apostatised | [log] to bury my head, full of pain, in your skirts rendolent of your perfume

Several weeks ago.

For some time now, Martel's been steadfastly ignoring the knowledge wallowing in the back of his mind, and as much as he knows he can't continue ignoring it forever he'd really like to try. Relegated to the same place as 'Sparhawk used the word reconcile without spitting on it', his understanding of what he's been told lies not dormant enough for his comfort and in retrospect he sort of wishes he hadn't been able to grasp it so quickly. Another precious few moments ignorant, instead of this prissy refusal to examine the inside of his own mind-

He's not that self-pitying, he tells himself, and he's a very good liar.

"Candice?" he calls, pulling his gloves off as he comes down the hall towards wherever she's sequestered herself, having saved everyone a bit of time by merely asking where to find her when he arrived back from his bi-monthly tete-a-tete with the nearby chieftain and heading immediately in that direction. The problem with taking the time to go on horseback, alone, is that there's nothing better to do except think. He has a few thoughts, and there's really only one person he's inclined to share them with.

Candice →

"In here," she calls, from the top balcony of the library, where she is often hiding; the lower level is more likely to have people, and she is still reasonably isolated, lately, though gradually coming out of her shell. She's seated at a table with one knee tugged up, locs tied back in a ponytail, dragging a pencil over the paper she's drawn on more than written.

Martel →

"Ah," from the bottom of the stairs, which he'll now head up towards her. He takes his time about it, tucking his hands (and with them, his gloves) behind his back and going back and forth on whether or not to plan what it is he intends to say here so much that by the time he's reached her he still hasn't decided. Useful. "Would you mind being imposed on a little?"

It sometimes irritates Martel that it's possible to tell his mood by his manners - especially since the worse it is, the better they are. As a guideline.

Candice →

Something is clearly up. Something always seems to be up, lately, which generally in turn makes her retreat in on herself until it's necessary to deal with it. Candice sets her pen down and straightens her legs.

"What's going on?"

Martel →

The possibility has occurred to him that the only place where things don't find some way to be 'up' is here in the castle and usually involves hiding behind Candice (this is not how he would put it, he would probably say something much more charming about spending time with her because he loves her, and both of these things are probably true because he's excellent at multitasking), but thus far reality conspires against letting him do that without interruption. The point is. "Would you still like to see Elenia?"

Oh, we're starting with the good news.

Candice →

"I'd like to see where you're from, yes, very much. I was under the impression you found that rather impossible, though, has an alternative method come up?"

Martel →

"In a manner of speaking, yes. Sparhawk - from my own Elenia, as it turns out the first one wasn't - needs help finding the portal back. It's not outside the realm of possibility that I could persuade him to show you around, a little, in return for my assistance." It seems like key points have been entirely missed, here, but he does seem to be sincerely attempting to offer something good, so...there's that.

Candice →

There is a long silence while she processes this -- another Sparhawk, that is certainly something to consider -- and the idea of being shown around Elenia by the man who killed Martel. Martel seems to be handling that in his own way, but she has to think about whether she'd be comfortable, even knowing the circumstances.

"I certainly wouldn't want to coerce him into anything..."

Martel →

"No, of course." He pauses, not for effect so much as needing to decide what he's saying and how he's saying it and why. "We've had a few surreal conversations since he stumbled in; I have already agreed to help him find the damn thing. I offered, initially, to get him out of the nexus faster. It took him some time to decide to take me up on it."

Martel →

"And you managed to do it without hitting one another? ...excessively?" Look, she knows him.

Candice →

"There was no hitting whatsoever," he says, with a tone that's less injured than it is clearly displaying something he deserves points for. "He did threaten me a few times, though, and civility was best achieved by means of alcohol." A thoughtful pause. "On his part." A longer pause. "If he still wants to befriend me again when he's sober, then, who knows." If you squint, and if you run it through a filter of 'Martel refuses to be optimistic even when he can be', that's actually something resembling good news. Complicated, but not a bad thing.

Candice →

"So..." Candice says, after a deliberate, thoughtful pause, "this has--actually gone pretty well, then. Even though you came in here a little like it was extremely dire, caballero."

Martel →

"...you might put it that way," Martel 'agrees', grudgingly, taking a moment to resist the conclusion before conceding to it. "He told me a few other things, besides, about parts of our mutual history I wasn't privy to before, that was - distracting. And I'm not quite sure what to do with him, now, either." Sparhawk not wanting to kill him is, understandably, sort of unfamiliar and confusing. "I should really be more plain - he seemed enthusiastic about the idea of my visiting. He had some idea that I could go and have a look around while he's busy explaining to everyone that he hasn't gone mad." His expression suggests he is not as convinced of Sparhawk's relative sanity.

Candice →

"As long as it's safe," she allows, after a lingering pause during which she smiles, and beckons him closer. "My concern is--you have this reputation there, don't you? And you're fairly notable...but I hope you two talked about this, in between the drinking?"

Martel →

"I didn't do any drinking," he says mildly, coming to lean by her. "He did a bit of it first and then came to find me. I listened a bit and told him to come back and talk to me about it sober if it still sounds like a good idea after the hangover. We'll see if he does, I suppose." Martel's steadfast refusal to be optimistic about this is ... so ridiculously typical. "It might be better for you to go without me."

Candice →

That gives her further pause, although she isn't really as opposed to the idea as she might have sounded--it just strikes her as the sort of thing they want to work out thoroughly beforehand. Candice tips her head up to look at him (way, way up, given both her height and her positioning). "I can see why that'd be better, though I'm a little sorry if it had to be that way; I would've liked for us to go together."

Martel →

"There are places we could safely visit-" he sounds utterly confident, "-but few of them in Elenia. And some of the things there I'd have liked to show you myself aren't there any more." He makes a vague gesture remarkably reminiscent of the beginning of his usual fire spell, which presumably says all it needs to say about that. "But there are plenty of ways to disguise a person. It could be done."

Candice →

"Well--if it can, I'll leave it up to you, but you know what I'd like. How are you feeling? In regards to this development with Sparhawk." Since this is the second time around, but it seems significantly more dynamic a relationship this time. She's hopeful, but tentatively.

Martel →

Possibly Martel's least favourite question, regardless of specifics: 'how are you feeling'. He hates answering it and he hates admitting that he should answer it, but there are a very rare few people who can get a semblance of a polite and/or honest response and Candice, to the surprise of no one, is at the top of that incredibly short list. "Skeptical," he admits, after a beat. "If it's not one thing, it's something else - but he did see fit to enlighten me on a few relevant details I hadn't been aware of, and I'm...not sure yet if I appreciate that or not."

Candice →

"I won't demand your own details," on the note of Martel's emotional reticient ways, "but--I am glad, for what it's worth, because while I'm not sure you absolutely needed this kind of closure, I think that trying to find it could do you some good."

Martel →

"I'm not sure I'd call it closure," he says, slowly. "It turns out my former teacher-" from his tone, not Sephrenia, "-wasn't as opportunistic as I'd assumed. Suffice it to say we were very deliberately set against each other." ...which is infuriating on a multitude of levels, some of them more rational than others and some of them less admirable, but in particular the part where there's really nothing to be done with the information now except put it aside. (And be infuriated with himself, for so many reasons.) "I suppose that puts a twist on Sparhawk's offer."

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So he was used as a pawn. That, in particular, strikes her as objectionable--say what you will about Martel, but he has always been the type to make his own fortune.

"It does. But I really would like to go see your home world, if you think it's safe."

"'Safe' is the last thing I'd call it," he says, smiling at her crookedly, with all the edges in it turned inward, "but I'll talk to Sparhawk again. Sober. And we'll see if we can't manage something. ...but it may have to wait. Ah...I haven't agreed to this yet-"

"...what." She gestures at him, as though beckoning. "Out with it, caballero."

At this point Martel perches himself half on the table that Candice is sitting at, leaning above her with his hands clasped loosely against his thigh. "Koleika's taking some of his men down to Treborea for a little war and he's prevailed on me to tag along and run interference with the lowland nobility. In a purely advisory capacity."

The innocence shines so magnificently that it can be nothing but misdirection.

"And if things get especially tense, he has you on hand as a 'just in case,'" she supplies with a sigh. This will make her worry, but--she has made him worry, too, and they both live these incredibly dangerous lifestyles on occasion.

"I'm not going to yell at you, or protest, but--when I say 'be careful,' say you will, and mean it."

Yes, that would be the part Martel wasn't pointing out. "I will be careful," he promises. "Traveling promises to be the most irritating part of it."

Never say that, Martel.

"Knock on wood," she says, dryly, tipping her head up. "Let me know before you leave--so we can have a little time together, to send you off on."

"It'll be a few weeks yet." The angle and size discrepancy makes it much easier to just pull Candice up rather than lean down to kiss her, which has the pleasing side effect of resulting in the both of them on the library table.

(This is why Ewar hates interrupting either of them if he doesn't know for sure the other one is on the other side of the castle.)

"After that, maybe Elenia. The estate isn't there any more - I sold it, and I burned it when we passed through maybe two years ago - but Demos. The motherhouse...maybe not the motherhouse. Vardenais. Maybe I'll scare the devil out of a few old friends."

In disguise. What a nice man Candice is marrying.

She laughs, a little, wrapping one arm around him and adjusting her positioning on the table top with the other. It's a familiar, comfortable way of sitting, really, at this point; she likes the nuance of their routine and the ways in which the unexpected is expected.

"Good," she says, regarding 'a few weeks,' and adds, still amused, "you'd love that, wouldn't you?"

Candice kisses him again, as punctuation. "I'll have to keep an eye on you."

"I'd be thrilled," he drawls, regarding the prospect of messing with old 'friends' and Candice keeping an eye on him. Presumably it won't be hard, what with their tendency to be attached at the hip whenever they're together. "You can keep an eye on me in Chyrellos, if Sparhawk's willing to let me that close to the basilica. I think I can talk fast enough. You can look trustworthy and convincing, can't you, love?"

Candice just shakes her head, muffling another chuckle into his shirtfront.

"One of us has to, caballero."

"Well, God knows it wasn't going to be me."

[log] to bury my head, full of pain, in your skirts rendolent of your perfume

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