[ He refuses the pastry with a small gesture, smiling his thanks. For all his thoughts of their similarities, Wriothesley can't help noticing how different they are, too--Lynette is polite as can be, softly spoken, but with a silent boundary about her that lends a quiet strength. She commands more respect than she might realize.
Naturally, their thoughts intersect with Lyney. All told, he'd rather not think about the boy right now--would ideally be enjoying a meal under the sunlight, listening to the low murmur of free people going about their daily lives--but there isn't any avoiding it. He approached her, anyhow, and he has a certain responsibility for these things--to let the ones left behind know how their loved ones are faring, to enlighten them where the opportunity arises. ]
Were it in my power, I'd recommend a reduction to his sentence. Your brother has been a model prisoner. If anything at all should change, I'll see to it that you're notified immediately.
[ For the most part, it's the truth: other than the... recent incident, Lyney has kept out of trouble and worked for his living. He does what he can not to shift uncomfortably in his seat, saved by a passing waiter who stops and takes his order. He'll just have a light lunch.
Once that's done with, he turns his attention back to her. ]
I'm sorry there isn't more I can do for him. I know it must be hard.
[ The pastry sits between them in kind. Lynette will crack, of course, but not just yet. Part of her hadn't expected him to take it too. Her time with Wriothesley, while... conflicting, was nothing short of respectful. She'll forgive him, knowing he's bound by duties similar to theirs. Roles, they play, and Lynette's far less fired up than Lyney.
...She can't say she would be proper if the situation changed but Wriothesley was met with respect by at least one of the twins. ]
Thank you. The sentiment is appreciated, but... Lyney seemed to have accepted everything without complaint. If this is the justice, a true justice, he was deemed fit to face –
[ He would face it again and again. Lynette remembers, tired as she was and in her own daze from captivity the fire roaring through the hillside. Lyney dragging her through mud and down the hill away and that secluded cabin but a firefly in the distance. Lyney showed no regret. ]
You are working within the same methods of justice, in helping it be served. [ There's a bit of sympathy in her eyes. She'd never want to run anything. Not like the Fortress, not like the Fatui. ] My brother is not the easiest to deal with, only because you know not where the cards truly wait to be played. The only time I've seen him play so plainly was his confession. It was black and white.
[ "If I save Lynette, send a message... I must pay for my crime. So be it."
Lynette sets her tea down and tilts her had curiously. ]
I just hope he listened to me about his temper. He really did not wish to make amends prior to... everything. I think part of him feared you.
[ Feared him? He sits with that a moment, holds it up against the fabric of whatever he and Lyney have become. You're not as cold as I thought you would be. Back then, during the 'kidnapping' incident, he had needed Lyney to fear him a little. It never occurred to him that might last once the jig was up. With no idea of how to feel for that--or any sense of whether or not it matters, now that Lyney simply detests him--he searches for what to say, finally settling upon some version of the truth. ]
Meropide can be a place for rebirth, but it's also a place where people are kept from their loved ones. Not everyone can be their best self in the face of that kind of isolation. [ No, Lyney's temper hasn't always been what Lynette hopes for--but Wriothesley never expected it to be. ] We've put to rest what happened back then, or at least as best we can, given everything. He's fiercely protective of you--so much that I don't know I'll ever be completely forgiven.
[ Lyney couldn't prevent a lot of things that hurt them. He looks at magic as if they're miracles – to save things unsavable and fix things shattered in a million pieces... but Lynette knows how unhealthy it is.
When they reunited after her 'kidnapping', Lyney clung to her. Scolded Wriothesley's name but... she knows why. He had control, he had the means to keep himself strong and guarded. They never did. Not without the Fatui. ]
All we know of it was what we were told. Be good or you'll be sent away to disappear under the sea. ...When our mission brought us there, we knew little about you. I suspect a part of him still feels like a boy when he feels he needs to be a man. [ Lyney looked to Wriothesley and felt a failure. ] I'm... glad to know he talked to you. So many words and reassurances that you never hurt me but – yes. His protections are a bit of a projection.
[ Will he be forgiven? She's not sure. Lynette takes a bite of her pastry, chewing it thoughtfully. A solid four minutes before she caved. ]
He thinks... he has to make up for things. Shortcomings... and things that may happen. My brother is a kind soul, warm and full of love for those he cherishes... but he's blinded by what has burned him. ...Burned our family. It's not you, it never has been.
[ She knows not to speak ill of Father and her... ah, forthcoming ways of love and protection. ]
[ Hers is a thoughtful, nearly apologetic assessment of Lyney--one that begs feeling even as she says it in mellow tones. There's likely no one in Wriothesley's life who could summarize him in such a manner. He listens intently, nodding his appreciation. Even with his sources of information, it's rare to get this kind of look into an inmate: a higher vantage point, one nested in the kind of closeness that can't be substituted for. ]
No one could know him better than you do. I'm fortunate to have your insight as to who Lyney is. He is, too--many inmates have no one to speak on their behalf at all.
[ He doesn't get the sense that Lynette will come flying at him over the table if he asks, but he does know he needs to tread carefully if he's to better understand the situation at hand. He's not hoping for much, at this point--circling back to their similarities, both seem perfectly loyal to the Fatui, to their Father--there's no one else to ask, short of trying the House in person and hoping Arlecchino is there. He'd rather not go that route. He rarely likes to throw the first jab. ]
But you say Lyney feels he has to make up for things. Even things that may happen. What sort of things may happen, if I might ask?
[ Lynette looks down when Wriothesley speaks about their behalfs. Even as a whole... Father only comments when absolutely needing to. Maintaining a neutral face of the House of the Hearth was important, but ensuring no one twists her words was what makes her more of an enigma than 'leader' to the public eye. Lynette wishes things were different, truly... but she knows Father is not that type of person.
Lynette's posture changes just enough for Wriothesley to notice. A bit more defensive, her eyes down to the final pastry between them. ]
I don't... know. [ She's careful with her words. ] I suppose I could assume that everything we have. Our show, our home, our friends, our family... he's afraid it will be taken from him for one reason or another. There are many of nights where Lyney can't sleep even with a pile of kittens on him and clanks around the house. Practicing tricks, preparing for tomorrow's jokes, that sort. He grows restless but –
[ Lynette hates lying. Turning the other cheek like she cannot see the fear in Lyney's eyes the more serious of roles he's been given in their house. ]
I do not understand it, but even if 'Father' is, well, Father... Lyney feels a responsibility to care for us in the same manner. He shouldn't, but... I know he does. Father encourages it, after all. Who does not want to appease Father?
[ It's quickly apparent that Lynette can only say so much. No surprise; he knows by now that anyone under Arlecchino's heel will do their best not to squirm, lest she dig in even further. But the words do hold some insight, a small look into what Lyney might be faced with once he's free from Meropide. Lyney loves with his whole heart; it is, in a way, a grave he digs with his own hands, an easy pathway for anyone looking to hurt him. Do anything to him and he'll survive. But take that which he cares for, and he'll crumble--or otherwise never err again.
His order comes to him as he ruminates on what Lynette says. By now his appetite has waned--it's insidious, this leveraging of what Lyney cares for most, this total shared obedience toward someone who would snatch away that which they hold dear. Wriothesley's parents were similarly brutal, but hardly prone to mind games of this sort. His own punishments come to mind, muffled, the edges worn off of them by time. ]
To be honest, I had hoped I might eventually speak with your Father. [ These requests never seem to go well, so he doesn't put it forward as one: rather, more like a passing fancy. He starts in on his meal in small bites, swallowing before he continues. ] He writes to her, as you know, but for some parents of incarcerated children, letters are scarcely enough.
[ The mention of Father from Wriothesley has Lynette's ears fold back and her eyes look down. She isn't as accusing, as angry as her brother... but the concern washes over her face differently. A reminder that while they may be twins, they're two different people. ]
Why? [ The same question Lyney pleaded, but asked so softly and tentatively. ] If Father wishes to reach out, needs to... she finds a way.
[ She allows him to eat, finishing her tea before setting the cup to the side. ]
...She's disappointed that Lyney went against her and I know it hurts him. He was sure in his choices, he always is when it comes to me but... [ Oh, that but – ] – but we all know questioning Father means questioning the life we've been gifted. I... I wish she wasn't so hard on him –
[ Lynette cares in turn, knows how hard Lyney has to work to appease her. Silently, she begins to fold her napkin. Idly, until she lays a circle between them. Sharp cuts upwards – it looks like a bear trap. ]
I think there is only one way to meet with Father.
[ Trap her. Lynette's deathly white just suggesting it – but if something is going on with Lyney... ]
[ It's about what he expects: that shrinking away, that reinforcing of walls when it comes to all things Arlecchino. In Lynette the hesitation is quieter, more civil, but the answer is ultimately the same. 'Why?' He's beginning to wonder the same. If she has her own children in this kind of stranglehold...what could he possibly say to sway her? To inspire leniency? If anything, his insistence might trigger the opposite, might make things worse for Lyney. He isn't one to give up quickly, but neither is he the type to deny what's plain to him: he holds a lot less sway in her territory, and carries more questions about the House than he does answers.
But the similar answer quickly diverges as Lynette speaks further. She's far more open with him than Lyney is, even going so far as to say she wishes Arlecchino weren't so hard on her brother--an admission nearly unthinkable coming from Lyney, a slight give in an otherwise steadfast loyalty. And then, a suggestion he wouldn't have put his money on in a million years.
A trap.
He looks from the napkin to Lynette. It's...a hell of a proposal, even with the 'kidnapping' in mind. That, after all, was meant to trap Lyney foremost--and failing that, Arlecchino herself. He wonders what Lyney might think if he could see this exchange. Which would win out? Love for his sister, or fear of their Father? ]
[ She herself does risk quite a lot even suggesting it. A conversation, however, is not the end of the world. Father wants loyalty, but how can they be loyal if one of them is hurting? At risk? Lyney will spend almost 5 more months away from his family... and Lynette's known her whole life what family means to him. Lynette grabs her teacup and flips it upside down over the napkin. With a quick lift – the napkin was gone and the teacup empty. She holds it out to him. ]
Ta-da. Please, take this. If Lyney is allowed anything, it may be a nice gift. If not, you're free to add it to your collection. This is my "Lucky Cup", but one of many.
[ However, even as Wriothesley eats and sits with her – she doesn't see an enemy like she's told to. She does love Father, trusts Father but... ]
... Father is not a terrible person. The city looked at us differently for some time after it was revealed where the House of the Hearth's allegiance resided. The Fatui.... Father, their goals are simply different than what many would consider acceptable. [ Even now, she defends the Fatui. ] I suppose just as you ended up in your position, we ended up in ours due to our choices. It does not make us bad people. Just... Lyney is far more sensitive about how others view him.
[ Views their family. ]
When the world spends your entire life telling you you're worthless... that you are a mistake – the children of the House find comfort in someone who tells them anything is possible.
[ Lynette talks more than she had in recent times, but Wriothesley knows she can be a conversationalist when she wants to be. ]
[ 'A mistake'. No small wonder that Lyney responded so strongly to what he'd said back then. He hadn't meant it in that sense, of course...but the association rings firm enough to have bothered him. Wounded him. He remembers the look in Lyney's eyes, remembers the hand at his chin and the sound of his voice. What Wriothesley has been fighting not to remember comes back to him in vivid strokes, and won't soon leave.
He turns his gaze on Lynette. ]
I'll see what I can do about this.
[ He takes the teacup, knowing he can't quite give it to Lyney yet--lucky or no, it technically falls under the umbrella of contraband--but hoping the right time and place will make itself known. Whatever that may look like. ]
...It's as you say. We ended up on our respective paths due to our choices. [ Although Wriothesley wonders how much of a choice it is when you're a starving orphan and someone finally tells you you're worth something. He wouldn't have been able to say no in their shoes. From where he's standing, they're still kids being made to dance as puppets. ] There are many ways to get by in life, and we simply represent two. It's not a question of good or evil.
[ Lynette's already on that final pastry. Fingers ripping the end open and letting the dough flake onto the plate. It wasn't as if she was hungry – she was nervous. Little tells. The flick of her tail, the way her ears twitched and nose upturned... so fitting a cat tries to hide their feelings. ]
You're correct. If there were easier ways to be survive, I suppose we'd be a fool for not taking them. Father has given us a home, provided us with purpose and allowed us the chance to have what Lyney's always wanted – the spotlight. I'm forever grateful for her love and care for us.
[ There is no lying, she know the matter of love is just... a bit different. ]
I hope one day there will be a time where people don't view us one way over the other. Good... evil... we're just trying to survive. [ She dips her head down a bit, voice more quiet. ] I wish Father would understand that as well.
...Yes. It would be nice, but Fontanians love their roles just as they love a good performance. Good, evil...if a person can be placed in one box, they probably will be. No matter how unfair or untrue the designation.
[ Which isn't to say he's pessimistic, but there are certain things that haven't changed since the flood, and this is one of them. Spectacle and drama take precedent over the mundane truths even now. The way Wriothesley sees it, this is the most mundane truth of them all: that people are simply people. Even the grandest villains have their kindnesses, and those of most steadfast virtue have twistedness within them. There is no shadow without light, no light without a darkness to illuminate.
With his meal and tea finished, Wriothesley picks up the tab for them both. He holds out a hand for Lynette to shake. ]
It was a pleasure, Miss Lynette. As I've said, Lyney is doing well within the Fortress...but should anything change, you'll be the first to know.
[ The way she looks to him was so different than Lyney. Those eyes heavy with worry, her lips tense and trying not to frown or crack any smile. Neutral, safe – blending in with crowds around them easily despite the slow wag of her tail.
Wriothesley's words were painful truths and she nods in agreement. Even being a "good" girl brings others who wish her harm, being loyal sometimes is not enough as well. Such a role they play and now without the stage... she too, like Lyney, grow anxious.
Lynette takes his hand with both of hers. One cradling the underside of his wrist, the other on top. It's respectful and as she squeezes down – her voice is soft. ]
A pleasure. Please write me at your leisure as well if you have any further questions. I'll be sure to write back promptly.
[ It's lonely down there, she would guess. Lyney may have scolded her for having a pen pal the likes of Wriothesley, but the girl has little knowledge of what's really going on under the waves. Lynette slips her hands from his. ]
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no subject
Naturally, their thoughts intersect with Lyney. All told, he'd rather not think about the boy right now--would ideally be enjoying a meal under the sunlight, listening to the low murmur of free people going about their daily lives--but there isn't any avoiding it. He approached her, anyhow, and he has a certain responsibility for these things--to let the ones left behind know how their loved ones are faring, to enlighten them where the opportunity arises. ]
Were it in my power, I'd recommend a reduction to his sentence. Your brother has been a model prisoner. If anything at all should change, I'll see to it that you're notified immediately.
[ For the most part, it's the truth: other than the... recent incident, Lyney has kept out of trouble and worked for his living. He does what he can not to shift uncomfortably in his seat, saved by a passing waiter who stops and takes his order. He'll just have a light lunch.
Once that's done with, he turns his attention back to her. ]
I'm sorry there isn't more I can do for him. I know it must be hard.
no subject
...She can't say she would be proper if the situation changed but Wriothesley was met with respect by at least one of the twins. ]
Thank you. The sentiment is appreciated, but... Lyney seemed to have accepted everything without complaint. If this is the justice, a true justice, he was deemed fit to face –
[ He would face it again and again. Lynette remembers, tired as she was and in her own daze from captivity the fire roaring through the hillside. Lyney dragging her through mud and down the hill away and that secluded cabin but a firefly in the distance. Lyney showed no regret. ]
You are working within the same methods of justice, in helping it be served. [ There's a bit of sympathy in her eyes. She'd never want to run anything. Not like the Fortress, not like the Fatui. ] My brother is not the easiest to deal with, only because you know not where the cards truly wait to be played. The only time I've seen him play so plainly was his confession. It was black and white.
[ "If I save Lynette, send a message... I must pay for my crime. So be it."
Lynette sets her tea down and tilts her had curiously. ]
I just hope he listened to me about his temper. He really did not wish to make amends prior to... everything. I think part of him feared you.
no subject
Meropide can be a place for rebirth, but it's also a place where people are kept from their loved ones. Not everyone can be their best self in the face of that kind of isolation. [ No, Lyney's temper hasn't always been what Lynette hopes for--but Wriothesley never expected it to be. ] We've put to rest what happened back then, or at least as best we can, given everything. He's fiercely protective of you--so much that I don't know I'll ever be completely forgiven.
no subject
When they reunited after her 'kidnapping', Lyney clung to her. Scolded Wriothesley's name but... she knows why. He had control, he had the means to keep himself strong and guarded. They never did. Not without the Fatui. ]
All we know of it was what we were told. Be good or you'll be sent away to disappear under the sea. ...When our mission brought us there, we knew little about you. I suspect a part of him still feels like a boy when he feels he needs to be a man. [ Lyney looked to Wriothesley and felt a failure. ] I'm... glad to know he talked to you. So many words and reassurances that you never hurt me but – yes. His protections are a bit of a projection.
[ Will he be forgiven? She's not sure. Lynette takes a bite of her pastry, chewing it thoughtfully. A solid four minutes before she caved. ]
He thinks... he has to make up for things. Shortcomings... and things that may happen. My brother is a kind soul, warm and full of love for those he cherishes... but he's blinded by what has burned him. ...Burned our family. It's not you, it never has been.
[ She knows not to speak ill of Father and her... ah, forthcoming ways of love and protection. ]
I hope he does forgive you.
no subject
No one could know him better than you do. I'm fortunate to have your insight as to who Lyney is. He is, too--many inmates have no one to speak on their behalf at all.
[ He doesn't get the sense that Lynette will come flying at him over the table if he asks, but he does know he needs to tread carefully if he's to better understand the situation at hand. He's not hoping for much, at this point--circling back to their similarities, both seem perfectly loyal to the Fatui, to their Father--there's no one else to ask, short of trying the House in person and hoping Arlecchino is there. He'd rather not go that route. He rarely likes to throw the first jab. ]
But you say Lyney feels he has to make up for things. Even things that may happen. What sort of things may happen, if I might ask?
no subject
Lynette's posture changes just enough for Wriothesley to notice. A bit more defensive, her eyes down to the final pastry between them. ]
I don't... know. [ She's careful with her words. ] I suppose I could assume that everything we have. Our show, our home, our friends, our family... he's afraid it will be taken from him for one reason or another. There are many of nights where Lyney can't sleep even with a pile of kittens on him and clanks around the house. Practicing tricks, preparing for tomorrow's jokes, that sort. He grows restless but –
[ Lynette hates lying. Turning the other cheek like she cannot see the fear in Lyney's eyes the more serious of roles he's been given in their house. ]
I do not understand it, but even if 'Father' is, well, Father... Lyney feels a responsibility to care for us in the same manner. He shouldn't, but... I know he does. Father encourages it, after all. Who does not want to appease Father?
no subject
His order comes to him as he ruminates on what Lynette says. By now his appetite has waned--it's insidious, this leveraging of what Lyney cares for most, this total shared obedience toward someone who would snatch away that which they hold dear. Wriothesley's parents were similarly brutal, but hardly prone to mind games of this sort. His own punishments come to mind, muffled, the edges worn off of them by time. ]
To be honest, I had hoped I might eventually speak with your Father. [ These requests never seem to go well, so he doesn't put it forward as one: rather, more like a passing fancy. He starts in on his meal in small bites, swallowing before he continues. ] He writes to her, as you know, but for some parents of incarcerated children, letters are scarcely enough.
no subject
Why? [ The same question Lyney pleaded, but asked so softly and tentatively. ] If Father wishes to reach out, needs to... she finds a way.
[ She allows him to eat, finishing her tea before setting the cup to the side. ]
...She's disappointed that Lyney went against her and I know it hurts him. He was sure in his choices, he always is when it comes to me but... [ Oh, that but – ] – but we all know questioning Father means questioning the life we've been gifted. I... I wish she wasn't so hard on him –
[ Lynette cares in turn, knows how hard Lyney has to work to appease her. Silently, she begins to fold her napkin. Idly, until she lays a circle between them. Sharp cuts upwards – it looks like a bear trap. ]
I think there is only one way to meet with Father.
[ Trap her. Lynette's deathly white just suggesting it – but if something is going on with Lyney... ]
no subject
But the similar answer quickly diverges as Lynette speaks further. She's far more open with him than Lyney is, even going so far as to say she wishes Arlecchino weren't so hard on her brother--an admission nearly unthinkable coming from Lyney, a slight give in an otherwise steadfast loyalty. And then, a suggestion he wouldn't have put his money on in a million years.
A trap.
He looks from the napkin to Lynette. It's...a hell of a proposal, even with the 'kidnapping' in mind. That, after all, was meant to trap Lyney foremost--and failing that, Arlecchino herself. He wonders what Lyney might think if he could see this exchange. Which would win out? Love for his sister, or fear of their Father? ]
...I'll keep that in mind.
no subject
Ta-da. Please, take this. If Lyney is allowed anything, it may be a nice gift. If not, you're free to add it to your collection. This is my "Lucky Cup", but one of many.
[ However, even as Wriothesley eats and sits with her – she doesn't see an enemy like she's told to. She does love Father, trusts Father but... ]
... Father is not a terrible person. The city looked at us differently for some time after it was revealed where the House of the Hearth's allegiance resided. The Fatui.... Father, their goals are simply different than what many would consider acceptable. [ Even now, she defends the Fatui. ] I suppose just as you ended up in your position, we ended up in ours due to our choices. It does not make us bad people. Just... Lyney is far more sensitive about how others view him.
[ Views their family. ]
When the world spends your entire life telling you you're worthless... that you are a mistake – the children of the House find comfort in someone who tells them anything is possible.
[ Lynette talks more than she had in recent times, but Wriothesley knows she can be a conversationalist when she wants to be. ]
no subject
He turns his gaze on Lynette. ]
I'll see what I can do about this.
[ He takes the teacup, knowing he can't quite give it to Lyney yet--lucky or no, it technically falls under the umbrella of contraband--but hoping the right time and place will make itself known. Whatever that may look like. ]
...It's as you say. We ended up on our respective paths due to our choices. [ Although Wriothesley wonders how much of a choice it is when you're a starving orphan and someone finally tells you you're worth something. He wouldn't have been able to say no in their shoes. From where he's standing, they're still kids being made to dance as puppets. ] There are many ways to get by in life, and we simply represent two. It's not a question of good or evil.
no subject
[ Lynette's already on that final pastry. Fingers ripping the end open and letting the dough flake onto the plate. It wasn't as if she was hungry – she was nervous. Little tells. The flick of her tail, the way her ears twitched and nose upturned... so fitting a cat tries to hide their feelings. ]
You're correct. If there were easier ways to be survive, I suppose we'd be a fool for not taking them. Father has given us a home, provided us with purpose and allowed us the chance to have what Lyney's always wanted – the spotlight. I'm forever grateful for her love and care for us.
[ There is no lying, she know the matter of love is just... a bit different. ]
I hope one day there will be a time where people don't view us one way over the other. Good... evil... we're just trying to survive. [ She dips her head down a bit, voice more quiet. ] I wish Father would understand that as well.
no subject
[ Which isn't to say he's pessimistic, but there are certain things that haven't changed since the flood, and this is one of them. Spectacle and drama take precedent over the mundane truths even now. The way Wriothesley sees it, this is the most mundane truth of them all: that people are simply people. Even the grandest villains have their kindnesses, and those of most steadfast virtue have twistedness within them. There is no shadow without light, no light without a darkness to illuminate.
With his meal and tea finished, Wriothesley picks up the tab for them both. He holds out a hand for Lynette to shake. ]
It was a pleasure, Miss Lynette. As I've said, Lyney is doing well within the Fortress...but should anything change, you'll be the first to know.
no subject
Wriothesley's words were painful truths and she nods in agreement. Even being a "good" girl brings others who wish her harm, being loyal sometimes is not enough as well. Such a role they play and now without the stage... she too, like Lyney, grow anxious.
Lynette takes his hand with both of hers. One cradling the underside of his wrist, the other on top. It's respectful and as she squeezes down – her voice is soft. ]
A pleasure. Please write me at your leisure as well if you have any further questions. I'll be sure to write back promptly.
[ It's lonely down there, she would guess. Lyney may have scolded her for having a pen pal the likes of Wriothesley, but the girl has little knowledge of what's really going on under the waves. Lynette slips her hands from his. ]
Safe travels.