[ It isnāt long until letters return to Wriothesleyās office for Lyney. One for each one sent out. Unimaginative envelopes, plain white and blends in with the assortment received.
But for Lyney? It was noted to return to the Duke of anything suspicious was to arise.
Freminetās letters were fine, if not a little lonely. He wants to show his new diving spot when Lyney returns to him most of all.
Lynetteās are mostly untouched except for a letter with a note on top: āinappropriateā it reads.
Lyney,
The hours feel like years and it brings me back to nights under a starless sky. Where the steam from the pipes would black out any twinklesā¦
I donāt like it.
However, you are already nearing a month or so. Those hours are inconsequential to you returning to me. You promised you always would and I know not to disbelieve you.
I am returning to work this week for Father. They are unhappy that Freminet is pulling your workload for mundane matters. Your usual day to days.
She scolded him enough to bring tears and I donāt know how to feel. How do you do this? Oh, my brother, your warmth has left us without. Left my bed cold, left my heart frigid.
I will do everything I can to provide. To stay strong when you have done so many times before. My promise to you, pinky promise like we made as children.
ā¦ The man went to a care facility today. He is trying to recuperate his throat. To give some Interview. I donāt like it.
The Gardes are ensuring he does not have total freedom but he has more than you.
Itās not fair.
Return to me.
Love, Lynette
The weight of that letter folds in two papers but the other marked oneā¦ only a few choice words.
āDo not stray from me again, lamb. -Aā
Lyney is in his bunk, fiddling with the tension of the cotton sheets and trying his best to make such a thing comfortable. He really was having issues sleeping, but he feels cold beyond anything. The same as Lynette.
He finishes up and gets called ā a demand from a subordinate that the Duke is requesting him for an update on some task heās been focused on this week.
Technically true, but thereās something hanging in the air that Lyney isnāt picking up on. Secrets begging to be revealed, threats that donāt sit well.
Lyney knocks a sing-song way before entering. Eyes canvassing over the room before making the trek to that familiar desk. ]
You called? I told the guy itās not able to be worked on until the water subsides in the overflow tank. So if itās about thatā¦
[ True to his word, Wriothesley has the letters delivered in the overworld. He also extends a request to the manager of Meropide's mail room: until further notice, anything from the House of Hearth goes to his desk before it reaches its intended correspondent. Not for suspicion, which would be the typical reason for bypassing the usual channels--rather to make sure Lyney gets his mail at all. The agreement had only stipulated that Wriothesley would get the mail delivered safely in exchange for coupons--nothing to say of what might happen to the eventual replies--but he feels some obligation to see to it that Lyney's letters aren't interfered with more than necessary in the usual cycle of prison correspondence.
That being said, there's only so much he can do with the systems in place. The letters back to him still have to go through the mail room for the usual checks--contraband, and the like--before they make it to Wriothesley's desk. And so they're opened by the time they're in Wriothesley's hands.
He's just about due for a meeting when the letters are given to him by a guard, and so he can't have the contents sent along immediately. He means to stow them temporarily in one of his desk drawers until he can have them given to their intended recipient. Which is when it happens.
One of the envelopes--marked "inappropriate"; a designation he'll really have to have the mail room do away with entirely, being that 'inappropriate' does not equal 'dangerous' or 'anyone else's damned business'--is stuffed carelessly, and the contents spill out onto his desk. Wriothesley isn't one to pry, isn't one to read what has nothing to do with him--but he does inadvertently catch some of the wording elegantly penned as he places the paper back into its envelope.
...my brother, your warmth has left us without. Left my bed cold, left my heart frigid.
---
No, it's not about the overflow tank.
Rather, Wriothesley calls Lyney to his office about the letters--not about the contents, which have sat themselves awkwardly in the back of his mind since his slip-up, but rather in making sure that everything got to him in one piece. The pipeline of prison mail is one that often leaves inmates frustrated, embarrassed. Lyney seems at higher risk in his mind, more prone to acting out if anything should interfere with his only current connection to his family, susceptible to the stresses of corresponding in incarceration. Hence his earlier sense of obligation: see to it that Lyney gets all the letters he's entitled to, all in complete form. For the sake of his wellbeing.
He straightens his tie as Lyney sits before him. ]
It's not about that. [ ...He doesn't mean to, but it's hard not to think of the dash of Lynette's letter--possibly Freminet's, but he doubts it on handwriting alone--caught unintentionally. "Left my bed cold"? There are only so many ways to interpret that. ] I entrusted a guard with your mail earlier. Did it find you well?
[ All that mattered was the main was sent. Selfishly, he wants letters back but heās not fully sure how the systems work. Wriothesley and him only discussed coupons for outbound mail.
Each letter had been stuffed under his bed, Lynetteās under his pillow.
Alone again in the Dukeās office, little by littleā¦ the anger he had merely seeing Wriothesley had subsided. Heās neutral, as if a cat was beginning to trust someone doing well by him. Lyney doesnāt think too hard on it. ]
I did. Thank you. Those letters are a good motivator. I think my work today shows that. [ Was he finishing for validation? Who knows. ] When is the next time I can prepare letters? Iām not expecting you to break routine, justā¦ let me know what the schedule is so I can ensure youāre paid.
[ He tries not to think about "a good motivator" in relation to that earlier line, focusing instead on the original intention behind all of this. The letters are keeping his mental state from deteriorating. That's a good thing. ]
Whenever you have the coupons for it. [ He makes a small gesture. ] Of course, you still have the option to bypass the coupon exchange entirely and use the mail room for free like everyone else. I don't think the risk--or the delay--is what you're imagining it to be.
[ He is a little silent, small. The fear of his tether to the outside world being cut is what worries him. He has to be there for Lynette, to be devout to Father. Lyney takes a seat, across from him with legs crossed.
Comfortable; perhaps a bit too much. ]
Iām Fatui ā thereās always someone with a number out for us. I wish to make sure all lines are connected ā¦ like strings back to the overworld.
[ But, he knows how pleasing Lynetteās letters were ā such a sweet girl, deserving of the sun on creamy skin and heat in her belly. ]
[ True enough. Lyney spending coupons necessitates Lyney generating coupons. He tries to prevent idle hands within his Fortress. If his mind is made up about the matter, there's probably no changing it--Lyney's distrust in the world around him runs deep, and reconnecting with his family likely only strengthens that conviction. He shrugs. ]
Well, you can get what you want here, as long as you pay the price.
[ Next time, Wriothesley won't take the letters in advance. Coupons, then mail. He'll be firm about it. ]
I made it clear whatever the price is, itāll be paid. [ He didnāt care. Lyney knows the end goal: his sister alone bearing his responsibility and his brother left falling short. His Father was not happy to lose their prized agent, their child (or lamb) straying too far from them.
For now: Father has no eyes here.
Soā¦ the offer of tea after a long day sounds more acceptable than he would like. He was a fan of it, often enjoying afternoon sweet sips or calming cups when his nerves were shot.
Neither of those were the reason why he says: ]
Iām starting to think youāre lonely for company if you keep asking.
[ Luckily, Wriothesley already has a pot brewed. A white tea, low on caffeine and lightly floral, imported just recently from Inazuma. It's been interesting getting to try their offerings--probably not anything Lyney wants to hear about, he surmises, but he won't let that dash his momentary fascination. ]
And I'm surprised the Fatui allow a mouth like that on you.
[ He doubts Lyney talks like that in the presence of his Father, but it only seems fair to poke fun. He pours both of them a cup. ]
[ Lyney scoffs for only a second before biting his tongue. The last thing he wants is for Wriothesley to get on him about something else. This back and forth... it was lighter than embers raising from a fire of hatred.
Challenging, in ways that frustrate Lyney. ]
After those untalkative operatives? I'm a breath of fresh air! [ He takes the tea with a nod. ] No one heard me my entire life, you know. Fontaine turned ears to matters that made them feel bad about their precious city. ... I say it's all fair for me to speak without holding back when I have an audience now.
[ From over the rim of his cup, Wriothesley's brows lift. For once, this doesn't strike him as animosity toward him--toward the world in general, rather. What's got him so upset, then? Something within the correspondence? ]
I can't disagree with that. For a nation that prides itself upon its 'good', Fontanians are only too adept at looking away from those of us who could use some of that kindness.
[ He only became the Administrator three years ago, and a Duke even more recently. He knows all too well what it's like not to have a voice. Some days, he still feels like he's still pulling the thorns from his heart. ]
[ He takes only a sip before that dry voice lets him pick up on something. He was taught as a budding magician to always find strings to tug on during shows, make the illusion feel real... go for moments the audience will think of long into the night.
Us, was a word that floats lonely in a sea of unheard voices. Something familiar, something Lyney reaches out to. ]
[ He places his teacup upon its plate, quiet for a moment. Is Lyney skeptical of him? Simply curious? Wriothesley wouldn't blame him one way or the other: Lyney only knows him in this specific capacity, the Administrator, the Duke. What only comprises a small fraction of his life is the sole identity by which many people know him. Most wouldn't guess at his prior struggles. His former life. ]
Sigewinne, although you might not believe that. [ A small smile. ] These days I'm better about it, but I didn't always come out of the ring unscathed.
[ But he has a feeling that's not what Lyney means. Kindness in the greater scope of things, rather--the sort that changes one's life. Saves one's life. ]
...But other than her, I'm not so sure. It hasn't all been bad, but most of it hasn't been easy, either. Even before I was a convict most people were content to look the other way.
[ Sigewinne was a conundrum ā a mystery he hasnāt had a single chance to understand. The bitterness of the tranq shot subsided after the flood but he still tries to avoid her. Her loyalty to Wriothesley is definitely one of the reasons.
Kindness was a blanket that was draped across Lynette when he could not save her, it was three meals a day, it was a tutelage of magicā¦
Kindness was looking fondly at those who sees him and his family.
When Wriothesley speaks so calmly about his prior role ā enough for him to speak out without any filter. ]
Did you kill the past Duke too?
[ The Knave infamously did. It was the first thing he could connect. ]
[ The frankness of the question causes him to chuckle. Even with Meropide's autonomy, he scarcely believes he'd be allowed to serve as Administrator if he'd killed the last one. One never knows, he supposes. Does he give that impression? ]
He fled before I could. [ It's the truth: Wriothesley would have done anything at the time to get his fortune back. He wouldn't have challenged him to a duel if that hadn't been the case. ] I only took up the Fortress' duties because there was no one else left to do it in his absence. So you could say that Lady Luck showed me some kindness, too.
[ There will come a time when the Knave will need to be replaced. Father has no guilt or anger at the temptation ā but he will fill the role when Farher is gone. He isnāt sure if he will duel her for the role or take the title when her body grows old and tiredā¦
But he knows what awaits him. ]
But, you would have. For just cause, wouldnāt you?
[ He prods only a little before sipping on his tea. The revelation that he was once a convict has him more thoughtful. He isnāt sure if Wriothesley was wrong for itā¦ but it wasnāt him who cast judgment. ]
Iām sure the perks of Dukehood isnāt something to scoff at. Lady Luck or not, here you sit in a comfortable little fantasy.
[ Does he truly seem like a just person? Wriothesley likes to think of himself as fair, and being the Administrator of Meropide places him on a certain side of the law, but he'd hardly call himself any sort of avatar for justice. He only acted when the previous Administrator cleared his savings, after all. No other injustice sparked him to action. In that sense, he's not terribly different from other Fontanian who looks the other way. Maybe that's why he's largely let go of his resentment for the world. ]
Who knows? I had initially planned to buy my way into a better life. I was doing things his way until he cleared my coupon account in one night. Only then did I challenge him to a duel.
[ Saying it like that, it feels like it happened eons ago, not a handful of years. The interim has been comfortable--the stuff he could only have imagined as a child. In that sense, maybe he does live in a sort of fantasy. But something doesn't sit right, terming it like that. He wouldn't be here now if not for the struggles that he was reborn in. ]
You'd be right, it's not something to scoff at. I live a good life now. [ A momentary pause. ] But just as what-ifs don't change the past, titles don't, either.
[ It doesnāt change the past, it doesnāt bring redemption for crimes and planned attacked. Wriothesley found a path to follow, he walked down it without looking back and ohā¦ Lyney envied him for it. ]
So he moved the goal post. Such is life. When you think you have somethingā¦
[ He thought he had a family, full of magic and charm ā the kind they could protect one another but it just wasnāt true. There were wolves out there that little lambs and cats alike feared. ]
So, why can those born to privilege and power not look back as we do? [ We. ] Your title is all I know you as. Youāre right, it doesnāt change it ā but perception is quite a funny thing.
[ 'We'? A small smile bends the corner of his lip, although really, it shouldn't. They're...moving into questionable territory. There's no shame in sharing his story with any of the inmates, trading sympathies or otherwise, but...there's ease in this. Comfortableness where there shouldn't be. Familiarity. And underscoring it all, his earlier fears playing faintly at the back of his mind, where he keeps them under lock and key: that maybe he sees a little too much of himself in Lyney.
He ought to send the boy to bed. He doesn't. ]
I wonder if you'd ever perceive me as a fellow orphan.
[ Lyney freezes, his hand clasping the corner of his cup to save a brew he finds quite pleasant. It would be a shame.
The moment hangs in the air and he doesnāt say a word for what feels like a century. Tired eyesā¦ marks he canāt hideā¦ wounds on his heart he doesnāt show but Lyney knows theyāre there. If heās an orphanā¦ ]
You know what is in my intake forms, the inmates donāt get that luxury to the Duke.
[ He has to wear his wounds in a different way than Lyney. ]
[ What Lyney says is true: his opinions of the people he interacts with tend to be better-informed than the reverse. But then most people aren't terribly interested in him, focused more on surviving themselves within Fontaine's justice system. It suits him just fine. He isn't ashamed of his past, but neither is he opposed to being truthful about it. ]
Oh? Then what do you see? A happy, peaceful childhood?
[ And in which way would Lyney like him to bend--in casual conversation, or in his duties? Here and now late in the night, or in the everyday? Wriothesley can't give him the latter, but he can give him the former.
He leans back in his chair, relaxes. Looks Lyney over. And after a few moments of silence, continues down this path he's so unsure of--this easiness, this quiet thing that grows between them. ]
Abandoned in infancy. Taken in by a 'good' family. Until they weren't. [ He offers the words placidly, free from any of the sadness they once represented for him. ] I have my foster parents' blood on my hands. They were rotten people to the core. I didn't always have control, and I wasn't born a Duke--life simply turned out that way.
[ Fontaine loves their rumors. Following trials, it spreads like wildfire. Business shared, opinions made and yetā¦ this one? It was buried over time. Lyney felt a little shell shocked by it, almost betrayed in some weird way. He has his allegiances with the House but from his knowledge - Wriothesley was never among their ranksā¦ huh.
The more Wriothesley talks, the more Lyney settles. Eyes shut, back to the chair and his heart settling from anxiousness.
There's a similarity, he thinks of how well people spoke of him and Lynette. Ulterior motives that he's sure Wriothesley have no clue of for his own life too. What paths they walked... different, but similar. He never got a chance to kill the ones that hurt Lynette ā Father did and deep down, he is still bitter about it. ]
Life has a funny way to guide you. Iām sure you never would have chose this for yourself, would you?
[ Another question, another echo. He never wanted to be the Knave ā but it saves his siblings from being groomed or the other House orphans from being trained. Lyney took the heavy brunt of work, sinned and let his hands bloody too.
He once told the traveler all he did was fib and oh, how that lie stung. ]
Rotten people deserve to be lost to the world. Squandering chances no one has but themā¦ itās a bit sick. The land of justice turned its eyes to those who deserved it. Who are we to blame? The people, our Archon, our order? No. I blame no one, but we took comfort in people that showed us kindness and allowed us to make choices. For better or worse, that was a luxury denied from us.
Edited (REWRITES THIS BC IM ACTUALLY COGNIZANT NOW...) 2024-01-23 20:53 (UTC)
[ All told, Wriothesley doesn't know what he might have chosen for himself. Choice and the agonizing lack thereof have played their roles in his life like left and right hands. One of the grand what-ifs, a question he can only begin to guess at. What he does know is Meropide in his time as an inmate was unlivable. Something had to give. ]
Then allow me to turn the question on you. Who's shown you kindness, Lyney? Humor me.
[ Goodness knows he's said enough about himself already. Lyney likely knows more about him than anyone else in the Fortress, now. And to think it came so easily...if he's made a mistake in showing his cards to a magician, he'll swallow it down with some tea. ]
Father. She'd expect it ā that loyalty burned into his very soul. A debt he owes because she saved Lynette when he couldn't. Taken in Freminet when he had no one else. Kept a house of throwaway children into a true home.
But, his words were quick, too much for his own lips. ]
Cesar.
[ He feels vulnerable. ]
Lynette. Freminet. My siblings. [ Noticeably last: ] Father.
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and all those words turn to sand [PART FOUR]
But for Lyney? It was noted to return to the Duke of anything suspicious was to arise.
Freminetās letters were fine, if not a little lonely. He wants to show his new diving spot when Lyney returns to him most of all.
Lynetteās are mostly untouched except for a letter with a note on top: āinappropriateā it reads.
Lyney,
The hours feel like years and it brings me back to nights under a starless sky. Where the steam from the pipes would black out any twinklesā¦
I donāt like it.
However, you are already nearing a month or so. Those hours are inconsequential to you returning to me. You promised you always would and I know not to disbelieve you.
I am returning to work this week for Father. They are unhappy that Freminet is pulling your workload for mundane matters. Your usual day to days.
She scolded him enough to bring tears and I donāt know how to feel. How do you do this? Oh, my brother, your warmth has left us without. Left my bed cold, left my heart frigid.
I will do everything I can to provide. To stay strong when you have done so many times before. My promise to you, pinky promise like we made as children.
ā¦ The man went to a care facility today. He is trying to recuperate his throat. To give some Interview. I donāt like it.
The Gardes are ensuring he does not have total freedom but he has more than you.
Itās not fair.
Return to me.
Love, Lynette
The weight of that letter folds in two papers but the other marked oneā¦ only a few choice words.
āDo not stray from me again, lamb. -Aā
Lyney is in his bunk, fiddling with the tension of the cotton sheets and trying his best to make such a thing comfortable. He really was having issues sleeping, but he feels cold beyond anything. The same as Lynette.
He finishes up and gets called ā a demand from a subordinate that the Duke is requesting him for an update on some task heās been focused on this week.
Technically true, but thereās something hanging in the air that Lyney isnāt picking up on. Secrets begging to be revealed, threats that donāt sit well.
Lyney knocks a sing-song way before entering. Eyes canvassing over the room before making the trek to that familiar desk. ]
You called? I told the guy itās not able to be worked on until the water subsides in the overflow tank. So if itās about thatā¦
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That being said, there's only so much he can do with the systems in place. The letters back to him still have to go through the mail room for the usual checks--contraband, and the like--before they make it to Wriothesley's desk. And so they're opened by the time they're in Wriothesley's hands.
He's just about due for a meeting when the letters are given to him by a guard, and so he can't have the contents sent along immediately. He means to stow them temporarily in one of his desk drawers until he can have them given to their intended recipient. Which is when it happens.
One of the envelopes--marked "inappropriate"; a designation he'll really have to have the mail room do away with entirely, being that 'inappropriate' does not equal 'dangerous' or 'anyone else's damned business'--is stuffed carelessly, and the contents spill out onto his desk. Wriothesley isn't one to pry, isn't one to read what has nothing to do with him--but he does inadvertently catch some of the wording elegantly penned as he places the paper back into its envelope.
...my brother, your warmth has left us without. Left my bed cold, left my heart frigid.
No, it's not about the overflow tank.
Rather, Wriothesley calls Lyney to his office about the letters--not about the contents, which have sat themselves awkwardly in the back of his mind since his slip-up, but rather in making sure that everything got to him in one piece. The pipeline of prison mail is one that often leaves inmates frustrated, embarrassed. Lyney seems at higher risk in his mind, more prone to acting out if anything should interfere with his only current connection to his family, susceptible to the stresses of corresponding in incarceration. Hence his earlier sense of obligation: see to it that Lyney gets all the letters he's entitled to, all in complete form. For the sake of his wellbeing.
He straightens his tie as Lyney sits before him. ]
It's not about that. [ ...He doesn't mean to, but it's hard not to think of the dash of Lynette's letter--possibly Freminet's, but he doubts it on handwriting alone--caught unintentionally. "Left my bed cold"? There are only so many ways to interpret that. ] I entrusted a guard with your mail earlier. Did it find you well?
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Each letter had been stuffed under his bed, Lynetteās under his pillow.
Alone again in the Dukeās office, little by littleā¦ the anger he had merely seeing Wriothesley had subsided. Heās neutral, as if a cat was beginning to trust someone doing well by him. Lyney doesnāt think too hard on it. ]
I did. Thank you. Those letters are a good motivator. I think my work today shows that. [ Was he finishing for validation? Who knows. ] When is the next time I can prepare letters? Iām not expecting you to break routine, justā¦ let me know what the schedule is so I can ensure youāre paid.
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Whenever you have the coupons for it. [ He makes a small gesture. ] Of course, you still have the option to bypass the coupon exchange entirely and use the mail room for free like everyone else. I don't think the risk--or the delay--is what you're imagining it to be.
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Comfortable; perhaps a bit too much. ]
Iām Fatui ā thereās always someone with a number out for us. I wish to make sure all lines are connected ā¦ like strings back to the overworld.
[ But, he knows how pleasing Lynetteās letters were ā such a sweet girl, deserving of the sun on creamy skin and heat in her belly. ]
Gives you a reason to keep me in line, too.
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Well, you can get what you want here, as long as you pay the price.
[ Next time, Wriothesley won't take the letters in advance. Coupons, then mail. He'll be firm about it. ]
Cup of tea?
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For now: Father has no eyes here.
Soā¦ the offer of tea after a long day sounds more acceptable than he would like. He was a fan of it, often enjoying afternoon sweet sips or calming cups when his nerves were shot.
Neither of those were the reason why he says: ]
Iām starting to think youāre lonely for company if you keep asking.
[ It was light, but he nods. ]
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And I'm surprised the Fatui allow a mouth like that on you.
[ He doubts Lyney talks like that in the presence of his Father, but it only seems fair to poke fun. He pours both of them a cup. ]
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Challenging, in ways that frustrate Lyney. ]
After those untalkative operatives? I'm a breath of fresh air! [ He takes the tea with a nod. ] No one heard me my entire life, you know. Fontaine turned ears to matters that made them feel bad about their precious city. ... I say it's all fair for me to speak without holding back when I have an audience now.
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I can't disagree with that. For a nation that prides itself upon its 'good', Fontanians are only too adept at looking away from those of us who could use some of that kindness.
[ He only became the Administrator three years ago, and a Duke even more recently. He knows all too well what it's like not to have a voice. Some days, he still feels like he's still pulling the thorns from his heart. ]
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Us, was a word that floats lonely in a sea of unheard voices. Something familiar, something Lyney reaches out to. ]
Who has shown you kindness then, Your Grace?
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Sigewinne, although you might not believe that. [ A small smile. ] These days I'm better about it, but I didn't always come out of the ring unscathed.
[ But he has a feeling that's not what Lyney means. Kindness in the greater scope of things, rather--the sort that changes one's life. Saves one's life. ]
...But other than her, I'm not so sure. It hasn't all been bad, but most of it hasn't been easy, either. Even before I was a convict most people were content to look the other way.
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Kindness was a blanket that was draped across Lynette when he could not save her, it was three meals a day, it was a tutelage of magicā¦
Kindness was looking fondly at those who sees him and his family.
When Wriothesley speaks so calmly about his prior role ā enough for him to speak out without any filter. ]
Did you kill the past Duke too?
[ The Knave infamously did. It was the first thing he could connect. ]
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He fled before I could. [ It's the truth: Wriothesley would have done anything at the time to get his fortune back. He wouldn't have challenged him to a duel if that hadn't been the case. ] I only took up the Fortress' duties because there was no one else left to do it in his absence. So you could say that Lady Luck showed me some kindness, too.
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But he knows what awaits him. ]
But, you would have. For just cause, wouldnāt you?
[ He prods only a little before sipping on his tea. The revelation that he was once a convict has him more thoughtful. He isnāt sure if Wriothesley was wrong for itā¦ but it wasnāt him who cast judgment. ]
Iām sure the perks of Dukehood isnāt something to scoff at. Lady Luck or not, here you sit in a comfortable little fantasy.
[ He feels jealous, honestly. ]
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Who knows? I had initially planned to buy my way into a better life. I was doing things his way until he cleared my coupon account in one night. Only then did I challenge him to a duel.
[ Saying it like that, it feels like it happened eons ago, not a handful of years. The interim has been comfortable--the stuff he could only have imagined as a child. In that sense, maybe he does live in a sort of fantasy. But something doesn't sit right, terming it like that. He wouldn't be here now if not for the struggles that he was reborn in. ]
You'd be right, it's not something to scoff at. I live a good life now. [ A momentary pause. ] But just as what-ifs don't change the past, titles don't, either.
no subject
So he moved the goal post. Such is life. When you think you have somethingā¦
[ He thought he had a family, full of magic and charm ā the kind they could protect one another but it just wasnāt true. There were wolves out there that little lambs and cats alike feared. ]
So, why can those born to privilege and power not look back as we do? [ We. ] Your title is all I know you as. Youāre right, it doesnāt change it ā but perception is quite a funny thing.
no subject
He ought to send the boy to bed. He doesn't. ]
I wonder if you'd ever perceive me as a fellow orphan.
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The moment hangs in the air and he doesnāt say a word for what feels like a century. Tired eyesā¦ marks he canāt hideā¦ wounds on his heart he doesnāt show but Lyney knows theyāre there. If heās an orphanā¦ ]
You know what is in my intake forms, the inmates donāt get that luxury to the Duke.
[ He has to wear his wounds in a different way than Lyney. ]
I donāt see an orphan when I look at you.
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Oh? Then what do you see? A happy, peaceful childhood?
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[ Lyney shrugs, raising the tea to his lips. He finishes it off, full gulps until the saucer was left empty end set between them. ]
Hard seeing you as anything other than this. You have control, you have a stage in a way to captivate and command.
[ To have people listen and trust him, depend on him so long as they play by his rules. ]
I think the rules are a little stuffy, butā¦ you take this seriously. Itās frustrating that you donāt bendā¦ everyone else seems to.
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He leans back in his chair, relaxes. Looks Lyney over. And after a few moments of silence, continues down this path he's so unsure of--this easiness, this quiet thing that grows between them. ]
Abandoned in infancy. Taken in by a 'good' family. Until they weren't. [ He offers the words placidly, free from any of the sadness they once represented for him. ] I have my foster parents' blood on my hands. They were rotten people to the core. I didn't always have control, and I wasn't born a Duke--life simply turned out that way.
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The more Wriothesley talks, the more Lyney settles. Eyes shut, back to the chair and his heart settling from anxiousness.
There's a similarity, he thinks of how well people spoke of him and Lynette. Ulterior motives that he's sure Wriothesley have no clue of for his own life too. What paths they walked... different, but similar. He never got a chance to kill the ones that hurt Lynette ā Father did and deep down, he is still bitter about it. ]
Life has a funny way to guide you. Iām sure you never would have chose this for yourself, would you?
[ Another question, another echo. He never wanted to be the Knave ā but it saves his siblings from being groomed or the other House orphans from being trained. Lyney took the heavy brunt of work, sinned and let his hands bloody too.
He once told the traveler all he did was fib and oh, how that lie stung. ]
Rotten people deserve to be lost to the world. Squandering chances no one has but themā¦ itās a bit sick. The land of justice turned its eyes to those who deserved it. Who are we to blame? The people, our Archon, our order? No. I blame no one, but we took comfort in people that showed us kindness and allowed us to make choices. For better or worse, that was a luxury denied from us.
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Then allow me to turn the question on you. Who's shown you kindness, Lyney? Humor me.
[ Goodness knows he's said enough about himself already. Lyney likely knows more about him than anyone else in the Fortress, now. And to think it came so easily...if he's made a mistake in showing his cards to a magician, he'll swallow it down with some tea. ]
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It should.
Father. She'd expect it ā that loyalty burned into his very soul. A debt he owes because she saved Lynette when he couldn't. Taken in Freminet when he had no one else. Kept a house of throwaway children into a true home.
But, his words were quick, too much for his own lips. ]
Cesar.
[ He feels vulnerable. ]
Lynette. Freminet. My siblings. [ Noticeably last: ] Father.
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