Lena and Zafer / tantrums
Who: Lena and Zafer
Where: Lena's room
When: January 29
Ratings and Warnings: PG-13, some swearing and mentions of murder and stable sex. Also these two are around 4
Evandros had been quite cruel to him about the whole thing, but Zafer wasn't about to completely forget about the neophyte who'd spotted him. She'd been rude too. Everyone in this city was rude, rude, rude.
That was fine. He could be rude too! Then they'd see.
His new sense of smell made it easy to locate the rude neophyte's rooms, from what he remembered of her scent. He spent a few moments sniffing the door to make sure it was hers, before a noise further down the corridor hurried his decision, sending him to open the door and slip into the room. If a neophyte merely spotting him had been bad...imagine what would happen if word got out he was in the Hour, sniffing a girl's door! Terrible! Awful!
But this looked like the right place, he decided, sniffing the air a few times just to make sure. He folded his arms and nodded decisively to nobody in particular, then sat on her bed and bounced up and down once or twice. Where was the rude neophyte? Probably out, being rude. He stood up and picked up a chair, then put it down again on the other side of the room. If she didn't come back so he could speak to her regarding her (rude) behaviour, he could at least rearrange her room. That would serve her right. With his new strength, it was easy to pick up her desk and turn it around so that it faced the wall. Ha! Score two for Zafer! Surveying his handiwork, he put his hands on his hips and nodded. Yes, yes, very good.
A noise outside had him diving guiltily for the chair and sitting down quickly, trying to look as though he'd been waiting calmly. If anyone came in and asked...he had done nothing.
Lena really couldn't recognize the person she'd become. Though outside of the four walls of her room, she held her head high and kept her manners elegant, the moment she was alone she was a shaking, vulnerable mass. It was horrible enough when she'd almost killed someone.
Actually committing murder was a phenomenon in and of itself. Not one that she enjoyed at all. Sure, she could put up the bravado for it, pretend she was actually capable of poisoning someone or shoving a dagger into their guts. But quickly was she coming to realize that she was a coward. Or perhaps survivalist? Or -
Lena would not bother herself with such thoughts, no. She pushed open her door, then quickly slammed it shut behind her. Resting against the wood, she surveyed her domain. And paused.
Either her supplements had given Cat some crazy abilities (doubtful, as she could see the abnormally-sized feline's sleeping body through the slightly ajar door of her wardrobe) or someone had been here. Unsure of what to do, she slowly slipped her hand into her pocket, fishing out a vial of clear, highly concentrated fluid - corrosive acid. There wasn't exactly an efficient way of spreading it, but she supposed she could always pour it over the intruder's head. If he or she was still here, anyway.
But in the first place, why would there be an intruder? Did someone - did someone see?
"If there is someone here, please reveal yourself."
"Hello," Zafer called from his seat in the corner, suddenly glad he'd sat down rather than get caught in the act of moving things about. "I've been waiting for you. Please, take a seat."
Almost instantly, he felt a surge of smug self-righteousness. There, see! He was polite even though she was rude! He was much better than she was. As though he owned the place, he waved an arm, indicating she could sit wherever she wished. "I've come to ask some questions."
Where was the voice com -
Oh. Feeling small and stupid, she stepped forward and shoved aside the dressing screen (a stupid indulgence, in retrospect. She was going to burn the Citadamned thing one day.). And was met with the Cancellarius. On her chair, acting as if he owned the palce. What in Cita's name -
"I don't remember sending out an invitation," she said gruffly, too tired and too annoyed to bother with social niceties. "And I'd rather stand, thanks." She supposed she could throw a temper tantrum and wail, but there was the noise would probably produce an influx of worried neophytes. And Magistra Sauda wouldn't want that. Magistra Sauda would probably want her to play nice too.
Closing her eyes, Lena made no effort to hide her weary disposition, letting a shaky hand pull her blonde hair loose. It tumbled over her shoulders as she spoke, "Ask away."
"I smelled you," he told her, a hint of pride in his voice. "You stink, so it was easy to follow."
That was for being rude.
Zafer folded his arms and crossed one leg over the other. It was a good thing she wasn't making a fuss; he didn't want Evandros to come in and be horrible again. "Have you told anyone about me?"
That was an easy question. He settled in his chair to watch her response carefully, to see how she answered. He'd soon find out if she was lying.
Lena raised an eyebrow, keeping the urge to throttle him in check. She would do very, very well by Magistra Sauda, come hell or high waters. "You must not be partial to flower fields."
She scoffed. "No," she replied flatly. "No one who didn't already know."
"You must not be either," too easy. Zafer raised his eyebrows, leaning back with a straight face.
"So, who?" Probably Evandros. Zafer's face settled into 'offended' automatically.
"Right," Lena said dryly. Couldn't she have killed him instead? Her hands began to tremble more evidently. Citadamn, she shouldn't have let her thoughts stray that way. Inhale, exhale.
"Don't pout. Magistra Sauda." If only she'd been going down a different corridor that day. Having one over the Cancellarius gave her only an empty sense of victory. Trauma had been picking away at her ambition, and Lena couldn't tell if the damage would be permanent or not. (She hated to think she could recover so easily from killing someone. She wasn't - wasn't that horrible, was she?)
"I'm not pouting!" Now he was. Zafer folded his arms tighter and glared at her. Whatever. She was rude. He was not.
His eyes alighted on her shaking hands and stayed there for a few moments. "Why are you shaking?"
"Irrelevant," she said quickly, harshly, tucking her hands behind her. "You said some questions. Keep asking."
"I just asked you another question," now this was suspicious. "So, answer it! Why are you shaking?"
"I don't see how it concerns you, Cancellarius," she bit out. She took unsteady steps towards her bed, sitting down on it and holding her head in her hands. "Let's say you're not the only troubled person in the world. Now, continue with your interrogation." She pulled her hands away, looking him in the eye. "And ask only about what you came here for."
"Hm," Zafer raised his eyes to the ceiling, then looked back down. "No, I don't think I will."
This was indeed, odd. Zafer spread his arms. "I was a priest. I can offer spiritual guidance. Will you accept?"
She crossed her arms over her chest, eyebrows drawing together tightly. "Really? And what guarantee do I have that you won't use my troubles against me?"
Hypocritical, she supposed, coming from her. But she wasn't quite willing to relinquish the upper hand. Either way, Lena had kept her part of the bargain. Tansel had nothing to complain about.
Zafer shrugged, looking around. "Who, exactly, would I use them against you with? Myself and Evandros do not exactly get on and there's nobody else I can speak to."
Not strictly true, but she didn't know that. "Besides, for all you know, I could help." This was true. Zafer was completely, endlessly, horribly bored. It would be nice to do something in between hunting down people for Diana.
"What could you possibly do to help, hidden away in an institution you don't even like?" she replied, astounded and scowling.
But, perhaps weakened enough by her experiences to suffer humoring the Cancellarius, Lena added, "It's nothing anyone can do anything about. Believe me, Cancellarius."
"Speaking unburdens the soul," Zafer shrugged again, shifting in his seat. He bit one of his nails (they had grown so long and tough and annoying) and grinned through clenched teeth. "So unburden yourself."
Did that make Magister Jones her priest? Ah, stupid thoughts. She was about to answer when he bit a nail. Cita, that was disgusting. "There's a pair of nail scissors on the desk you reversed," she said, unable to keep a sliver of maidenly outrage from her tone.
The Cancellarius must have been really idle, to be so interested. "How was it you were changed, Cancellarius?"
"I didn't do it," he answered quickly, but stood to pick up the nail scissors and drop them into a pocket. "I am not doing it here," was his answer, before she asked. That done, he began to fiddle with the other things on her desk, still acting as though he owned the place.
"Changed?" He asked, his eyebrows raised. The Citadel might now know, but he wasn't about to reveal himself to anyone just yet. "Cita appeared to me in a dream," blasphemous; even mentioning his god's name sent pain through him, but he pushed through, ignoring it. "And told me to take penance for my actions in September. That is why I am here. To guard the Hour, secretly, from any threat."
One part delusions of grandeur, one part lies. "None have come up yet, but I am waiting." Perhaps he'd kill the Magus. He counted as a threat, didn't he? Oh, yes. Definitely.
Lena couldn't help it. She laughed heartily and merrily, falling back into her bed. To guard the Hour? Definitely, even the most clandestine of protectors would threaten the life of a young woman! A young woman who was a constituent of the very organization he was trying to protect!
She eventually sobered, pulling herself up. Clapping, she said breathlessly, "A likely story! I'm sure the compulsion to eat human flesh factors in there somewhere? Or is this the part of the bedtime story where I'm supposed to guess?"
"No," he turned around and shrugged. "Surely if I wanted to eat flesh, I could just eat you now."
His mouth stretched into something close to a smile. "I could have done it when you first came in, in any of the days - or nights - previous to now. I've kept you alive, I've no reason to tell you anything else."
He raised his finger. "Now. What were you saying about the horrible things you have done?"
The threats didn't bother her, somehow. The Siren bubbled under her skin, and Lena knew She wouldn't let anything happen to Her container. Surely, the Siren could fend off whatever threat Zafer posed. After all, the Siren was what Lena feared most. Compared to that, failed Cancellari were nothing. Even if Magistra Sauda had told her Cancellarius in question was a flesh-eating Other.
"I can make my assumptions. Until you choose to enlighten me," she said. "As you're not likely to do so, I'll carry on putting you in the same category as Cristofolo Sabreme."
Lena smiled patronizingly. "I haven't done anything horrible."
Zafer's eyebrows reached his hairline. So Evandros had told her? Rude, rude, rude, rude, rude. "Neither have I, but if you're putting me in the same category of a dangerous animal, I would expect the same respect."
Unless she had no survival instinct. He bit his thumb at her. "You have found something out from your source. I will find something out about you from a different source. Then we will be even. How about that?"
"I suppose you could try." She picked up her brush from the side table and proceeded to run it through her hair. She needed something to occupy her hands with. "But you're not likely to find anything spectacular. I'm hardly so adventurous as you are, Cancellarius."
"If that were true, you would not be so unhappy. Neophyte." Rude neophyte. He leaned back against the desk, watching her carefully. "What is it? Illegitimate pregnancy? Arson? Murder? Theft? You saw a pretty pair of shoes but you cannot afford them?"
"Wow! You got everything! You see, I had a tumble in the stables," she began. "And I woke up puking. Morning sickness - so I may or may not be pregnant, but it's very likely. In my ensuing rage, I set the stables on fire. Which killed the stable hand I'd spent the night with. Before I lit the stables, though, I stole a horse, which I use to make my getaway. On the way home, there was a pair of shoes I saw through the window of one of the noble women's frequent haunts. I already knew I wouldn't be able to afford the pair, so I rode on by."
"Ah, see, now don't you feel unburdened? If you need help falling down the stairs, I can always be of assistance," Zafer fiddled with more of the items on her desk, considering whether or not to upend it completely, just to annoy. "It makes sense you'd whore yourself to stable boys though. You smell like a stable."
"And you smell like a dog," she bit back. Lena knew she spent far more than she ought on cosmetics and the like, and the end result was that she looked amazing and smelled amazing. His words really shouldn't have bothered her, but her nerves were frayed. After a beat, she added, "Stop touching my things."
"Hmm," Zafer pretended to consider that as he crossed back over to the chair and picked it up, turning it upside down and looking for somewhere to put it. "No. No, I don't think I will."
Lena let out a muffled shriek. "How old are you? Should I be calling you Initiate instead of Cancellarius?"
"Rude, neophyte. You're very rude," Zafer placed the chair atop her wardrobe, then turned to face her, putting his hands on his hips. His face was, as usual, offended. "You are so very rude to me, all the time. It is getting on my nerves. I was even nice, asking if you wanted to talk. But still, all this rudeness."
He shook his head. "I will leave you to think about your behaviour. And also to," he waved his hand vaguely as he walked toward the door, "possibly rethink your perfumes."
Lena could not wrap her head around this man. Was he - was he even sane? The first time she'd met him, he'd been an angry, insistent creature. Someone worth her fear.
This encounter begged that she reconsider. Too dumbfounded to hurl back a retort, she watched, hand and brush suspended, as he made his leave.
Where: Lena's room
When: January 29
Ratings and Warnings: PG-13, some swearing and mentions of murder and stable sex. Also these two are around 4
Evandros had been quite cruel to him about the whole thing, but Zafer wasn't about to completely forget about the neophyte who'd spotted him. She'd been rude too. Everyone in this city was rude, rude, rude.
That was fine. He could be rude too! Then they'd see.
His new sense of smell made it easy to locate the rude neophyte's rooms, from what he remembered of her scent. He spent a few moments sniffing the door to make sure it was hers, before a noise further down the corridor hurried his decision, sending him to open the door and slip into the room. If a neophyte merely spotting him had been bad...imagine what would happen if word got out he was in the Hour, sniffing a girl's door! Terrible! Awful!
But this looked like the right place, he decided, sniffing the air a few times just to make sure. He folded his arms and nodded decisively to nobody in particular, then sat on her bed and bounced up and down once or twice. Where was the rude neophyte? Probably out, being rude. He stood up and picked up a chair, then put it down again on the other side of the room. If she didn't come back so he could speak to her regarding her (rude) behaviour, he could at least rearrange her room. That would serve her right. With his new strength, it was easy to pick up her desk and turn it around so that it faced the wall. Ha! Score two for Zafer! Surveying his handiwork, he put his hands on his hips and nodded. Yes, yes, very good.
A noise outside had him diving guiltily for the chair and sitting down quickly, trying to look as though he'd been waiting calmly. If anyone came in and asked...he had done nothing.
Lena really couldn't recognize the person she'd become. Though outside of the four walls of her room, she held her head high and kept her manners elegant, the moment she was alone she was a shaking, vulnerable mass. It was horrible enough when she'd almost killed someone.
Actually committing murder was a phenomenon in and of itself. Not one that she enjoyed at all. Sure, she could put up the bravado for it, pretend she was actually capable of poisoning someone or shoving a dagger into their guts. But quickly was she coming to realize that she was a coward. Or perhaps survivalist? Or -
Lena would not bother herself with such thoughts, no. She pushed open her door, then quickly slammed it shut behind her. Resting against the wood, she surveyed her domain. And paused.
Either her supplements had given Cat some crazy abilities (doubtful, as she could see the abnormally-sized feline's sleeping body through the slightly ajar door of her wardrobe) or someone had been here. Unsure of what to do, she slowly slipped her hand into her pocket, fishing out a vial of clear, highly concentrated fluid - corrosive acid. There wasn't exactly an efficient way of spreading it, but she supposed she could always pour it over the intruder's head. If he or she was still here, anyway.
But in the first place, why would there be an intruder? Did someone - did someone see?
"If there is someone here, please reveal yourself."
"Hello," Zafer called from his seat in the corner, suddenly glad he'd sat down rather than get caught in the act of moving things about. "I've been waiting for you. Please, take a seat."
Almost instantly, he felt a surge of smug self-righteousness. There, see! He was polite even though she was rude! He was much better than she was. As though he owned the place, he waved an arm, indicating she could sit wherever she wished. "I've come to ask some questions."
Where was the voice com -
Oh. Feeling small and stupid, she stepped forward and shoved aside the dressing screen (a stupid indulgence, in retrospect. She was going to burn the Citadamned thing one day.). And was met with the Cancellarius. On her chair, acting as if he owned the palce. What in Cita's name -
"I don't remember sending out an invitation," she said gruffly, too tired and too annoyed to bother with social niceties. "And I'd rather stand, thanks." She supposed she could throw a temper tantrum and wail, but there was the noise would probably produce an influx of worried neophytes. And Magistra Sauda wouldn't want that. Magistra Sauda would probably want her to play nice too.
Closing her eyes, Lena made no effort to hide her weary disposition, letting a shaky hand pull her blonde hair loose. It tumbled over her shoulders as she spoke, "Ask away."
"I smelled you," he told her, a hint of pride in his voice. "You stink, so it was easy to follow."
That was for being rude.
Zafer folded his arms and crossed one leg over the other. It was a good thing she wasn't making a fuss; he didn't want Evandros to come in and be horrible again. "Have you told anyone about me?"
That was an easy question. He settled in his chair to watch her response carefully, to see how she answered. He'd soon find out if she was lying.
Lena raised an eyebrow, keeping the urge to throttle him in check. She would do very, very well by Magistra Sauda, come hell or high waters. "You must not be partial to flower fields."
She scoffed. "No," she replied flatly. "No one who didn't already know."
"You must not be either," too easy. Zafer raised his eyebrows, leaning back with a straight face.
"So, who?" Probably Evandros. Zafer's face settled into 'offended' automatically.
"Right," Lena said dryly. Couldn't she have killed him instead? Her hands began to tremble more evidently. Citadamn, she shouldn't have let her thoughts stray that way. Inhale, exhale.
"Don't pout. Magistra Sauda." If only she'd been going down a different corridor that day. Having one over the Cancellarius gave her only an empty sense of victory. Trauma had been picking away at her ambition, and Lena couldn't tell if the damage would be permanent or not. (She hated to think she could recover so easily from killing someone. She wasn't - wasn't that horrible, was she?)
"I'm not pouting!" Now he was. Zafer folded his arms tighter and glared at her. Whatever. She was rude. He was not.
His eyes alighted on her shaking hands and stayed there for a few moments. "Why are you shaking?"
"Irrelevant," she said quickly, harshly, tucking her hands behind her. "You said some questions. Keep asking."
"I just asked you another question," now this was suspicious. "So, answer it! Why are you shaking?"
"I don't see how it concerns you, Cancellarius," she bit out. She took unsteady steps towards her bed, sitting down on it and holding her head in her hands. "Let's say you're not the only troubled person in the world. Now, continue with your interrogation." She pulled her hands away, looking him in the eye. "And ask only about what you came here for."
"Hm," Zafer raised his eyes to the ceiling, then looked back down. "No, I don't think I will."
This was indeed, odd. Zafer spread his arms. "I was a priest. I can offer spiritual guidance. Will you accept?"
She crossed her arms over her chest, eyebrows drawing together tightly. "Really? And what guarantee do I have that you won't use my troubles against me?"
Hypocritical, she supposed, coming from her. But she wasn't quite willing to relinquish the upper hand. Either way, Lena had kept her part of the bargain. Tansel had nothing to complain about.
Zafer shrugged, looking around. "Who, exactly, would I use them against you with? Myself and Evandros do not exactly get on and there's nobody else I can speak to."
Not strictly true, but she didn't know that. "Besides, for all you know, I could help." This was true. Zafer was completely, endlessly, horribly bored. It would be nice to do something in between hunting down people for Diana.
"What could you possibly do to help, hidden away in an institution you don't even like?" she replied, astounded and scowling.
But, perhaps weakened enough by her experiences to suffer humoring the Cancellarius, Lena added, "It's nothing anyone can do anything about. Believe me, Cancellarius."
"Speaking unburdens the soul," Zafer shrugged again, shifting in his seat. He bit one of his nails (they had grown so long and tough and annoying) and grinned through clenched teeth. "So unburden yourself."
Did that make Magister Jones her priest? Ah, stupid thoughts. She was about to answer when he bit a nail. Cita, that was disgusting. "There's a pair of nail scissors on the desk you reversed," she said, unable to keep a sliver of maidenly outrage from her tone.
The Cancellarius must have been really idle, to be so interested. "How was it you were changed, Cancellarius?"
"I didn't do it," he answered quickly, but stood to pick up the nail scissors and drop them into a pocket. "I am not doing it here," was his answer, before she asked. That done, he began to fiddle with the other things on her desk, still acting as though he owned the place.
"Changed?" He asked, his eyebrows raised. The Citadel might now know, but he wasn't about to reveal himself to anyone just yet. "Cita appeared to me in a dream," blasphemous; even mentioning his god's name sent pain through him, but he pushed through, ignoring it. "And told me to take penance for my actions in September. That is why I am here. To guard the Hour, secretly, from any threat."
One part delusions of grandeur, one part lies. "None have come up yet, but I am waiting." Perhaps he'd kill the Magus. He counted as a threat, didn't he? Oh, yes. Definitely.
Lena couldn't help it. She laughed heartily and merrily, falling back into her bed. To guard the Hour? Definitely, even the most clandestine of protectors would threaten the life of a young woman! A young woman who was a constituent of the very organization he was trying to protect!
She eventually sobered, pulling herself up. Clapping, she said breathlessly, "A likely story! I'm sure the compulsion to eat human flesh factors in there somewhere? Or is this the part of the bedtime story where I'm supposed to guess?"
"No," he turned around and shrugged. "Surely if I wanted to eat flesh, I could just eat you now."
His mouth stretched into something close to a smile. "I could have done it when you first came in, in any of the days - or nights - previous to now. I've kept you alive, I've no reason to tell you anything else."
He raised his finger. "Now. What were you saying about the horrible things you have done?"
The threats didn't bother her, somehow. The Siren bubbled under her skin, and Lena knew She wouldn't let anything happen to Her container. Surely, the Siren could fend off whatever threat Zafer posed. After all, the Siren was what Lena feared most. Compared to that, failed Cancellari were nothing. Even if Magistra Sauda had told her Cancellarius in question was a flesh-eating Other.
"I can make my assumptions. Until you choose to enlighten me," she said. "As you're not likely to do so, I'll carry on putting you in the same category as Cristofolo Sabreme."
Lena smiled patronizingly. "I haven't done anything horrible."
Zafer's eyebrows reached his hairline. So Evandros had told her? Rude, rude, rude, rude, rude. "Neither have I, but if you're putting me in the same category of a dangerous animal, I would expect the same respect."
Unless she had no survival instinct. He bit his thumb at her. "You have found something out from your source. I will find something out about you from a different source. Then we will be even. How about that?"
"I suppose you could try." She picked up her brush from the side table and proceeded to run it through her hair. She needed something to occupy her hands with. "But you're not likely to find anything spectacular. I'm hardly so adventurous as you are, Cancellarius."
"If that were true, you would not be so unhappy. Neophyte." Rude neophyte. He leaned back against the desk, watching her carefully. "What is it? Illegitimate pregnancy? Arson? Murder? Theft? You saw a pretty pair of shoes but you cannot afford them?"
"Wow! You got everything! You see, I had a tumble in the stables," she began. "And I woke up puking. Morning sickness - so I may or may not be pregnant, but it's very likely. In my ensuing rage, I set the stables on fire. Which killed the stable hand I'd spent the night with. Before I lit the stables, though, I stole a horse, which I use to make my getaway. On the way home, there was a pair of shoes I saw through the window of one of the noble women's frequent haunts. I already knew I wouldn't be able to afford the pair, so I rode on by."
"Ah, see, now don't you feel unburdened? If you need help falling down the stairs, I can always be of assistance," Zafer fiddled with more of the items on her desk, considering whether or not to upend it completely, just to annoy. "It makes sense you'd whore yourself to stable boys though. You smell like a stable."
"And you smell like a dog," she bit back. Lena knew she spent far more than she ought on cosmetics and the like, and the end result was that she looked amazing and smelled amazing. His words really shouldn't have bothered her, but her nerves were frayed. After a beat, she added, "Stop touching my things."
"Hmm," Zafer pretended to consider that as he crossed back over to the chair and picked it up, turning it upside down and looking for somewhere to put it. "No. No, I don't think I will."
Lena let out a muffled shriek. "How old are you? Should I be calling you Initiate instead of Cancellarius?"
"Rude, neophyte. You're very rude," Zafer placed the chair atop her wardrobe, then turned to face her, putting his hands on his hips. His face was, as usual, offended. "You are so very rude to me, all the time. It is getting on my nerves. I was even nice, asking if you wanted to talk. But still, all this rudeness."
He shook his head. "I will leave you to think about your behaviour. And also to," he waved his hand vaguely as he walked toward the door, "possibly rethink your perfumes."
Lena could not wrap her head around this man. Was he - was he even sane? The first time she'd met him, he'd been an angry, insistent creature. Someone worth her fear.
This encounter begged that she reconsider. Too dumbfounded to hurl back a retort, she watched, hand and brush suspended, as he made his leave.