( the glance up from what she's doing—measuring two fingers of whiskey each into the dumpy looking mugs she's arranging their chocolate into—is fleeting, but she knows that look well enough not to need more than a glimpse at it to say, )
I knew you would.
( she holds a mug out to him, and toes one of the over-sized cushions on the floor in his direction; the loft is too small for her to have considered anything like armchairs, the rug in front of the fire is plenty enough to sit on. nicer than some places they've sat together, in the past.
she sits, once he has his mug. pushes her sock feet as close to the hearth as they can safely get. says, ) I've found his sister. The one he was looking for.
( that, bede had not advertised so widely; tsenka veered back and forth between respecting the sentiment and sullenly complaining to marcus (and to him, when she wanted to be cruel) that they'd all lost family, and hadn't they got enough of it now? what could he possibly need with some ordinary woman who'd never know what they'd been through together, and might be dead? might have passed him on the road since, neither of them knowing. )
Jone, ( before he can either ask or actively lose interest in being told. ) The enormous sword woman. It's her.
[ The second jacket he'd layered in under his coat is shed and hung, trusting the room will get warm enough eventually, and that if not, he can do something magical about it. He sits on the floor with the cushion, with the slight stiffness of a cold day in his bones (and the encroaching marker of 40, literally any day now). At ease with a lack of decorum in a way his day-to-day vibe does not always imply.
He works at getting his boots off, having nodded to this news of a found sister and otherwise more interested in loosening a knot he'd apparently been more firm than necessary with in the tying.
But he does look up at that name, pausing over it. Yes, the enormous sword woman. ]
I'd say she was smaller the last they saw each other.
( it isn't a unique story; a pair of twins, children, parted by one touched by the fade and one not. one taken by templars, and one left to roam for her own fortunes. most mages in their circle, and every circle, had a story like it. knew a story like it.
tsenka doesn't remember her parents. marcus is her family, and marcus is enough for her. she had had, at best, limited patience with those who still clung to memories of places and people they were long gone from, but that's not quite her mood in bringing this up, now.
a markedly different tone than the one she used to complain to him about bede's preoccupation. thoughtful.
she tips her hand, takes a drink. ) She asked me if I loved him. I thought about what I'd have wanted, if you hadn't been here but your blondes were.
( what she'd have asked them. how much honesty she would want. )
[ This brings about an unbidden and unasked for pang, wholly disguised beneath the surface as he picks up his hot chocolate. The odd bitterness of alcohol and cocoa, the unnatural sweetness expressed by both, feels nostalgic, those rare permissions back then. He sips, thoughtfully, rather than respond right away.
It occurs to him that until Tsenka's arrival, there's been no one of the right privileged position that he could speak to about them, if the urge took him (a big if, even then).
[ There is an irrepressible start of something like a smile at the corner of his mouth, the kind of hidden subtlety only Tsenka might notice. Or only his roommates.
He looks down at his drink, and he nods. Yes. ]
It's been almost a year of the three of us, [ after a pause. ] When I started, I don't know that I thought it would last that way. But I don't know how things would be for me, here, without them both.
Lonelier, ( pointing at him with a finger lifted off of her mug. you can be fine and a bit lonely. tsenka is both, she thinks; well enough, or at least as well as can be expected, and still. not displeased by the prospect of company in her small home,
which is better than the gallows, but quieter, too. louder in different and less familiar ways. )
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I knew you would.
( she holds a mug out to him, and toes one of the over-sized cushions on the floor in his direction; the loft is too small for her to have considered anything like armchairs, the rug in front of the fire is plenty enough to sit on. nicer than some places they've sat together, in the past.
she sits, once he has his mug. pushes her sock feet as close to the hearth as they can safely get. says, ) I've found his sister. The one he was looking for.
( that, bede had not advertised so widely; tsenka veered back and forth between respecting the sentiment and sullenly complaining to marcus (and to him, when she wanted to be cruel) that they'd all lost family, and hadn't they got enough of it now? what could he possibly need with some ordinary woman who'd never know what they'd been through together, and might be dead? might have passed him on the road since, neither of them knowing. )
Jone, ( before he can either ask or actively lose interest in being told. ) The enormous sword woman. It's her.
no subject
He works at getting his boots off, having nodded to this news of a found sister and otherwise more interested in loosening a knot he'd apparently been more firm than necessary with in the tying.
But he does look up at that name, pausing over it. Yes, the enormous sword woman. ]
She seems hard to lose.
no subject
( it isn't a unique story; a pair of twins, children, parted by one touched by the fade and one not. one taken by templars, and one left to roam for her own fortunes. most mages in their circle, and every circle, had a story like it. knew a story like it.
tsenka doesn't remember her parents. marcus is her family, and marcus is enough for her. she had had, at best, limited patience with those who still clung to memories of places and people they were long gone from, but that's not quite her mood in bringing this up, now.
a markedly different tone than the one she used to complain to him about bede's preoccupation. thoughtful.
she tips her hand, takes a drink. ) She asked me if I loved him. I thought about what I'd have wanted, if you hadn't been here but your blondes were.
( what she'd have asked them. how much honesty she would want. )
no subject
It occurs to him that until Tsenka's arrival, there's been no one of the right privileged position that he could speak to about them, if the urge took him (a big if, even then).
But rather than follow that path too long— ]
The truth, I think. What did you tell her?
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( she holds her mug between both hands, her knees pulled up, leaning forward into them— )
Makes her feel, mm. More than nothing, less than family. ( a knife-fast smile, ) It feels like the punchline to a joke I hadn't known I was telling.
( and right in the gut, too.
her knees roll to one side. back again. restless. )
You love them? Your roommates.
( she knows you fuckin, marcus. )
no subject
He looks down at his drink, and he nods. Yes. ]
It's been almost a year of the three of us, [ after a pause. ] When I started, I don't know that I thought it would last that way. But I don't know how things would be for me, here, without them both.
no subject
which is better than the gallows, but quieter, too. louder in different and less familiar ways. )
How'd it come to be, you and them?