[ The implication isn't lost on him. He chuckles, but there's no malice in it. Sent here by his sister to apologize for what he's not sorry for. Poor kid. ]
Not to make a messenger of you again, but do pass on to them my thanks. [ Noticeably: not Lyney. ] Come upstairs. There's tea brewing if you'd like.
[ But he doesn't turn to move just yet, amused gaze trained upon Lyney. He's not the sort to turn his back on someone fostering a grudge. That's only fair, isn't it? ]
[ The invitation hangs in the air, teetering between a challenge and a dare. When he looks to Wriothesley, Lyney sees…
A better man, as frustrating as it was. Someone who has control where he does not, that has his ways and devices where Lyney feels helpless.
It’s unwarranted considering the peace treaty his siblings insisted on is held tight in the man’s hands. The offer is accepted silently with a smart little comment: ]
You may have a problem. There is always tea brewing here. The smell seeps through the pipes.
[ He will never hear the end of it if Lynette finds out he turned Wriothesley down… ugh. ]
[ An exaggeration, no doubt, but one he'll take as a point of pride. He has some particularly aromatic blends from Liyue he's been enjoying lately. He's even jotted down a few for eventual restock. Not that he expects Lyney to care for any of that--look at him, sour as can be. ]
Better the teapot than the bottle, no?
[ When they've moved upstairs, Wriothesley places the box at his desk carefully. Truth told, it's a sweet gesture, even with the choice of deliveryman in mind. He'll open it after Lyney is gone; for now, his attentions will stay firmly upon him. In case Lyney does take an opportunity to do a bad thing twice. And maybe because Wriothesley thinks there's ample reason for the boy to hold off on anything like forgiveness: Wriothesley never did apologize for his part, either.
He sets a cup of Earl Grey before Lyney, a small tray of snacks to match, then takes a seat with his own cup in hand. ]
Honestly, I'm surprised you agreed to come up here. You were content to attack me downstairs last time.
[ Deadpan, but it's playful ribbing. He doesn't hold it against Lyney. They both did what they had to: as Warden, as a brother. ]
[ Quiet but not like Freminet, more thoughtful and instead more confident. Wine was nice, he had partaken in it when allowed the stock but a young man… oh his experiences with taste and the luxury of drink was so minimal.
He doesn’t like being so far from the door but he takes it as a sign to stay on guard.
Once settling, Lyney doesn’t reach out for anything, instead seated with one leg over the other. He keeps small, tight in his posture to maintain his own aura of comfort. It was interesting how similar he was to a cat and yet — no features. ]
I would attack you upstairs if I knew you had my sister hostage again. Surely you understand some circumstances make for funny second acts.
[ He points his gaze only briefly to the snacks and drinks, as if waiting for his host to eat first. ]
If you expect an apology for my emboldened behavior… I wonder if you have any siblings yourself.
[ Lyney remembers the scolding Lynette gave… sigh. ]
However, as it was… if we find ourselves not on opposite sides — I see little reason to pursue that again. Just keep your nurse’s gun holstered in respect as well.
Whatever he might have had to say about Lynette as a captive tugs on these words and holds fast. Are all magicians so adept at bringing hidden things into the spotlight? Perhaps it's only Lyney. The best in Fontaine, he's heard. He hardly doubts it. ]
Had. [ One small word by way of explanation. He shrugs, sipping slow, then adding just a few more after a moment: ] In a manner of speaking.
[ But then, can he really call them that in the face of a boy so close to his own brother and sister? He reaches for memories of his foster family and finds their faces smudged by time, smears of color and time lost to history. He remembers only fragments of them, and they, probably nothing of him. Nothing like the bond shared by these adoring three.
She may not be here to bail him out as she did last time, but Sigewinne's mention makes for a lovely out, should Lyney need it. He sets his teacup down. ]
As for Sigewinne, I assure you she'd rather fawn over you than shoot you again. It's not often she gets to interact with twins.
[ There's very few things that can throw him off like that.
Had.
Past tense, something gone from the world. Lyney's eyes flicker an ounce of sympathy through his own hang-ups, heart tight at the thought of his siblings nothing more than a memory. If that was the case, could Wriothesley see why Lyney acted? He'd kill for his siblings – he almost did for Lynette when the world nearly stole his love from him... before he knew what he felt for her.
No.
It's too uncomfortable to think of 'what-ifs' and so, like any good magician, he deflects so the audience can't see past the illusion. ]
I'll leave an autograph then, since Lynette didn't bring a gift for her.
[ He leans back a little, foot bouncing only for a few seconds at the ankle. ]
And if you're a proper host... one for you, since you're such a fan.
[ He leaves it at that--not to further antagonize Lyney, but because he's turned pensive, as much as he can be given the circumstances. Because he catches that glint of feeling in Lyney's eyes, that moment that says maybe they understand each other better than they know. Should he elaborate? Let him know it's nothing to grieve? Their paths have long since diverged, him and his siblings--if there were ever tears to cry, Wriothesley can say they've long since dried.
...A good host wouldn't delve into such matters over afternoon tea. But maybe this is how they resolve what happened that day. Maybe this is how Lyney leaves his anger at the door. ]
...I don't remember them well. Wherever they are, they likely don't remember me either. [ He waves a hand dismissively. ] It was a long time ago. Nothing like what the three of you share.
[ Stories of this Duke are often spread on the surface, keeping fear of being sent to he fortress fathoms below strong. Who wants to cross someone that's been said to punch a hole through a Lawachurl? Or runs a tight ship that you'd only leave if you sold your soul to him like some god of the Underworld? Rumors... fun as they were, held some weight to those who really didn't need to worry.
That power, a reputation, does wonders.
So, as he looks over to Wriothesley with a more pointed look, it's half-expectant and half-unimpressed. What he's seen frustrates him but Lyney isn't unreasonable.
The Duke talks and Lyney uncrosses his legs, leaning forward to take the snacks provided. Two, they rest in his palm as he settles again. ]
You were young when you last saw them, then. Not an icy old man.
[ ...He's getting there. ]
They're still your siblings. [ His tone grows softer, eyes shutting for a moment in reflection. ] Years, countries, universes – it doesn't change what is.
[ This icy old man can't help a small smile. He appreciates what Lyney says, but whether or not it resonates with him is another story. It was another time. Another life. Would he say the same if he knew the full story? Wriothesley can't know that: he won't divulge the whole thing, not yet. Not for shame, or for regret--only because it seems best for another day, should that ever come.
He supposes it won't. Not if this fiery young one behaves himself from here on out. Another sip of his tea, a spreading of warmth through the office chill, and a brief touch of silence. ]
Maybe. [ He relaxes into his seat. ] But to answer your earlier wondering--I never did say your reasons for acting out were wrong. You acted on what you knew, and on noble intentions. Unfortunately, Meropide's rules don't function on intention.
[ It's a matter of principle. If he lets one thing go but not another, makes exceptions where there's so little room for them...well. Things would soon get out of control. ]
I should hope you won't land yourself here again, but if you do--don't swing on me outside the pankration ring. Understood?
Lyney isn't sure what to think when someone speaks so plainly to him. Faults and all, not a lick of flirtations or sweet words could sway Wriothesley it seems. It's not quite refreshing to be on 'equal' footing but... it's different. He loosens his shoulders a bit, fingers breaking apart the snacks into smaller pieces before taking a bite. ]
They say the road to hell is paved with good intentions, but I'd do it again and again. I don't regret it, merely I have no eyes in the back of my head.
[ Now that was said, Lyney scoffs a half-laugh. ]
Fortunate for you, I'm keen on keeping my affairs far away from this place. [ And he'd do anything to keep Lynette out of it too. ] But, I do owe you a swing.
[ Fair enough. Authority he may be, but far be it from him to demand apologies where they aren't going to materialize. If Lyney wants to offer him that, he can. If not, he doesn't have to. So long as the rules are made clear, Wriothesley has no further complaint. There are things he'd do over again no matter the price, too.
But it's his turn to scoff at what he takes to be a threat. They say not to underestimate any opponent, but his laundry is probably heavier than this kid. They won't be seeing each other in the ring even if he does go and make another ill-advised decision that lands him here. ]
Yeah, yeah. I'm holding you to that. [ He drains the rest of his cup. ] That Father of yours better not send you back my way. You've told me about your brother and sister, but how is she these days?
[ Lyney makes up for raw strength with his passions and persuasion. It's fine. He can be he most petite young man, looking up to a towering Wriothesley and still thinking he could conquer him if threatened...
Ignorance is bliss, youth is arrogance. ]
Father has matters elsewhere, you need not worry about that. [ Now that the prophecy had been resolved and the Fatui's name were a little less venom on the lips of the Fontaine citizens after the rescue missions after the flood... Lyney's in a good place.
For now.
He chews thoughtfully, trying not to feel a pang of jealousy that Wriothesley could speak so casually about Lynette. The thought of him alone with her encourages a strange thought, protective – but thinking of the differences between them and that man touching her to stow her away – ugh. ]
She's fine. Keeping to herself but hopefully she'll be back in the sunlight before too long.
[ The world deserved to see the radiance he sees. Lynette's just a tiny bit jittery about the back-to-back drama from trial to sentencing and Lyney supported that. ]
[ Clipped as always. But then, was that always true? Wriothesley thinks back, remembers a time before their confrontation when Lyney was a rather charming thing. They didn't interact terribly often--he can probably count the times on his hand--but he seems to recall a "Your Grace" or two said sweetly from those frowning lips. He ought to chide him about that. Another Fortress rule, albeit an informal one.
For now, he'll put it aside. There's something he's curious about before he lets Lyney go free from this little errand he's been forced to run. ]
[ There's ways that Lyney feels vindicated. Charming, through sweet smiles and bright eyes. A glint of mischief and a twist of his lips to a smirk... there's something inviting and challenging all at once. Archon knows how many young crushes he's been responsible for, adoring fans and the like.
But, with Wriothesley, there was a short while before his blood boiled – where he vowed to make the man pay for touching Lynette in any way. The calm before the storm was laughs air and heated, sighs in annoyance at work, and the teasing that came with it.
Disrespecting an authority he didn't respect was part of a rowdy youth, wasn't it? The kind perfect for rehabilitation... lest they be a problem for themselves.
He finishes his snack with a dust of his hand – from between his fingers a sudden white cloth whips out and a napkin wipes away the crumbs. ]
Same answer. We are a duo, after all. I've been reworking some of the stage show while Lynette takes it easy. Our residency there was not revoked given the circumstances but... a water tank escape is far from acceptable. We should be returning soon once I find a suitable replacement to that act.
[ He nearly points out that he didn't ask how the magic show was faring, but rather how Lyney is doing, but perhaps to Lyney there's no meaningful difference. It's his duty to follow up on a former inmate's condition where the opportunity presents itself, and maybe this is how following up looks to someone like Lyney. His wellbeing seems contingent upon the show's--and no doubt Lynette's. He considers that for a moment, nods. The kid did just pull a napkin out of nowhere in a one-on-one setting; magic is clearly more than an occupation to him. ]
Good to hear.
[ He's never seen the water tank trick, and supposes he won't get to now. Too bad. ]
[ It's all he knew – an occupation, a hobby, a lesson, and shield. Truthfully, it was a pity. Lynette was a real beauty as she moved in that tank. She deserved to be admired.
He offers his napkin and then sits up a bit straighter with his fingers out reached between them. ...A white flag, in a sense. Temporarily. ]
All things considered, it's close to the best outcome. Things return back to their mundane path. I'm sure much is the same here too.
[ There it is – where a cornered cat eases up justttt a little. ]
[ In a sense, the gesture is more unexpected than the initial appearance of the napkin. He looks from the cloth, then to Lyney, then the cloth again, and finally smiles. ]
You'd be right. No news is good news, right?
[ He takes the napkin from between Lyney's fingers, turns it over with some curiosity. No hints as to how he did that. The kid's a pro. ]
[ The only thing Wriothesley would find was red stitching and the scent of some cologne. Musk that was far too mature for someone of his age. Bourbon and driftwood, with a hint of cinder. It's clearly his. ]
So long as another primordial sea seems to burst from your pipes, yeah. Sounds like it's business as usual. You should be so fortunate for having good boys and girls here.
[ Those words were with the same smug groan as Your Grace. ]
[ Lucky thing he's not an inmate anymore, or Wriothesley would have to put his foot down about that tone of his. But in a way it's better to have him smug than angry. Let the kid blow off a little steam--their unfinished business is as resolved as it's probably going to get, after all. ]
They keep busy. [ Simple as that, really. Give people a reasonable task to focus on, get reaasonable rewards in return. In this case, compliance, among other things. He places the handkerchief next to the box from Lynette, folding it in some approximation of neatness. ] Treat people fairly and they'll usually return the favor. It's no different with inmates.
[ A brief pause. ]
Unless you give their twin sister a room to sleep in and some tea with snacks.
[ Get smugness, receive smugness in return. Fair's fair. ]
[ A napkin was just a napkin, he cares little of it in the grand scheme of things. He's already suspiciously eyeing the tea before taking it – letting it rest on those thighs lined with leather garters. Still, cradling the side of the cup softly. ]
There's a thin line between debt and favors.
[ Lynette is 'returning the favor', but here he is thinking he's indebted to some extent for some mercy that kept her safe. Hm, he makes a face right at bringing Lynette up when his mind wanders to her – ]
One she didn't ask for. One you didn't bring me to.
[ He's wrong for it, for speaking about Lynette's trauma like it's his own. In a way, they were soulmates – intimate in the ways where sometimes they couldn't separate their wants. ]
...My sister has faced the cruelties of this world. Things that shape her and I and make me wish to shield her from everyone who could harm her. As composed and respectable as she is, it is to guard and prevent herself from being harmed when I cannot. While she may forgive you, make amends...
[ He scoffs just a little bringing the tea to his lips. ]
I will say this: she will never be your guest again. I will ensure it personally.
[ Protect her... or just keep them out of here? Both are valid. ]
[ "She will never be your guest again." Well, that's only music to his ears--nothing against Lynette, of course, but rather the principle that people ought not live their lives with Wriothesley as common company. If Lyney intends to make sure she never lands herself back in this place, all the better.
Interesting that he designates Lynette as the one who's faced the world's cruelties. Anyone can see the two are practically attached at the hip. Would that not mean, then, that Lyney has also faced his share of indignity? Who protects him when Lynette cannot? Questions he'll hold on to for now. What a tea time this has turned into. Unfitting of an ordinary Earl Grey, that's for certain. ]
You know that I never truly meant her harm, right? [ If they're to truly settle this as best they can, Wriothesley feels he ought to clarify that. ] Nor Freminet. Whether or not you had given me what I asked for, neither would have been in any danger. The only true gamble on my part was whether or not you'd fold.
[ A short, but unintentionally heavy pause. ]
I'm...not one to hurt children.
[ He means to say it as naturally as possible. What can be more natural, anyhow? What should come easier than that? But Wriothesley has faced a few cruelties of his own, and knows the world doesn't always hold itself to common sense. ]
[ What morals and expectations he had prior were all based off that anger, that consuming desire to protect those he holds dear. Father had ensured they were safe, they were taken care of for such a small 'penance'. Loyalty. They all had to work to keep their family close and trusting.
Lyney swallows all his pain. The shame of the things he's had to do, the broken promises lessened with "it's okay" from his siblings – misjudgments based on hope, brashness, and love.
It landed him tranq'd on the floor, after all. ]
I haven't been a boy in a long time. [ Unsaid: his siblings were not children either. He finishes half the tea and sets it forward. ] Everything leading up to this prophecy was delicate. A tightrope to walk and one inch off, everything would be ruined. There was no room for safety nets.
[ It takes a lot to be this transparent and he clicks his tongue to his teeth. ]
I made a vow to Lynette I'd never allow another person to treat her like property, like a lion caged in some circus.
[ Kids never do see themselves as such. It's different for Wriothesley: past a certain point, boys like Lyney start to look more and more like the children they swear they're not, and he suspects Lyney will see it his way once he gets there. No sense arguing it; he wouldn't hear it at that age either.
There's probably no sense in zeroing in on this, either, but he does. Lyney already mentioned the cruelties of the world. But the wording makes it realer, makes it more tangible in Wriothesley's empty hands. ]
"Another" person, huh. [ Did he ever many any such vow to his siblings? He doesn't recall. ] You've been through a lot.
[ And they'll continue to at the hands of the Fatui, so long as that's where their loyalties lie. But there's a lot there that Wriothesley senses he doesn't see, a safety Lyney must deem adequate in exchange for whatever the organization puts him up to. There's a distant, small tangle of feeling in his chest; Meropide had once been his trade-off, too. His better alternative. ]
[ Shaking his head, it's not about him. He deflects it, aimed precise like an arrow. He lounges back, legs crossed and gaze as confident as ever. Comfortable, his body language read. That was good, if it wasn't an act. ]
They have. [ A beat. ] Wouldn't be a Fontanian without a fair share of trouble brewing like a storm.
[ Even joking, friendly as he was, feels... uncomfortable. Like it was okay to let that mask slip just enough for Lyney to breathe. ]
[ Wriothesley looks him over then, the calm countenance, the seamless maneuver into a light joke. The forfeit of what was undoubtedly his own trauma unto others. Whether it's Lyney really letting go or not, Wriothesley can't help interpreting it as protection. He once had to protect himself too. Not through charm--not wit, not color and wonder--but through a number of other ways. Making himself unassuming. Making himself bigger than he was, if unassuming didn't work.
Fontanians have their troubles, and they have their masks, too. ]
Hah.
[ He could pry. But he won't. Let the magician keep his secrets: he hopes, after all, that they never have another opportunity for letting their masks slip again. ]
...I'm afraid I have an appointment due soon. But I'm glad that we talked, Lyney. [ He feels no shame in saying it. Why should he? He'd rather be on good terms with him, or at least the best they can manage. ] Do stay out of trouble, now.
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Not to make a messenger of you again, but do pass on to them my thanks. [ Noticeably: not Lyney. ] Come upstairs. There's tea brewing if you'd like.
[ But he doesn't turn to move just yet, amused gaze trained upon Lyney. He's not the sort to turn his back on someone fostering a grudge. That's only fair, isn't it? ]
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A better man, as frustrating as it was. Someone who has control where he does not, that has his ways and devices where Lyney feels helpless.
It’s unwarranted considering the peace treaty his siblings insisted on is held tight in the man’s hands. The offer is accepted silently with a smart little comment: ]
You may have a problem. There is always tea brewing here. The smell seeps through the pipes.
[ He will never hear the end of it if Lynette finds out he turned Wriothesley down… ugh. ]
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Better the teapot than the bottle, no?
[ When they've moved upstairs, Wriothesley places the box at his desk carefully. Truth told, it's a sweet gesture, even with the choice of deliveryman in mind. He'll open it after Lyney is gone; for now, his attentions will stay firmly upon him. In case Lyney does take an opportunity to do a bad thing twice. And maybe because Wriothesley thinks there's ample reason for the boy to hold off on anything like forgiveness: Wriothesley never did apologize for his part, either.
He sets a cup of Earl Grey before Lyney, a small tray of snacks to match, then takes a seat with his own cup in hand. ]
Honestly, I'm surprised you agreed to come up here. You were content to attack me downstairs last time.
[ Deadpan, but it's playful ribbing. He doesn't hold it against Lyney. They both did what they had to: as Warden, as a brother. ]
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[ Quiet but not like Freminet, more thoughtful and instead more confident. Wine was nice, he had partaken in it when allowed the stock but a young man… oh his experiences with taste and the luxury of drink was so minimal.
He doesn’t like being so far from the door but he takes it as a sign to stay on guard.
Once settling, Lyney doesn’t reach out for anything, instead seated with one leg over the other. He keeps small, tight in his posture to maintain his own aura of comfort. It was interesting how similar he was to a cat and yet — no features. ]
I would attack you upstairs if I knew you had my sister hostage again. Surely you understand some circumstances make for funny second acts.
[ He points his gaze only briefly to the snacks and drinks, as if waiting for his host to eat first. ]
If you expect an apology for my emboldened behavior… I wonder if you have any siblings yourself.
[ Lyney remembers the scolding Lynette gave… sigh. ]
However, as it was… if we find ourselves not on opposite sides — I see little reason to pursue that again. Just keep your nurse’s gun holstered in respect as well.
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Whatever he might have had to say about Lynette as a captive tugs on these words and holds fast. Are all magicians so adept at bringing hidden things into the spotlight? Perhaps it's only Lyney. The best in Fontaine, he's heard. He hardly doubts it. ]
Had. [ One small word by way of explanation. He shrugs, sipping slow, then adding just a few more after a moment: ] In a manner of speaking.
[ But then, can he really call them that in the face of a boy so close to his own brother and sister? He reaches for memories of his foster family and finds their faces smudged by time, smears of color and time lost to history. He remembers only fragments of them, and they, probably nothing of him. Nothing like the bond shared by these adoring three.
She may not be here to bail him out as she did last time, but Sigewinne's mention makes for a lovely out, should Lyney need it. He sets his teacup down. ]
As for Sigewinne, I assure you she'd rather fawn over you than shoot you again. It's not often she gets to interact with twins.
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Had.
Past tense, something gone from the world. Lyney's eyes flicker an ounce of sympathy through his own hang-ups, heart tight at the thought of his siblings nothing more than a memory. If that was the case, could Wriothesley see why Lyney acted? He'd kill for his siblings – he almost did for Lynette when the world nearly stole his love from him... before he knew what he felt for her.
No.
It's too uncomfortable to think of 'what-ifs' and so, like any good magician, he deflects so the audience can't see past the illusion. ]
I'll leave an autograph then, since Lynette didn't bring a gift for her.
[ He leans back a little, foot bouncing only for a few seconds at the ankle. ]
And if you're a proper host... one for you, since you're such a fan.
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She'd like that, thank you.
[ He leaves it at that--not to further antagonize Lyney, but because he's turned pensive, as much as he can be given the circumstances. Because he catches that glint of feeling in Lyney's eyes, that moment that says maybe they understand each other better than they know. Should he elaborate? Let him know it's nothing to grieve? Their paths have long since diverged, him and his siblings--if there were ever tears to cry, Wriothesley can say they've long since dried.
...A good host wouldn't delve into such matters over afternoon tea. But maybe this is how they resolve what happened that day. Maybe this is how Lyney leaves his anger at the door. ]
...I don't remember them well. Wherever they are, they likely don't remember me either. [ He waves a hand dismissively. ] It was a long time ago. Nothing like what the three of you share.
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That power, a reputation, does wonders.
So, as he looks over to Wriothesley with a more pointed look, it's half-expectant and half-unimpressed. What he's seen frustrates him but Lyney isn't unreasonable.
The Duke talks and Lyney uncrosses his legs, leaning forward to take the snacks provided. Two, they rest in his palm as he settles again. ]
You were young when you last saw them, then. Not an icy old man.
[ ...He's getting there. ]
They're still your siblings. [ His tone grows softer, eyes shutting for a moment in reflection. ] Years, countries, universes – it doesn't change what is.
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He supposes it won't. Not if this fiery young one behaves himself from here on out. Another sip of his tea, a spreading of warmth through the office chill, and a brief touch of silence. ]
Maybe. [ He relaxes into his seat. ] But to answer your earlier wondering--I never did say your reasons for acting out were wrong. You acted on what you knew, and on noble intentions. Unfortunately, Meropide's rules don't function on intention.
[ It's a matter of principle. If he lets one thing go but not another, makes exceptions where there's so little room for them...well. Things would soon get out of control. ]
I should hope you won't land yourself here again, but if you do--don't swing on me outside the pankration ring. Understood?
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Lyney isn't sure what to think when someone speaks so plainly to him. Faults and all, not a lick of flirtations or sweet words could sway Wriothesley it seems. It's not quite refreshing to be on 'equal' footing but... it's different. He loosens his shoulders a bit, fingers breaking apart the snacks into smaller pieces before taking a bite. ]
They say the road to hell is paved with good intentions, but I'd do it again and again. I don't regret it, merely I have no eyes in the back of my head.
[ Now that was said, Lyney scoffs a half-laugh. ]
Fortunate for you, I'm keen on keeping my affairs far away from this place. [ And he'd do anything to keep Lynette out of it too. ] But, I do owe you a swing.
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But it's his turn to scoff at what he takes to be a threat. They say not to underestimate any opponent, but his laundry is probably heavier than this kid. They won't be seeing each other in the ring even if he does go and make another ill-advised decision that lands him here. ]
Yeah, yeah. I'm holding you to that. [ He drains the rest of his cup. ] That Father of yours better not send you back my way. You've told me about your brother and sister, but how is she these days?
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Ignorance is bliss, youth is arrogance. ]
Father has matters elsewhere, you need not worry about that. [ Now that the prophecy had been resolved and the Fatui's name were a little less venom on the lips of the Fontaine citizens after the rescue missions after the flood... Lyney's in a good place.
For now.
He chews thoughtfully, trying not to feel a pang of jealousy that Wriothesley could speak so casually about Lynette. The thought of him alone with her encourages a strange thought, protective – but thinking of the differences between them and that man touching her to stow her away – ugh. ]
She's fine. Keeping to herself but hopefully she'll be back in the sunlight before too long.
[ The world deserved to see the radiance he sees. Lynette's just a tiny bit jittery about the back-to-back drama from trial to sentencing and Lyney supported that. ]
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For now, he'll put it aside. There's something he's curious about before he lets Lyney go free from this little errand he's been forced to run. ]
And what about you?
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But, with Wriothesley, there was a short while before his blood boiled – where he vowed to make the man pay for touching Lynette in any way. The calm before the storm was laughs air and heated, sighs in annoyance at work, and the teasing that came with it.
Disrespecting an authority he didn't respect was part of a rowdy youth, wasn't it? The kind perfect for rehabilitation... lest they be a problem for themselves.
He finishes his snack with a dust of his hand – from between his fingers a sudden white cloth whips out and a napkin wipes away the crumbs. ]
Same answer. We are a duo, after all. I've been reworking some of the stage show while Lynette takes it easy. Our residency there was not revoked given the circumstances but... a water tank escape is far from acceptable. We should be returning soon once I find a suitable replacement to that act.
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Good to hear.
[ He's never seen the water tank trick, and supposes he won't get to now. Too bad. ]
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He offers his napkin and then sits up a bit straighter with his fingers out reached between them. ...A white flag, in a sense. Temporarily. ]
All things considered, it's close to the best outcome. Things return back to their mundane path. I'm sure much is the same here too.
[ There it is – where a cornered cat eases up justttt a little. ]
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You'd be right. No news is good news, right?
[ He takes the napkin from between Lyney's fingers, turns it over with some curiosity. No hints as to how he did that. The kid's a pro. ]
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So long as another primordial sea seems to burst from your pipes, yeah. Sounds like it's business as usual. You should be so fortunate for having good boys and girls here.
[ Those words were with the same smug groan as Your Grace. ]
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They keep busy. [ Simple as that, really. Give people a reasonable task to focus on, get reaasonable rewards in return. In this case, compliance, among other things. He places the handkerchief next to the box from Lynette, folding it in some approximation of neatness. ] Treat people fairly and they'll usually return the favor. It's no different with inmates.
[ A brief pause. ]
Unless you give their twin sister a room to sleep in and some tea with snacks.
[ Get smugness, receive smugness in return. Fair's fair. ]
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There's a thin line between debt and favors.
[ Lynette is 'returning the favor', but here he is thinking he's indebted to some extent for some mercy that kept her safe. Hm, he makes a face right at bringing Lynette up when his mind wanders to her – ]
One she didn't ask for. One you didn't bring me to.
[ He's wrong for it, for speaking about Lynette's trauma like it's his own. In a way, they were soulmates – intimate in the ways where sometimes they couldn't separate their wants. ]
...My sister has faced the cruelties of this world. Things that shape her and I and make me wish to shield her from everyone who could harm her. As composed and respectable as she is, it is to guard and prevent herself from being harmed when I cannot. While she may forgive you, make amends...
[ He scoffs just a little bringing the tea to his lips. ]
I will say this: she will never be your guest again. I will ensure it personally.
[ Protect her... or just keep them out of here? Both are valid. ]
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Interesting that he designates Lynette as the one who's faced the world's cruelties. Anyone can see the two are practically attached at the hip. Would that not mean, then, that Lyney has also faced his share of indignity? Who protects him when Lynette cannot? Questions he'll hold on to for now. What a tea time this has turned into. Unfitting of an ordinary Earl Grey, that's for certain. ]
You know that I never truly meant her harm, right? [ If they're to truly settle this as best they can, Wriothesley feels he ought to clarify that. ] Nor Freminet. Whether or not you had given me what I asked for, neither would have been in any danger. The only true gamble on my part was whether or not you'd fold.
[ A short, but unintentionally heavy pause. ]
I'm...not one to hurt children.
[ He means to say it as naturally as possible. What can be more natural, anyhow? What should come easier than that? But Wriothesley has faced a few cruelties of his own, and knows the world doesn't always hold itself to common sense. ]
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Lyney swallows all his pain. The shame of the things he's had to do, the broken promises lessened with "it's okay" from his siblings – misjudgments based on hope, brashness, and love.
It landed him tranq'd on the floor, after all. ]
I haven't been a boy in a long time. [ Unsaid: his siblings were not children either. He finishes half the tea and sets it forward. ] Everything leading up to this prophecy was delicate. A tightrope to walk and one inch off, everything would be ruined. There was no room for safety nets.
[ It takes a lot to be this transparent and he clicks his tongue to his teeth. ]
I made a vow to Lynette I'd never allow another person to treat her like property, like a lion caged in some circus.
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There's probably no sense in zeroing in on this, either, but he does. Lyney already mentioned the cruelties of the world. But the wording makes it realer, makes it more tangible in Wriothesley's empty hands. ]
"Another" person, huh. [ Did he ever many any such vow to his siblings? He doesn't recall. ] You've been through a lot.
[ And they'll continue to at the hands of the Fatui, so long as that's where their loyalties lie. But there's a lot there that Wriothesley senses he doesn't see, a safety Lyney must deem adequate in exchange for whatever the organization puts him up to. There's a distant, small tangle of feeling in his chest; Meropide had once been his trade-off, too. His better alternative. ]
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They have. [ A beat. ] Wouldn't be a Fontanian without a fair share of trouble brewing like a storm.
[ Even joking, friendly as he was, feels... uncomfortable. Like it was okay to let that mask slip just enough for Lyney to breathe. ]
...Tea, in your case.
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Fontanians have their troubles, and they have their masks, too. ]
Hah.
[ He could pry. But he won't. Let the magician keep his secrets: he hopes, after all, that they never have another opportunity for letting their masks slip again. ]
...I'm afraid I have an appointment due soon. But I'm glad that we talked, Lyney. [ He feels no shame in saying it. Why should he? He'd rather be on good terms with him, or at least the best they can manage. ] Do stay out of trouble, now.