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[deadelfwalking]

 

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"Leave a message, if you must."

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[deadelfwalking]

[The place isn't nearly so nice as his last one; it's half-skeletal and only a little more than a simple lean-to at present, with the most finished space being reserved for Martin's use. Koltira's sitting on the ground; he reaches one arm up to open the rough-hewn door. Everything of the place has been cobbled together from bits and pieces of old Exsilium.]

I am sorry. I don't have much to offer you.

[totallytrustworthy]

Cozy. [Typical Chloe humor, though she says it mildly when she ducks in through the rickety looking door. Shakes the snow from her boots a step or two in to keep from tracking it about. ] Fortunately enough for us both I don't happen to need anything.

But you do: what's going on?

[deadelfwalking]

[No worries, Chloe; the wooden floor is sanded and polished, but it's not the nicest stock in the first place. Towards the back -- Martin's space, a separate room entirely, and closed off -- there's a tiny hearth. He drags himself up to start a fire; avoids eye contact.]

Bariyan has returned, but he is not the man I knew. Seviilia does not listen to my commands.

And Ashraf told me --

[It's so absurd. He purses his lips. Mutters.]

He told me that he loved me.

[totallytrustworthy]

[She almost chokes out a noise at that. Uh. What. ]

You're joking.

He's joking.

--right?

[deadelfwalking]

No. He was not. But.

[Koltira stokes the fire, scowling.]

He loves someone else, as well.

[totallytrustworthy]

[He's not joking, then. Chloe's brow furrows. ]

And did anyone tell him that's not really how romance works?

[deadelfwalking]

[Koltira sneers at the little flame.]

Oh, he's well aware. Awash in guilt. But what use is that to me?

[totallytrustworthy]

[Guilt. If ever there was a self serving emotion in matters of the heart, it's guilt; Chloe's lost count of how many times guilt has only ever made the indecisive even less responsible than they otherwise would be.]

None. And if I were you I'd tell him to fuck right off.

[deadelfwalking]

[Koltira's too fired-up thinking about the situation to even register that remark. He keeps stoking the fire -- with much more violence than necessary -- and hisses.]

He is in love with that spitting child of a ... a lawyer.

[He doesn't say it like a foreign word; there are equivalents in Azeroth. It's more incredulity that someone so fucking illogical and stupid could have the job in the first place.]

[totallytrustworthy]

...Sonya?

[deadelfwalking]

[he grinds his teeth, spitting the name as though referring to some species of intrusive vermin.]

Yes. Ms. Karimov. She is a cruel, vile snake of a woman.

[totallytrustworthy]

Ah....[Cue one quizzical little stare as she tries to match up the description with the name. One of these things is not like the other; one of these things just doesn't belong.]

Starting to think you might know a different Sonya, here.

[deadelfwalking]

[He gestures to his tablet, sitting on a half of a table in the front room. Walking over, he pages to the appropriate threads--both from his post, and from his own messages.]

See for yourself.

[totallytrustworthy]

Oh Christ. [She pinches her brow once she's done-- once the reality of it seeps in.] Tell you what I'll do us all a favor and send out a mass transport memo to stop the teenage romantics.

[Seriously, though:] You okay...?

[deadelfwalking]

If they were young, I would find their behavior more forgivable.

[He runs a slightly-trembling hand through his hair.]

... but no. I am. I am not.

[totallytrustworthy]

Oi, easy sweetheart. [Chloe closes the distance between them without hesitation, brushing back a few stray strands that he's missed with those clawed gauntlets of his.] Know it's cliche to say it, but...it'll pass.

[deadelfwalking]

[He leans against her hand, instinctively. It's such a nice, gentle gesture, and he's so grateful for it. But he's still shaking, trembling now, all over.]

I don't ... know that it will.

[totallytrustworthy]

[He earns himself her full attention with that, and the continued scuff of her fingertips against his scalp.]

Well optimism's never been my strong suit but I'd say that for all this nonsense aside you've plenty of people in your life willing to take a bullet for you.

[deadelfwalking]

[sigh. so very nice. even so, he mutters.]

Truly? I seem to have far more willing to be the shooter.

[sorry, girl. but it's true.]

[totallytrustworthy]

And so do I, but that doesn't negate the lads and ladies willing to watch my back at the risk of their own.

[deadelfwalking]

[he pulls away.]

You and I are not the same.

[totallytrustworthy]

No, but that doesn't mean what I'd do for you means any less, yeah? [She's patient, even when he draws back.]

[deadelfwalking]

[He stares at the rough woodgrain of his table, frowning, his head pounding.]

Yes. You have done so much for me recently, after all.

[totallytrustworthy]

Okay, you know what-- [There's the edge of exhaustion in her voice when she starts, patience waning despite the fact that it's still winning out.] I know we've had our rough spots but I like to think you're not about to forget what good I have done.

[deadelfwalking]

[He shakes his head. His attention is still fixed on the table, but his voice is softer, apologetic.]

No. I have not forgotten. You are my only friend, now.