felldenbox

[takeroot]

can i get an f in chat for fellden

Comments

[summonere]

[ V is not certain that logic tracks there, but he's busy right now not containing himself: ]

Oh yes, you've made a great show of establishing enemies, near and far.

[takeroot]

[This is discrimination, V.]

Oh, but surely having no enemies would mean I am everyone else's type of person, not the reverse!

[summonere]

If I'm wrong, you'll have to explain it to me.

[ He's all ears! He's here in your house on a rainy day just to hear about your dirt while the cat lurks in the corner. ]

What type of person are you, and what type of people are 'yours'?

[ The smirk on his face is more for how vague and shapeless the whole inquiry is. The absurd foibles of interaction are more often what he's laughing at, more than Constantin himself. God forbid V waste the breath explaining that. ]

[takeroot]

I am— simply the person who looks after the orphanage.

[His father's disappointment skulks after him still, even months removed, but he can be Constantin who looks after the orphanage now, and not Constantin the family disappointment.

He sinks back in the armchair, rubbing his face. Hmm...]

And I need only someone willing to be kind to me.

[summonere]

[ What a depressing and incomplete answer. ]

You managed that with barely an adjective.

[takeroot]

[V, bud, don't be rude.]

What do you need a list of adjectives for? Am I your reference?

[summonere]

[ Oh yes, my very own dictionary. Don't tempt him with such ridiculous rhetorical questions. ]

The source material, even. I'll have to keep looking for you in it.

[ Or maybe Constantin disappears entirely, replaced by the person who looks after the orphanage. ]

[takeroot]

I did answer your question, you'll notice.

[He slouches some more in his chair, idly looking across the room, toward the rainy window.]

If you have some problem with my terrible lack of adjectives, out with it.

[summonere]

You did, a single note delivered without joy. Which is strange to me, because I know the work excites you.

[ So who is this sad, drab dude. ]

Are you going to blame the weather?

[takeroot]

Are you going to complain some more if I do?

[He glances back V's way, eyebrows raised.]

You mock me when I am dramatic and criticize me when I am not— how desperately hard to please! I enjoy looking after the orphanage, of course I do. That isn't what you asked.

[summonere]

Are my questions too imprecise?

[ Raised eyebrows met with withering dryness. ]

Would you prefer to have a life that I have no visibility into, to avoid my irrepressible need to scorn you?

[takeroot]

How can you still be irritated that a person may grow weary of your attitude?

[That's not what this is about, but— get over it, V, because if it's not going to stop then he doesn't want to hear about it. He sits up straighter, at the very least.]

You have some problem with how I answered your question and I have no idea what it is! If you aren't going to tell me, what would you like me to say?

[summonere]

I'm not irritated. I think, like battles and sword-fighting, I was more interesting to you in theory than in practice. It's alright.

[ So more a bit dejected than irritated. He slouches upwards to his feet, smoothing his hair back off his face. ]

Listen. I'm glad you've found someone kind to share a cat with. [ He goes to the coat he saw you fumbling in earlier and extracts the letter. He's not dumb. ] I'll write you, you'll have to let me know how things are then. Maybe with adjectives, or not, but that would be a short letter.

[ Shadow is there and bounding out into the rain in its larger form as soon as the door is opened. ]

Ah... there it goes... Take care.