song_tra_bong | (no subject)

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After visiting Gorlim in the infirmary, she made her way outside, wandering slowly towards the lake. She's still sore from her fight with Martin, but the walking keeps things from tensing up. Besides, she could use the space to breathe.

It's been a hell of a last few days.

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I would find what you will not share.

She flinches, mentally and physically at the suggestion, even as she knows he wouldn't follow through.

She watches what he shows her, unable and unwilling to turn away as she remembers scattered moments of her own.

his voice in her ear an elbow in her gut left her wanting she left red hair a curtain of red hair rain and the memory of yellow eyes and NO blue eyes so blue you are wanted he kissed her before he left and he was kissing her too before you NO a hand around her throat but you love him even through the siren song of mist and wraith teeth in her shoulder and blood and claws and blood and you will die here only not yet he loves you still will smile will laugh with you because he doesn't know and it's so much better this way when you hatefear him when you don't know him and it's Roger only blue eyes and before that the door and the jungle and the boys her boys and her boy only her boy his name was Mark and he told you he loved you--

The bond breaks and she gasps for breath, clawing slightly at her hair as if at cobwebs stuck there. The silence in her head is almost as unbearable now as the noise of moments ago. She's too busy readjusting to answer him.

"The silence is deafening," he murmurs. "When I walked into that infirmary, the silence drove me to look."

He looks at the water.

"A woman so sought after may not be able to understand... Gorlim is not the only one who has loved me, but he is the most important, the most treasured..."

"Wouldn't have looked," she manages.

"All that quiet would have told me to steer fucking clear."

She laughs and the sound isn't precisely sane. "Sought after...there's a word for it. Along with 'ignored,' 'hated' and 'betrayer.'"

She lifts her head, eyes regaining a spark of their normal fire. "He so important to you, then what the hell are you doing out here?"

"He told me to go away," he says tiredly. "He told me to leave, and do I did."

Námo was the kind who took everyone at their word. Gorlim told him to go, and Námo went.

Mary Anne is, for better or worse, the exact opposite. You can tell her to go until you're blue in the face; in the end, you'll have to drag her out and she'll claw every inch of the way.

"Do you think he should be alone in there right now?" It's clear from her tone that she doesn't.

"No, but that does not mean he will welcome me."

He wraps his arms around himself.

"Besides, Malcolm gave him something. Gorlim will not notice my absence or my company."

"Just because he won't notice doesn't mean he won't appreciate it."

Pause.

"Doesn't mean it's not the right thing to do."

Námo clenches his jaw.

Then he sighs.

"Right and wrong."

He stares at her for a long time, then turns on his heel and heads toward the bar.

"Right and wrong."

Right and wrong.

She's the last to claim she can always tell the difference.

But she knows he needs to be with Gorlim now.

And she needs to be out here.

The bar is a little to noisy for her at the moment.

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