]
I'm sure if he knew, he would think I was being perfectly unreasonable. And if he was at all sorry, it would only be because he'd been caught.
[Her hands abruptly part from his. She wipes her eyes. She scrubs her cheeks with her sleeve.]
I won't have it. In fact, I would prefer we never discuss it again. The best way of getting even [she says, and it sounds like she is quoting the spirit of something if not the letter] is simply to do well.
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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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You like those things. I thought you would be bored with a shield on it's own.
[ :grimacing: ]
What do you mean, oh no?
[ Suddenly very concerned about who expects what of him in this scenario. ]
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[It's not really a question. Rather, it is like an invocation - maybe if she says it at the exact right strangled pitch, the ground will open up beneath her and she will slip neatly from his arms into the pit provided for her, never to be seen or heard from again. Imagine! A moment ago she'd almost been frightened of disappearing from Thedas forever, and now it suddenly seems like the most lovely thing a person could do.
She is saving the necklace. To melt down the chain for its metal, but that's beside the point. The point is:]
Then why on earth have you been spending so much time with us if it wasn't an expression of your steadfast and quiet devotion? You don't even like the science; I have seen the green look you get whenever one of us gets too close to a demon, or when I set that fire in the house's cellar. Which I maintain was barely a fire and more of a flash. Mr. Ellis, [he doesn't have lapels, but if he did she might be holding him by them now] you have carried all my things without complaint for six months.
[A labored look here and there, sure, but that barely counts.]
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Because I am devoted to you, [ He tells her, expression akin to a dying star. He says it as if he's wronged her. ] I have been devoted to you and Tony for some time now.
[ Maybe this is a different kind of steadfast devotion than Wysteria had been describing. Ellis doesn't see much variation. ]
I'm sorry.
[ Tacked on helplessly, and very uselessly. What good is an apology if Wysteria has no idea of just how much he is apologizing for? ]
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This feels something like that, where the words are all in order but have been applied to a thing they don't belong to. She hasn't been crying quite hard enough not to miss all his desperate unhappiness.
(Or maybe the trick is that she's just miserable enough herself to actually recognize it.)]
I don't understand.
[Which feels so objectively helpless, exposed there in the corridor, that she can feel her eyes starting to go hot with tears again.]
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I know. And I'm sorry for that too.
[ Though the impending threat of more tears is a strong motivator to do...something. Ellis certainly doesn't know what. ]
I don't care very much for science, but I care for you and Tony. Does that make sense?
[ Every time he says it aloud, he's more and more aware of how stupid he's been.
But then, what did he actually expect? He came here because he was so utterly miserable over being on his own. Just crossing into Kirkwall had been tempting fate. ]
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So then why make it so complicated? Why pretend it isn't just that straightforward?
Wysteria searches his face, her hands tight in his. Finally:]
It's really not so serious, Mr. Ellis. You don't have to be angry at Mr. Stark just because I am.
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I don't like that he upset you.
[ The words of a man who doesn't fully grasp what's at stake here. ]
I'm sure if he knew, he would apologize.
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I'm sure if he knew, he would think I was being perfectly unreasonable. And if he was at all sorry, it would only be because he'd been caught.
[Her hands abruptly part from his. She wipes her eyes. She scrubs her cheeks with her sleeve.]
I won't have it. In fact, I would prefer we never discuss it again. The best way of getting even [she says, and it sounds like she is quoting the spirit of something if not the letter] is simply to do well.
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Is this something that requires revenge instead of an apology?
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It is a matter of professional integrity, Mr. Ellis.
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