smash_logs | Don't eat the food.

Who: Zelda, Soryk
When: Nov. 23 - Early Evening
What: Soryk's doing some careful observation and is like to come across a most unexpected surprise. Plans don't always go as... well. Planned.
Where: Zelda's Quarters - AE02b
Warnings: TBD - PROBABLY NOT.

Things are going as I imagined they would, Soryk thought as he tapped the bottom of his chin with some thought.

Caught in the wall mirror by his entryway, he simply stared for several moments, lost in a plethora of contemplation. It was true. As he had planned, things were slowly beginning. Something the way that a ball of snow could start out small and as it rolled along it grew larger. He didn't expect overnight results, but considering the amount of time so far, he had to admit he was a little impressed with himself. And as long as no one died, it'd continue to be perfect.

But in the back of his mind, a nagging thought continued to disrupt him. He had given no warnings to people who likely deserved them. Zelda. Randall. Vianca. Perhaps other members of the staff. Not that he had a great list of those he wanted to protect. There were just a few, admittedly, and considering their eating habits, it was entirely possible that the wrong person ate or drank the wrong thing.

Lady Zelda never requires me to come save her. But all the same... Yet if something happened to her, I could not face myself properly. I have found her, after all. I cannot lose her so soon.

In haste, he crossed the academy grounds and near breathless stopped only when he was at her door. Even in the midst of still trying to put his composure back together, he knocked thrice, loud enough to relay a slight frantic nature.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Of course she was doing it deliberately--and Zelda was fairly certain he realized that. It wasn't enough, however, to get her to stop. She was zeroing in on an insecurity, which meant that she had to press onward.

"So...you plan to stay, and yet you tell me this place isn't fitting for me, that I would be better suited to courtly life."

It wasn't said with any hint of being offended, in fact, there was a wry smile on her face.

She was ruining him. That was what she was doing. At least that was what he was convinced she was doing. And it wasn't like he could argue with her because to be honest, he didn't want to. Soryk had never watched himself so carefully with someone before, and he knew that—among other things—implied a plethora of sentiments that he typically wanted to keep to himself.

"To a court, you would be radiant," he explained. "If I visited a noble court on a standard routine with you, your absence would make my very life in court a far more bleak one. A court deserves its shine."

Soryk cleared his throat and he shifted just enough to cross a leg over the other, just to give himself something to do. He didn't need to say it, but he was pretty sure he got it across that if Zelda was light, he was definitely darkness and nothing was lost if he didn't visit his own noble courts he'd left behind.

She laughed--when she had been young, in the court, she'd been doted on. Dressed elegantly and told what a wonderful queen she'd make some day. When she'd grown a little older, the sheer weight of that responsibility became more and more realized. At the school, she could delay this.

Hearing Soryk say this, however, was more than satisfying. She resolved to go a bit easier on him--after one last question.

"What is it you're saying, then?"

Of all questions she could have asked him, Soryk wasn't quite expecting something so pointed and direct. True, that Zelda had never quite seemed the sort to dance around, which was something he appreciated. Atê had constantly been tugging him back and forth, never giving a straight answer on anything, and it'd irritated him plenty. And if he'd been roundabout prior to her, he certainly wasn't as their relationship progressed.

He refrained from anything transparent, like wringing his hands, or looking away. He settled for, instead, straightening out the cuffs of his doublet and underlying tunic. "Ah..."

Soryk cycled through the possibilities of his words and he finally opted for a form of truth. Perhaps it was time for him to stop being subtle or for him to stop denying his own sentiments. But putting it all into words was far more complicated.

"That... though you may be fitting more in court, your joy is more important and you ought to be where you are most comfortable and pleased. And that I..." With a great tentative nature, he reached over in hopes of taking her closest hand to hold between his. "...should wish to not only bask in your prosperity, but that I may also contribute to it. If you would allow me the privilege of doing so."

Zelda leaned over the side of the bed and puked into the trash can.

~~"Watch where you do that! You almost hit my Vera Wangs!"~~

It wasn't the worst reaction he could think of. And at least he knew she wasn't feeling well, so it wasn't like she was throwing up at the thought of him. ~~Or so he believed.~~ But it still threw him through a loop because he didn't know how to respond immediately.

So he let her throw up as long as she needed to and as she did so, he carefully scooped up her hair that was almost like vibrant spun gold, just so it wouldn't get in her way. And he decided that such a line of conversation could be pursued later. At a time when she wasn't throwing up. Because she couldn't concentrate and admittedly, any romanticism he'd held in those moments quickly diminished.

"I will find something soothing for you to take," he found himself saying, though he hardly knew if she heard him or not. "Do not strain yourself too much, my lady."

Edited 2015-01-14 19:57 (UTC)

fuck your vera wang

WELL now everything was ruined. Zelda spent a few more moments heaving into the trash can before complete and total embarrassment set in. She leaned back on her pillows and groaned, hands in front of her face.

"Soryk, I'm--so sorry, oh--"

If she could have crawled somewhere to die, she certainly would have.

"Your shoes..."

Truth... be told, Soryk was a little more than surprised to even hear an apology. She didn't know he was behind her illness, but he did. She didn't know all kinds of things about him and while she was an engima wrapped in infinite mystery herself, he really had it coming. And if it hadn't been Zelda, chances were he would have been absolutely furious.

Livid, even. He could just picture his reaction to Atê doing something of the same. And he was the one to ask for her hand. And he still just vaguely tolerated her inappropriate behaviour. Such as... throwing up. (But never of anything save too much ale.) Hardly. Zelda was a lot easier for him to handle, in retrospect.

"It—" And he didn't know what to say. So once she righted herself somewhat, he carefully reached down to unlace his boots to the best of his ability without getting his hands caught in anything that he wanted to avoid. "Not that I have ever given much faith to Divine Providence, but it is entirely possible that I deserved that."

Fully possible, he corrected himself with an inner venom.

Removing his other boot, he immediately looked around her room, "...Wash room?" Soryk asked her. "I can clean this up and get you some more water." And at some later point in time, he could clean up his boots too.

"I don't think anyone deserves to be vomited on."

It was out before she could stop herself (much like the vomit), and she wondered what that said about her current perception of him.

Zelda swallowed and nodded, still too mortified to do much. She puked on his shoes, and he was offering to get her water. "Water. Would be nice."

He wanted to argue. He really, truly, earnestly did. But as it had seemed several times in the past, Zelda was good at making him hold his tongue. And most of the time, it was because what he was trying to create with her was something so important to him (surprisingly) that he had no want to destroy it so soon. Or ever, if he was going to at least be honest with himself about it.

Soryk was quick to rise to his feet and wander back off toward her bathroom where he tried to put himself together. Sure, the vomit was an issue. Likely unforgettable, but was that really such a bad thing? He'd have to take the boots to a proper cleaner for he doubted he had such an interest in touching just such a thing. It wasn't like he didn't have some coin on him, after all.

Perhaps Zelda would be mortified about it forever, something he couldn't fault her for, though she hadn't really done anything wrong. Or again, anything he didn't feel he deserved. Things were what they were, however. No use in weeping over offered vomit.

When he returned, he extended a slightly over half full glass. "What else may I get for you?" Food. Drink. A pillow. She would know what she wanted or needed more than he would have.

Don't eat the food.

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i was going to write you an actual real tag but no i think this is it

...... I STILL CAN'T STOP LAUGHING ABOUT THIS.

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