Enrion Varanil: (Enrion sees him reach for the knife. He thinks he should move, maybe reach back a hand for his axe (not his axe, just an axe, the best he could do on his own). But he doesn't move at all. Only thinks with surprising calm --
Enrion Varanil: ("Oh, he's going to kill me now." And following that thought, he wonders if it would matter. If maybe he should let Destro approach and maybe it would be better if he did slip that knife between Enrion's ribs. (Destro would be deft, and maybe not merciless, but it would be magnificent.) (He'd be with Eras.) (Which is better than alone.))
Enrion Varanil: (So he uncrosses his arms, awaiting the sudden burst of speed he knows Destro can effect, the sudden infliction of steel through his leather armor. And the knife does flash across the room - Enrion watches it catch the light from the window, follows its skittering progress once it hits the stones, neatly coming to rest at his feet.)
Enrion Varanil: (And stares at it, and wonders what that means. (He knows what that means.) (Destro shared his thought, maybe.) (That it would be better than-) (Or maybe it's a challenge. But Destro sounds only resigned.))
Enrion Varanil: (He stoops and collects the knife (this is Destro's favorite, his best-kept, and his just tossed it down to scrape on the floor. Then carefully examines it, and wipes the dirt from it with the soft cloth of his gloves. Shakes his head reproachfully.)
Enrion Varanil: (And, not yet ready to think about the last thing Destro said, he holds the knife by the blade and offers its hilt to the other man.)
Enrion Varanil: You're being dramatic.
Enrion Varanil: (He can't suppress the hint of. Amusement. (Fondness, hidden, mostly hidden, barely hidden.) Even if he feels terribly sad.)
Enrion Varanil: And that’s not why I came.
Destro Rubeno: (he glances briefly at the knife. (noted the care with which enrion retrieved the knife, brushed off the knife.) shifts his focus back to enrion's eyes. (at least there's that; at least he can see those eyes, even if he doesn't trust himself to read them now, or believe what he might see.) he doesn't move to take the knife. he doesn't. need it.
Destro Rubeno: and doesn't dare approach. (wants to. approach.) (the more the boy speaks, the harder it is to remain in place. the more his chest wells, heart begins to beat a pulsing surge.)
Destro Rubeno: (and oh, if that was amusement. if that was... any manner of. not-regret, not-sorrow. (if he can believe in that almost-could-be-fondness and hold onto it. carry that away when... the boy ends him, or leaves with finality.)
Destro Rubeno: (difficult not to feel another staggered trace-edge of (hope) (elation) could-be-relief. to hear the boy had reason in coming here. that it wasn't, maybe, to put a knife through destro's heart or draw a blade along his neck.)
Destro Rubeno: (to think, dimly, wretchedly, that what the boy says next might not be damning.)
Destro Rubeno: (and destro's hand settles against the side of his thigh, fingers loosly, scarcely tapping)
Destro Rubeno: isn't it?
Destro Rubeno: ...i'm 'being dramatic.' (he starts, voice staggered for a moment. then breathes, and--)
Destro Rubeno: says the mer in the mask and the darkened room.
Enrion Varanil: (Enrion frowns, feeling the mask tug at his face, and looks down at the still-outstretched hand, the knife still in that hand. He lowers it, then looks around aimlessly for somewhere to set it. The sofa that's too close to Destro, or the table that's too far from Destro. He decides to simply put it back down - gently - on the floor.)
Enrion Varanil: (He thinks about saying the room's only dark because the windows don't let in much light, and he's masked because. Well, because... Of that man right there.)
Enrion Varanil: (He straightens and rubs his hands on his thighs, deciding to focus on the salient (sally ent) (salient) point.)
Enrion Varanil: (Maybe it would be better if he had come to kill Destro. It might have been kinder. He hadn't thought that what he's about to ask would be an unkindness. He hadn't thought Destro would care at all.)
Enrion Varanil: The ring I gave you.
Enrion Varanil: (It's a question, gentle - almost a plea.)
Enrion Varanil: It - um
Enrion Varanil: It was my brother's.
Enrion Varanil: (Was. His breath staggers, because oh, was. And he gave it to this man, who lied. He'd been so willing to trade Eras's memory for. Nothing, maybe. A trick of fate.)
Enrion Varanil: I need it.
Enrion Varanil: (In his life. In his sight. Day by day, existing as part of his own existence. It was all right when it was on Destro's hand and Destro was there every moment.)
Enrion Varanil: (Softly (brokenly) (helplessly), with a little lift of his shoulders, he repeats himself.)
Enrion Varanil: He's gone, too. So - I need it.
Destro Rubeno: (how many times can the world fall away.)
Destro Rubeno: (how many times can his knowing turn to blankness, his chest turn numb and dizzied, his hold on presence slip staggered?)
Destro Rubeno: ((the last time this happened. he watched the stone floor the space between the stones the stones untrod and always to ring cold. sign nothing. sing reminders of what was.))
Destro Rubeno: ((the last time this happened, he came to himself only barely, with the morning's light weakly entering. he on his knees, one had clutched at his chest, the other flat against stone.))
Destro Rubeno: (he can't let himself spiral off again, not now. with enrion here (he can't, he CAN'T miss the boy, what might be his last chance of seeing... the boy) (his ring) (the boy's ring) (...the boy's... brother's... ring)
Destro Rubeno: (at his side, his fingers draw together. he feels the ring without running a finger across it. has felt the ring at every waking moment, as if a natural part of himself, as if a part of himself he knows he shouldn't keep, has no right to keep, but never for a moment thought to relinquish.)
Destro Rubeno: (he can't-- enrion can't--)
Destro Rubeno: (his brother's ring, he said. he needs it, he said. why he came back here. (a retrieval mission. hoping perhaps to find the ring waiting in a corner, discarded on a shelf.))
Destro Rubeno: ((had the boy intended to slip in and slip away, without a sign. (another choked sensation at that.) (another act for which he couldn't blame the boy.))
Destro Rubeno: (it's the boy's right, if he wants it. having given the ring, having been failed. been. betrayed by destro. the ring is his right, of course.)
Destro Rubeno: (and destro doesn't precisely hear himself when he speaks, doesn't recognize that thought's slipped into speech--) you can't...
Destro Rubeno: (his fingers folding tighter, not a fist but a shield, as if it could help a thing.)
Destro Rubeno: ...enrion.
Destro Rubeno: (that word.)
Destro Rubeno: (it's that word, the sound and sensation of the boy's name in his voice in his throat, that shakes him enough to blink, to glance siddeways, then back to enrion.)
Destro Rubeno: (to feel, for a moment, as if he can breathe, must breathe.)
Destro Rubeno: (to feel the urgency in this situation. the moment slipping past.)
Destro Rubeno: (to think, clearly: i have this one chance, maybe.)
Destro Rubeno: (and the maybe is enough.)
Destro Rubeno: (he doesn't make it to enrion. the room is too long, the boy's presence too staggering. but he moves without staggering, moves quietly and with purpose (Feels almost, almost a little less ulike himself, or the self he's known himself to be.))
Destro Rubeno: (easier to see the boy's eyes from here. (harder to see the mask and feel the soul-deep wish to see it cast aside. just once. just this once. one more time, if destro can't... mend this.)
Destro Rubeno: (and though his voice still feels hollow when he speaks, it's less hushed, bolstered by edges of what could be confidence, for all he can't quite feel.)
Destro Rubeno: enrion, please.
Destro Rubeno: can we... talk.
Destro Rubeno: there are things i...
Destro Rubeno: if you would. first. please.
Enrion Varanil: (He doesn't know what he's going to do if Destro refuses to give the ring back. He hadn't. Thought. Destro would refuse. (Just as he hadn't thought that Destro had taken it off.) Now, confronted with the likelihood of being told 'no', Enrion realizes with a sinking, leaden feeling that -)
Enrion Varanil: (There's nothing he can do. Destro, perhaps spitefully (perhaps something else), could refuse, and he wouldn't. He would never. Hurt Destro over a ring, no matter whose ring it had been.)
Enrion Varanil: (It's another betrayal, that 'you can't', and Enrion's glad for the mask. He's glad Destro can't see the hurt he's causing. (He has over the past weeks determined that it's possible, very possible, that Destro likes inflicting misery on Enrion. That his crying received no comfort because Destro enjoyed the sight of it.))
Enrion Varanil: ((He's not sure he believes this to be true.))
Enrion Varanil: ((He still doesn't want Destro reading his expression.))
Enrion Varanil: (He tenses a little, his head raising, eyes going with it to focus on (Daddy) Destro's at the sound of his name. (It sounds.) (So good.) (Oh, it sounds so good.) (He missed his own name so much.) (He missed his own name on Destro's tongue.) (And other names.)
Enrion Varanil: (His lungs don't quite work, and he's gone dizzy, he always goes dizzy for this man, because Destro might not love him, but oh, Enrion's got it bad. It's this momentary slip that allows Destro to near without Enrion backing away; he only crosses his arms to hide his own unsteadiness.)
Enrion Varanil: (He wants to talk. His letter said the same thing. Enrion thinks of the paper, carefully (lovingly) folded and stowed in his pocket, and wonders what there is that could possibly be said.)
Enrion Varanil: (His silence permeates the room for a moment too long while he thinks this over, and then -)
Enrion Varanil: We can talk. But after - please. It means a lot to me. That's why I gave it to you.
Enrion Varanil: (His voice breaks, and it doesn't matter if he's wearing a mask or not; Destro's sure to know now.)
Enrion Varanil: Because you're the. You were. The first one since him to mean anything. So you have to give it back.
Destro Rubeno: (fuck. fuck, he--)
Destro Rubeno: (the words themselves and that tell-tale vocal shuddering. the silence before speech and the way it's shattered, it's--)
Destro Rubeno: (he.)
Destro Rubeno: (if he thinks about any of this.)
Destro Rubeno: (if he lets himself fall into the feeling.)
Destro Rubeno: (he'll lose certainty. lose that knotting in his chest that urges him toward... speaking, if not acting.)
Destro Rubeno: (toward reaching through this mess.)
Destro Rubeno: (what destro knows: it's a mercy that the boy is will to... listen. talk. endure this space that's so clearly levelling discomfort.)
Destro Rubeno: ((he didn't. he doesn't. he still doesn't want to be gone. and again destro feels a deep-striking knife, awareness of how badly he'd wounded this boy who cared. who. cares. for him.)
Destro Rubeno: (so don't dwell on the pain on it. don't consider what he might or ought to say. only... feel his way through this, aware of the boy's shaken voice aware of the ring aware of his own insubstantial self.)
Destro Rubeno: (he nods, once, evenly.)
Destro Rubeno: (...not quite evenly, perhaps. blinks, and blinks. and)
Destro Rubeno: yes.
Destro Rubeno: i-- if that's. how you feel. what you wish, what you need, after.
Destro Rubeno: i won't stand in your way.
Destro Rubeno: i've erred too much already. 'transgression' is scarcely a word for what i've--
Destro Rubeno: (unknowingly, he moves his right hand to cover his left, to press carefully)
Destro Rubeno: enrion. you are the only person who's meant a thing to me. (glancing sideways, blinking, because the force of what he's saying is... oh, not insubstantial. because the pit below his opens wider, deeper, cut with glass and his own venom)
Destro Rubeno: little right as i have to say it.
Destro Rubeno: badly as i've--
Destro Rubeno: (again, blinking, again, glancing aside, hand clamping quiet over his own hand)
Enrion Varanil: Destro.
Enrion Varanil: (The word shocks him to immediate silence, because it's so ill-used, so far from him, but it's a language he remembers with nostalgia, with aching homesickness. (And Destro's hand over his other hand, hiding the ring or protecting it, that means something. It means something very important.))
Enrion Varanil: (His voice has no accusation or reproach, but there's a hardening edge - like hurt. Because it shouldn't have taken all this:)
Enrion Varanil: You don't have a right not to say it.
Enrion Varanil: You didn't have a right not to say it that night, either. You should have started with that to me, and to your brother.
Enrion Varanil: If it's the truth.
Destro Rubeno: (his name.)
Destro Rubeno: (that sound alone could knock him loose from this resolve; letting it wrap around him, holding desperately to it, to the exclusion of all else. (he's missed that voice.) (he's missed his name.) (of course he has; he knows this.) (and it isn't the fucking point.))
Destro Rubeno: ...
Destro Rubeno: that's true, enrion.
Destro Rubeno: (true and thoring. true and choking blood from his heart.)
Destro Rubeno: i have... i offer no excuse for himself.
Destro Rubeno: (again looking to the side, again clutching his fist, and against, looking back, finding the boy once more.)
Destro Rubeno: of course i care for you.
Destro Rubeno: ...but you know that, don't you?
Destro Rubeno: (just gonna. unwrap his hands. find himself looking down at his left.)
Destro Rubeno: (fingers flexing in and out, head cocked, half as if musing, mostly trying, trying to capture words that might serve.)
Destro Rubeno: it was a betrayal. you'll believe me, perhaps, when i tell you i felt it... and you'll know that for all of that feeling, i didn't alter my course.
Destro Rubeno: it was cowardly. i was cowardly. you are...
Destro Rubeno: i've spoken with silvanus since.
Destro Rubeno: (only that isn't the point. only that begins to feel like evasion, and he shakes his head once, finds enrion's eyes again)
Destro Rubeno: i am unaccustomed to sharing my... vulnerabilities. or my self. to the interfering world.
Destro Rubeno: but.
Destro Rubeno: you are nothing to be hidden. to be stashed away.
Destro Rubeno: i regret what i said. and i... could stand to alter some measure of my ways.
Destro Rubeno: i would. like to.
Destro Rubeno: i'm sorry, enrion.
Destro Rubeno: i am not---
Destro Rubeno: it is not well, without you.
no subject
Enrion Varanil: ("Oh, he's going to kill me now." And following that thought, he wonders if it would matter. If maybe he should let Destro approach and maybe it would be better if he did slip that knife between Enrion's ribs. (Destro would be deft, and maybe not merciless, but it would be magnificent.) (He'd be with Eras.) (Which is better than alone.))
Enrion Varanil: (So he uncrosses his arms, awaiting the sudden burst of speed he knows Destro can effect, the sudden infliction of steel through his leather armor. And the knife does flash across the room - Enrion watches it catch the light from the window, follows its skittering progress once it hits the stones, neatly coming to rest at his feet.)
Enrion Varanil: (And stares at it, and wonders what that means. (He knows what that means.) (Destro shared his thought, maybe.) (That it would be better than-) (Or maybe it's a challenge. But Destro sounds only resigned.))
Enrion Varanil: (He stoops and collects the knife (this is Destro's favorite, his best-kept, and his just tossed it down to scrape on the floor. Then carefully examines it, and wipes the dirt from it with the soft cloth of his gloves. Shakes his head reproachfully.)
Enrion Varanil: (And, not yet ready to think about the last thing Destro said, he holds the knife by the blade and offers its hilt to the other man.)
Enrion Varanil: You're being dramatic.
Enrion Varanil: (He can't suppress the hint of. Amusement. (Fondness, hidden, mostly hidden, barely hidden.) Even if he feels terribly sad.)
Enrion Varanil: And that’s not why I came.
Destro Rubeno: (he glances briefly at the knife. (noted the care with which enrion retrieved the knife, brushed off the knife.) shifts his focus back to enrion's eyes. (at least there's that; at least he can see those eyes, even if he doesn't trust himself to read them now, or believe what he might see.) he doesn't move to take the knife. he doesn't. need it.
Destro Rubeno: and doesn't dare approach. (wants to. approach.) (the more the boy speaks, the harder it is to remain in place. the more his chest wells, heart begins to beat a pulsing surge.)
Destro Rubeno: (and oh, if that was amusement. if that was... any manner of. not-regret, not-sorrow. (if he can believe in that almost-could-be-fondness and hold onto it. carry that away when... the boy ends him, or leaves with finality.)
Destro Rubeno: (difficult not to feel another staggered trace-edge of (hope) (elation) could-be-relief. to hear the boy had reason in coming here. that it wasn't, maybe, to put a knife through destro's heart or draw a blade along his neck.)
Destro Rubeno: (to think, dimly, wretchedly, that what the boy says next might not be damning.)
Destro Rubeno: (and destro's hand settles against the side of his thigh, fingers loosly, scarcely tapping)
Destro Rubeno: isn't it?
Destro Rubeno: ...i'm 'being dramatic.' (he starts, voice staggered for a moment. then breathes, and--)
Destro Rubeno: says the mer in the mask and the darkened room.
Enrion Varanil: (Enrion frowns, feeling the mask tug at his face, and looks down at the still-outstretched hand, the knife still in that hand. He lowers it, then looks around aimlessly for somewhere to set it. The sofa that's too close to Destro, or the table that's too far from Destro. He decides to simply put it back down - gently - on the floor.)
Enrion Varanil: (He thinks about saying the room's only dark because the windows don't let in much light, and he's masked because. Well, because... Of that man right there.)
Enrion Varanil: (He straightens and rubs his hands on his thighs, deciding to focus on the salient (sally ent) (salient) point.)
Enrion Varanil: (Maybe it would be better if he had come to kill Destro. It might have been kinder. He hadn't thought that what he's about to ask would be an unkindness. He hadn't thought Destro would care at all.)
Enrion Varanil: The ring I gave you.
Enrion Varanil: (It's a question, gentle - almost a plea.)
Enrion Varanil: It - um
Enrion Varanil: It was my brother's.
Enrion Varanil: (Was. His breath staggers, because oh, was. And he gave it to this man, who lied. He'd been so willing to trade Eras's memory for. Nothing, maybe. A trick of fate.)
Enrion Varanil: I need it.
Enrion Varanil: (In his life. In his sight. Day by day, existing as part of his own existence. It was all right when it was on Destro's hand and Destro was there every moment.)
Enrion Varanil: (Softly (brokenly) (helplessly), with a little lift of his shoulders, he repeats himself.)
Enrion Varanil: He's gone, too. So - I need it.
Destro Rubeno: (how many times can the world fall away.)
Destro Rubeno: (how many times can his knowing turn to blankness, his chest turn numb and dizzied, his hold on presence slip staggered?)
Destro Rubeno: ((the last time this happened. he watched the stone floor the space between the stones the stones untrod and always to ring cold. sign nothing. sing reminders of what was.))
Destro Rubeno: ((the last time this happened, he came to himself only barely, with the morning's light weakly entering. he on his knees, one had clutched at his chest, the other flat against stone.))
Destro Rubeno: (he can't let himself spiral off again, not now. with enrion here (he can't, he CAN'T miss the boy, what might be his last chance of seeing... the boy) (his ring) (the boy's ring) (...the boy's... brother's... ring)
Destro Rubeno: (at his side, his fingers draw together. he feels the ring without running a finger across it. has felt the ring at every waking moment, as if a natural part of himself, as if a part of himself he knows he shouldn't keep, has no right to keep, but never for a moment thought to relinquish.)
Destro Rubeno: (he can't-- enrion can't--)
Destro Rubeno: (his brother's ring, he said. he needs it, he said. why he came back here. (a retrieval mission. hoping perhaps to find the ring waiting in a corner, discarded on a shelf.))
Destro Rubeno: ((had the boy intended to slip in and slip away, without a sign. (another choked sensation at that.) (another act for which he couldn't blame the boy.))
Destro Rubeno: (it's the boy's right, if he wants it. having given the ring, having been failed. been. betrayed by destro. the ring is his right, of course.)
Destro Rubeno: (and destro doesn't precisely hear himself when he speaks, doesn't recognize that thought's slipped into speech--) you can't...
Destro Rubeno: (his fingers folding tighter, not a fist but a shield, as if it could help a thing.)
Destro Rubeno: ...enrion.
Destro Rubeno: (that word.)
Destro Rubeno: (it's that word, the sound and sensation of the boy's name in his voice in his throat, that shakes him enough to blink, to glance siddeways, then back to enrion.)
Destro Rubeno: (to feel, for a moment, as if he can breathe, must breathe.)
Destro Rubeno: (to feel the urgency in this situation. the moment slipping past.)
Destro Rubeno: (to think, clearly: i have this one chance, maybe.)
Destro Rubeno: (and the maybe is enough.)
Destro Rubeno: (he doesn't make it to enrion. the room is too long, the boy's presence too staggering. but he moves without staggering, moves quietly and with purpose (Feels almost, almost a little less ulike himself, or the self he's known himself to be.))
Destro Rubeno: (easier to see the boy's eyes from here. (harder to see the mask and feel the soul-deep wish to see it cast aside. just once. just this once. one more time, if destro can't... mend this.)
Destro Rubeno: (and though his voice still feels hollow when he speaks, it's less hushed, bolstered by edges of what could be confidence, for all he can't quite feel.)
Destro Rubeno: enrion, please.
Destro Rubeno: can we... talk.
Destro Rubeno: there are things i...
Destro Rubeno: if you would. first. please.
Enrion Varanil: (He doesn't know what he's going to do if Destro refuses to give the ring back. He hadn't. Thought. Destro would refuse. (Just as he hadn't thought that Destro had taken it off.) Now, confronted with the likelihood of being told 'no', Enrion realizes with a sinking, leaden feeling that -)
Enrion Varanil: (There's nothing he can do. Destro, perhaps spitefully (perhaps something else), could refuse, and he wouldn't. He would never. Hurt Destro over a ring, no matter whose ring it had been.)
Enrion Varanil: (It's another betrayal, that 'you can't', and Enrion's glad for the mask. He's glad Destro can't see the hurt he's causing. (He has over the past weeks determined that it's possible, very possible, that Destro likes inflicting misery on Enrion. That his crying received no comfort because Destro enjoyed the sight of it.))
Enrion Varanil: ((He's not sure he believes this to be true.))
Enrion Varanil: ((He still doesn't want Destro reading his expression.))
Enrion Varanil: (He tenses a little, his head raising, eyes going with it to focus on (Daddy) Destro's at the sound of his name. (It sounds.) (So good.) (Oh, it sounds so good.) (He missed his own name so much.) (He missed his own name on Destro's tongue.) (And other names.)
Enrion Varanil: (His lungs don't quite work, and he's gone dizzy, he always goes dizzy for this man, because Destro might not love him, but oh, Enrion's got it bad. It's this momentary slip that allows Destro to near without Enrion backing away; he only crosses his arms to hide his own unsteadiness.)
Enrion Varanil: (He wants to talk. His letter said the same thing. Enrion thinks of the paper, carefully (lovingly) folded and stowed in his pocket, and wonders what there is that could possibly be said.)
Enrion Varanil: (His silence permeates the room for a moment too long while he thinks this over, and then -)
Enrion Varanil: We can talk. But after - please. It means a lot to me. That's why I gave it to you.
Enrion Varanil: (His voice breaks, and it doesn't matter if he's wearing a mask or not; Destro's sure to know now.)
Enrion Varanil: Because you're the. You were. The first one since him to mean anything. So you have to give it back.
Destro Rubeno: (fuck. fuck, he--)
Destro Rubeno: (the words themselves and that tell-tale vocal shuddering. the silence before speech and the way it's shattered, it's--)
Destro Rubeno: (he.)
Destro Rubeno: (if he thinks about any of this.)
Destro Rubeno: (if he lets himself fall into the feeling.)
Destro Rubeno: (he'll lose certainty. lose that knotting in his chest that urges him toward... speaking, if not acting.)
Destro Rubeno: (toward reaching through this mess.)
Destro Rubeno: (what destro knows: it's a mercy that the boy is will to... listen. talk. endure this space that's so clearly levelling discomfort.)
Destro Rubeno: ((he didn't. he doesn't. he still doesn't want to be gone. and again destro feels a deep-striking knife, awareness of how badly he'd wounded this boy who cared. who. cares. for him.)
Destro Rubeno: (so don't dwell on the pain on it. don't consider what he might or ought to say. only... feel his way through this, aware of the boy's shaken voice aware of the ring aware of his own insubstantial self.)
Destro Rubeno: (he nods, once, evenly.)
Destro Rubeno: (...not quite evenly, perhaps. blinks, and blinks. and)
Destro Rubeno: yes.
Destro Rubeno: i-- if that's. how you feel. what you wish, what you need, after.
Destro Rubeno: i won't stand in your way.
Destro Rubeno: i've erred too much already. 'transgression' is scarcely a word for what i've--
Destro Rubeno: (unknowingly, he moves his right hand to cover his left, to press carefully)
Destro Rubeno: enrion. you are the only person who's meant a thing to me. (glancing sideways, blinking, because the force of what he's saying is... oh, not insubstantial. because the pit below his opens wider, deeper, cut with glass and his own venom)
Destro Rubeno: little right as i have to say it.
Destro Rubeno: badly as i've--
Destro Rubeno: (again, blinking, again, glancing aside, hand clamping quiet over his own hand)
Enrion Varanil: Destro.
Enrion Varanil: (The word shocks him to immediate silence, because it's so ill-used, so far from him, but it's a language he remembers with nostalgia, with aching homesickness. (And Destro's hand over his other hand, hiding the ring or protecting it, that means something. It means something very important.))
Enrion Varanil: (His voice has no accusation or reproach, but there's a hardening edge - like hurt. Because it shouldn't have taken all this:)
Enrion Varanil: You don't have a right not to say it.
Enrion Varanil: You didn't have a right not to say it that night, either. You should have started with that to me, and to your brother.
Enrion Varanil: If it's the truth.
Destro Rubeno: (his name.)
Destro Rubeno: (that sound alone could knock him loose from this resolve; letting it wrap around him, holding desperately to it, to the exclusion of all else. (he's missed that voice.) (he's missed his name.) (of course he has; he knows this.) (and it isn't the fucking point.))
Destro Rubeno: ...
Destro Rubeno: that's true, enrion.
Destro Rubeno: (true and thoring. true and choking blood from his heart.)
Destro Rubeno: i have... i offer no excuse for himself.
Destro Rubeno: (again looking to the side, again clutching his fist, and against, looking back, finding the boy once more.)
Destro Rubeno: of course i care for you.
Destro Rubeno: ...but you know that, don't you?
Destro Rubeno: (just gonna. unwrap his hands. find himself looking down at his left.)
Destro Rubeno: (fingers flexing in and out, head cocked, half as if musing, mostly trying, trying to capture words that might serve.)
Destro Rubeno: it was a betrayal. you'll believe me, perhaps, when i tell you i felt it... and you'll know that for all of that feeling, i didn't alter my course.
Destro Rubeno: it was cowardly. i was cowardly. you are...
Destro Rubeno: i've spoken with silvanus since.
Destro Rubeno: (only that isn't the point. only that begins to feel like evasion, and he shakes his head once, finds enrion's eyes again)
Destro Rubeno: i am unaccustomed to sharing my... vulnerabilities. or my self. to the interfering world.
Destro Rubeno: but.
Destro Rubeno: you are nothing to be hidden. to be stashed away.
Destro Rubeno: i regret what i said. and i... could stand to alter some measure of my ways.
Destro Rubeno: i would. like to.
Destro Rubeno: i'm sorry, enrion.
Destro Rubeno: i am not---
Destro Rubeno: it is not well, without you.