[ as ever, he is patient and listens. even after all of everything he's been through today, temenos can so easily turn on the mode of cleric, and nodd clearly needs it - he's distressed, and for that, temenos excels.
so he listens, hands folded around his teacup, gaze thoughtful but not judging. observing, watching those little reactions. there's a painful honesty to it, gestures like squeezed hands, a sense of something stuttering that can be at odds with someone who is so bold and usually brash. ]
... I don't have to tell you again that I don't need it or want it. [ protection. that he doesn't like being treated that way - that he is not delicate or fragile, and he especially isn't now that he has his magic back. spotty as it may be, he is a cannon of a cleric. aelfric's chosen, for whatever that's worth.
however. ]
Nor do I have any interest in your injury at my behest. [ just like it was with dion, all those weeks ago. ] I understand how it feels, to feel like it is futile, or that things are out of your control.
[ but my god, hasn't temenos lost enough? he has been protected. three times, now. roi - desperately fleeing flamechurch with the darkblood bow, to what led to his death (and what temenos now knows, to five years of what must have been torture). the pontiff, who didn't tell him of the moonshade order's ministrations until nearly five years after they were initially discovered, so desperate to keep temenos protected from its darkness.
and crick wellsley, sworn to his godsblade, dying on a bitterly cold night in stormhail to try and help temenos find the truth.
he's so tired of it.
he coughs. just once, covering his mouth with his hand. the petals are hard to see, deftly turned into a sleeve so they're not visible - just the faintest hint of sky blue before they're gone. ]
... it is not so catastrophic or grandiose, Nodd. There are still things to be done. [ as he holds the teacup in his hands, he lifts it, slightly. ] This is still something. It is not all lost and worth misery, because you didn't bleed across a slaughterhouse or tap first with a healing gun that hardly works.
[ if it were up to temenos, nodd supposes nobody would worry too much about him. same could be said of shoma or keith or charles. even io had to open his big mouth and snap at nodd for picking the wrong body to give his baby-heals. since glossed over, since made whole, but the point is everyone wants to be so strong and seen as capable. they want everyone else to be put back together first.
nodd, too, surely. but maybe not with the same noble thoughts.
he listens to temenos words for selfish reasons. because his cadence is soothing. because he heard it once from a much closer distance and enjoyed the experience. ]
When I went on the mission with Amalthea, my room was that memory you saw. The slaughter. I think I told you it was my mistake--trusting--wanting the wrong boy. Rosie and Yuri, they got the wrong impression. Thought I'd been with the guy. No. He, uh. Preferred ladies.
[ breathing because sometimes that's all you have is the in and out. ]
I let someone I knew didn't see me as more than a very, very efficient tool give me a new life and then take it away. This was after I ran away from school--my mother, really. Because I couldn't make her--I couldn't work things out there, either.
[ squeezing hands until his fingers are turning paler with the pressure ]
So, if I can't do anything for someone, I have the tendency of running away.
[ oh, the backstory connection... his eyebrows raise, but temenos listens as ever, unjudgemental and listening, observant.
it explains some things - pieces click into place, and he takes the long moment between to sip from his tea, so prepare himself to continue to talk, and to take down everything he's said properly. dissect it, understand it. nothing escapes mine eyes, he'd said, and such is the case.
and eventually... he asks, almost mildly: ] And what would you consider this to be, right now?
[ i know you're at a concert but this is important so get tagged, idiot.
anyway.
that long moment is peaceful and agonizing in equal turn. it's an excellent time to breathe and evaluate just what idiocy he spewed at a man recovering from egregious injury. ]
Gluing my feet to the floor for a minute to see how you're faring. Congenial selfishness. I get to see you, you get to see me rustled.
[ an action, taken. ] Coming to check in. Hardly things that have no merit.
I don't enjoy being coddled, yet, I don't feel so at the moment. [ which is so true - in fact, he got a little frustrated at someone else earlier for trying to do just that. but this, this is fine - welcome, even, for a quiet presence.
he regards nodd a moment longer. ] In this instance, who gets to decide the weight and worth of your actions? You? Or I?
I don't see why I should deny either of us having a say.
[ calmer, hearing that he hasn't annoyed temenos. some other time, that could be spicy and fun, but today the inquisitor and mission crew need to heal as much as they can before moving to the ballroom. if nodd posed a threat to that, he'd remove himself. ]
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no subject
so he listens, hands folded around his teacup, gaze thoughtful but not judging. observing, watching those little reactions. there's a painful honesty to it, gestures like squeezed hands, a sense of something stuttering that can be at odds with someone who is so bold and usually brash. ]
... I don't have to tell you again that I don't need it or want it. [ protection. that he doesn't like being treated that way - that he is not delicate or fragile, and he especially isn't now that he has his magic back. spotty as it may be, he is a cannon of a cleric. aelfric's chosen, for whatever that's worth.
however. ]
Nor do I have any interest in your injury at my behest. [ just like it was with dion, all those weeks ago. ] I understand how it feels, to feel like it is futile, or that things are out of your control.
[ but my god, hasn't temenos lost enough? he has been protected. three times, now. roi - desperately fleeing flamechurch with the darkblood bow, to what led to his death (and what temenos now knows, to five years of what must have been torture). the pontiff, who didn't tell him of the moonshade order's ministrations until nearly five years after they were initially discovered, so desperate to keep temenos protected from its darkness.
and crick wellsley, sworn to his godsblade, dying on a bitterly cold night in stormhail to try and help temenos find the truth.
he's so tired of it.
he coughs. just once, covering his mouth with his hand. the petals are hard to see, deftly turned into a sleeve so they're not visible - just the faintest hint of sky blue before they're gone. ]
... it is not so catastrophic or grandiose, Nodd. There are still things to be done. [ as he holds the teacup in his hands, he lifts it, slightly. ] This is still something. It is not all lost and worth misery, because you didn't bleed across a slaughterhouse or tap first with a healing gun that hardly works.
no subject
nodd, too, surely. but maybe not with the same noble thoughts.
he listens to temenos words for selfish reasons. because his cadence is soothing. because he heard it once from a much closer distance and enjoyed the experience. ]
When I went on the mission with Amalthea, my room was that memory you saw. The slaughter. I think I told you it was my mistake--trusting--wanting the wrong boy. Rosie and Yuri, they got the wrong impression. Thought I'd been with the guy. No. He, uh. Preferred ladies.
[ breathing because sometimes that's all you have is the in and out. ]
I let someone I knew didn't see me as more than a very, very efficient tool give me a new life and then take it away. This was after I ran away from school--my mother, really. Because I couldn't make her--I couldn't work things out there, either.
[ squeezing hands until his fingers are turning paler with the pressure ]
So, if I can't do anything for someone, I have the tendency of running away.
no subject
it explains some things - pieces click into place, and he takes the long moment between to sip from his tea, so prepare himself to continue to talk, and to take down everything he's said properly. dissect it, understand it. nothing escapes mine eyes, he'd said, and such is the case.
and eventually... he asks, almost mildly: ] And what would you consider this to be, right now?
no subject
anyway.
that long moment is peaceful and agonizing in equal turn. it's an excellent time to breathe and evaluate just what idiocy he spewed at a man recovering from egregious injury. ]
Gluing my feet to the floor for a minute to see how you're faring. Congenial selfishness. I get to see you, you get to see me rustled.
no subject
[ an action, taken. ] Coming to check in. Hardly things that have no merit.
I don't enjoy being coddled, yet, I don't feel so at the moment. [ which is so true - in fact, he got a little frustrated at someone else earlier for trying to do just that. but this, this is fine - welcome, even, for a quiet presence.
he regards nodd a moment longer. ] In this instance, who gets to decide the weight and worth of your actions? You? Or I?
no subject
[ calmer, hearing that he hasn't annoyed temenos. some other time, that could be spicy and fun, but today the inquisitor and mission crew need to heal as much as they can before moving to the ballroom. if nodd posed a threat to that, he'd remove himself. ]