[log] i wish i had the blind faith of an atheist

[apostatised]

Not once, but twice; there is something disconcerting about reliving that particular moment all over again, not quite able to disconnect himself from these men who might very well come from different worlds entirely. They look at him the same way - with rightful suspicion and outright shock, like they've seen a ghost put to rest and he's tearing open old wounds, like he always would - and it feels the same, like a lifetime ago wasn't long enough.

(It wasn't; it was little more than a year.)

The situation, Martel has decided, calls for a drink and a friendship one has to be this twisted in the first place just to fall into. He tells Candice, first, being not entirely a fool, and sends warning ahead to the castle to see if he's welcome enough to drop by.

Comments

[aterastrum.livejournal.com]

Severus laughs - sort of. It's more like a quiet snort, but it's certainly not a disagreement. Martel is more social than he is; he can stand the company of others, in general, while Severus disdains any interaction that he has not carefully calculated. (And he calculates it rarely.)

"I am uniquely unsuited to other people," he remarks, and there's a casual sort of thread to his tone that is only there by the benefit of having spent time locked in an asylum for his own good. "I do not begrudge their existence until it begins to infringe on mine." And then, you know, he starts sending people home cut up into pieces and gift-wrapped.

"Though there have been more about, of late."

[errantknights.livejournal.com]

Perhaps Martel just enjoys having an audience; his theatricality can't be entirely for his own benefit. (He could live without one, mind you, but when that audience exists he invariably begins playing to it.)

And on the subject of people around Severus lately-

"Miss Owens," he observes, not exactly asking - what exactly would he ask about that?

[aterastrum.livejournal.com]

What would anybody ask about that? ... And live through asking? There's not a lot of options.

Severus quirks his eyebrows and lets out a breath, not uncomfortable but without context on how to handle the subject. "She appears to have taken up residence, despite the wards."

Really now, Professor.

[errantknights.livejournal.com]

"I suppose it'd be poor manners to change the locks on her now," Martel drawls, after a fascinating ('vaguely smug') pause. "She must be a determined woman."

Really. Really determined.

[aterastrum.livejournal.com]

"I suppose," he agrees, and gives Martel a dry look. "Extremely." He's not actually going to say that she must be out of her goddamned mind, but they both know that any woman 'determined' enough to try this hard with Severus Snape has got to be ... well, out of her goddamned mind.

Maybe that's why he likes her.

"The post owls like her the best, I think."

[errantknights.livejournal.com]

The thought had occurred to him, yes, judging by the hint of sharp edged amusement in his answering glance. (The difference between people Martel doesn't like and people he does are that when he likes you, he's laughing with you.)

"Well, I'm sure she's prettier than you are. Perhaps that's why."

[aterastrum.livejournal.com]

"Enormously," Severus says, and it's less a complement to her (because he can't have that) than something self-depreciating, though he sounds darkly amused. "Which is inexplicable in itself. Perhaps I'll save us both the prolonged torture of the subject and just imagine you've told me to shut up and accept it, based on context." You know, her being enormously pretty and refusing to leave.

[errantknights.livejournal.com]

Martel toasts him wordlessly.

[aterastrum.livejournal.com]

Severus nods in wry acquiescence, and then he pushes away from the railing and heads back inside, carrying on with their little tour. It's not a bad night, really. Compared to what it could be.