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Post by Zaspar on Oct 23, 2024 23:15:05 GMT
A story in four parts.
Act I: Ring
Follows on from thekantasexpanse.boards.net/thread/4617/hekrati-25-9-kem
Ready for another lie?
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Never was there ever a girl so pretty
Do you think we'll be in love forever?
Thanks to willemf .
Zaspar strolls to Robin's house with a satisfied smile on his face. It’s been a few days since Robin “stayed over for breakfast” - a clumsy euphemism, but a first for them, and indeed the first ever for him. The experience left him exhilarated and anxious, and she hasn’t been far from his mind since. He walks with newfound confidence, greeting people on the street, and for once, he feels like the coolest kid in Kantas.
Yet beneath the surface, a wave of anxiety threatens to consume him, especially after his recent conversation with Dee and Kem. His friends (friends! They were two of the first people outside his sister that he could truly consider friends) had given him some interesting advice about… well, “staying over for breakfast,” and that, too, had occupied much of his thoughts. More pressing, though less exciting, were their comments about Robin’s true nature. If she was really part of some evil vampire cult, they said this date would likely reveal the truth. Hopefully, she’d be the one to end things, giving him a clean break.
Even so, Zaspar couldn’t shake the excitement about seeing her. He arrives at her front door, a bouquet of red roses in hand, and after a moment’s hesitation, knocks, stepping aside to wait.
Inside, there’s an exasperated voice. Though dulled by her tone, it’s unmistakably Robin’s voice.
"Alright, alright, I’m coming. What is it this time? I already told you I-" She opens the door, and immediately her expression switches from annoyance to sunny happiness. Throwing her arms around Zaspar, she places a kiss on his forehead before letting go and straightening her shirt.
"Darling! I wasn’t expecting you. No fancy letter to make my heart skip! You surprised me, you devious, handsome trickster. How could you stoop so low to take advantage of an innocent young woman like that?" She grins.
"You want to come inside? Or do you have… plans?" A familiar warmth spreads in Zaspar’s chest as she kisses his forehead. He chuckles at her jesting, handing her the bouquet and placing his own kiss on her cheek in greeting.
"Do forgive me, my lady. Let’s go inside so you can put these flowers in some water. Perhaps that will help them live up to a fraction of your peerless beauty. I have another gift for you, and then I’d like to take you on a date."
He pauses for a second, though.
"Before we go… Robin, you sounded a little annoyed when someone was knocking on your door. Has someone been irritating you? Do you need me to deal with it?" He straightens his posture, ‘subtly’ flexing his pecs and triceps to show her he can take care of her.
"A date! You spoil me, Zaspar." She turns and leads him inside as she continues, "And no, no trouble. Just some business associates needing me for various matters and deciding that house calls are more effective than asking over drinks. The cheek, I know. You're the only person that gets that privilege around here, darling."
She brings him into a modest but well-furnished kitchen, rummaging through cabinets and pulling out a simple vase. She dips it in a pail of water, sets it on the table, and gestures for him to place the roses inside.
"It’s so good to see you again. It hasn’t been that long, but... it has felt like so much longer, darling."
Suddenly, Zaspar notices what’s been bugging him. When she opened the door: no ring. But when she took her arms away after the hug: ring. She only slipped it on when she saw him.
Zaspar feels a slight twinge of pain in his heart. He knows she’s using him for his money. But still… to see her so callously slide the ring on, only when he approached, was genuinely hurtful. He isn’t sure whether to bring it up. Would revealing that it upset him give her power over him? Was there a simple explanation for all this - maybe she was cleaning and didn’t want to lose it?
He sighs, thoughts racing, and plants the roses in the vase.
"Robin… you know, I spend time with a lot of people who are really good at card games." He begins, not meeting her eyes, thinking of his friend Erron. "And I’ve learned to pick up on some tells. I’m still not great at it, so maybe I’m wrong. But you weren’t wearing your ring when you opened the door, Robin. I know you put it on when you gave me that huge hug." He looks at her now, chewing his lip, emotions threatening to take over. He settles for a simple question. "Why?"
She freezes for just a second and then turns with a soft smile. "I was just tidying some things, didn’t want to scratch your beautiful gift on an unimportant plate or fork." She’s lying. He knows it, she knows it, and he almost gets the feeling she knows he's seen through it. But she doesn’t drop her face an inch, not yet.
Zaspar nods slowly, still chewing his lip, and pulls out a chair at her kitchen table, sitting down. "Do you think me a fool, Robin?" He asks, gravel in his voice. "Answer me truthfully."
Her face finally drops, still calm and beautiful but without much mirth. "Sometimes? Yes, Zaspar. But you’re still handsome and charming and certainly intelligent in many other ways." She gently rests a hand on his shoulder, the other stroking his cheek. "My beloved, my fiancé, please. You wanted a date, and a date will make us both so much happier than this dreary conversation in this boring kitchen ever would. Take your fiancé on a date. Be in love, be happy. For me, Zaspar. For your darling."
He looks up at her and removes the hand from his cheek.
"No." He pulls out another chair and gestures for her to sit down. "If we are to be wed, if you are to be heiress to House Arthiar, there will be many ‘dreary conversations’ about business, life, and family. If we can’t even navigate that when we are unmarried… what is the point of any of this?" Tears gently rim his eyes, and he looks away, blinking. "Please, just tell me what’s going on, Robin. I need to know."
She sits and tries to smile. "What’s going on, darling, is that you have a fiancé who loves you, who gives you what you’ve been missing, who wants to give you all that you could want from a relationship like we have - not by force, but by choice. It doesn’t harm me to love you like this, Zaspar, and I don’t think it harms you. Perhaps I’ve been... avoidant of certain details, but really, would knowing those details make you feel better or worse? Do you really want to be unhappy, Zaspar? Or do you want to enjoy what you already have? Please, darling, I’m sorry it’s come to this. I really do think we should have that date. I expect the same charming Zaspar as ever, and it’s something I look forward to seeing every time."
Zaspar buries his head in his hands, actively trying not to sob.
"Robin. You’re just talking in circles. I haven’t said we aren’t going on a date." He lifts his head and looks over at her, eyes red. "You have me crying in your damn kitchen, and you won’t even tell me why you weren’t wearing your ring. That Hekrati woman we met - the Priestess - told me she was lying to me to make me feel better. I know that’s what you’re doing, Robin, and I need you to just tell me why you weren’t wearing your damn ring, the one I spent so much time making sure would suit you, that I consulted so many goldsmiths for…" He trails off and takes a deep breath to steady himself. He thinks back on Dee’arna’s advice.
"Do you just want my money? Fine. It will take me a few decades to inherit it. Are you going to stay by my side that whole time, lying to make me feel better, or can you just tell me what’s going on? What do you need the money for? What do you need me for? Because... because none of this feels like you love me, Robin." He looks her dead in the eyes, anger visible in his furrowed brow.
She sighs and leans back, turning the ring on her finger.
"Zaspar, I love you, I do, genuinely. And I am your fiancé, your devoted lover, and your greatest admirer. I’m willing to move mountains for you and never withhold information from you. That is a promise. The woman who answered the door is none of those. Is that a good enough answer? Please, I know how painful this must be, but it hurts me too, Zaspar. This is breaking walls I swore not to break."
He moves his seat closer to hers at this, taking her hand in his, gently rubbing it with his thumb. It’s difficult to hear her talking about herself like this.
“I get it. There are things about me you don’t know either. But can you see why it’s unsettling to hear that the love of your life might answer the door as a completely different person than who she’ll be just minutes later?” He lifts her hand and kisses it gently.
“Whatever you're going through... I want to help, Robin. That’s all. I-" He pauses, clears his throat, then gathers his courage. “I’m falling in love with you, Robin, with all of you. I want to be there for you, but I can’t if you keep shutting me out.”
Robin places her other hand over his, offering a small, tender smile. She leans in and pecks him on the cheek.
"Darling, there's nothing wrong when you're around. Truly. You’re already doing everything by just being here, sharing your amazing life with me. What matters to me is what matters to you, and if that's knowing I’m safe and comfortable, then let me assure you-I am. This, right here, us together, is all I’ve ever wanted. It's perfect.”
He rests his forehead against hers, falling silent for a moment, their hands entwined on his lap. Their rings catch the light, glimmering in her kitchen, a quiet testament to their bond. He takes a slow breath before speaking again.
“Okay,” he whispers, his forehead pulling back so he can meet her gaze. “Okay, Robin. I will always be here for you.” He hesitates, thinking about suggesting she move in with him, but decides it might be too soon. Something to bring up later. “I’m glad we had this talk, as difficult as it was. Now, how about I give you that gift and take my perfect fiancée on a wonderful date?”
Robin chuckles softly, pulling her hands back. "My day just got a hundred times better! You spoil me, but how could I say no to a gift?" She glances at her outfit. "Oh, heavens, look at me! I wasn’t expecting this... Let me go put something nicer on for you."
“Nonsense, you look stunning,” he assures her with a smile, gesturing for her to turn around in her seat. Reaching into the handbag he’s been carrying for her during their adventures, he pulls out a jewellery set from the Dawn Market. “But if you must get changed, let me adorn you with this necklace first, my love. Then you can match your outfit to it,” he murmurs, standing behind her and gently unbuttoning the top of her blouse. He places the cool metal necklace on her skin. “There are earrings too, but the ones you have on already enhance your beauty.”
He clasps the necklace around her neck, adjusting it carefully, then slides his hands down to her waist and plants a soft kiss on her neck.
“A friend helped me pick the design. I told them all about you, and they said you might appreciate some guidance from The Great Guide.”
As he pulls away, she looks down at the necklace. Inlaid in the center is the symbol of Kelemvor-a skeletal hand holding scales of justice, each scale adorned with gleaming diamonds.
She blinks in surprise, then chuckles, tracing the symbol with her fingers. "It's beautiful, Zaspar. While I’ve never been particularly religious, I’ve always respected Kelemvor. Thank you, darling-it’s lovely." She smiles and adds, “But now, I insist on getting changed. I would not dare sully the Arthiar name with anything less than a well put together outfit.” She kisses him briefly and heads upstairs to change.
Their date starts perfectly. They sit outside a café, enjoying brunch as Robin listens to Zaspar’s stories of his adventures. They stroll through the market, where he buys her a scarf for the cooler weather and dramatically wraps it around her shoulders. At the lake, they rent a rowboat. Zaspar rows while Robin lounges in the golden sunlight. When they stop at a carnival, Zaspar enters a game and loses miserably. Robin laughs, wins the game with ease, and hands him the stuffed toy, a playful smirk on her lips.
Hours later, they continue to walk around hand in hand, a stuffed bear tucked under Zaspar's arm and a warm scarf around Robin's neck. Eventually, they are near the Order of the Crimson Fist. Zaspar remembers the advice his friends gave him, and looks over nervously. He spots Roscoe, his... acquaintance. "Hey Roscoe!" He calls, tugging Robin's hand in their direction.
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Post by Zaspar on Oct 23, 2024 23:18:16 GMT
Act II: Paladins
I see myself and I look scared and confused
Wait, did they just talk?
Why is it too loud?
Do they wish to run to me?
Am I a smoke? Am I the sun? Who decides?
Thanks to Egg Roscoe ⚔️ willemf Ser Baine Cinderwood 🔥🌼
"Hey Roscoe!" He calls, tugging Robin's hand in their direction.
There's a part of Silverstreet where the cobbles form slightly more uniform lines under the feet of the Darites walking it. There's a sense of vigilance in the air and sounds of steel on steel and shouted orders on the wind, emanating from a large compound built of red clay bricks. The single entrance is a square passageway without a door. Much like Fort Ettin, this place doesn't need a gate, because the real threat lies inside the walls.
Taking their turn as sentry by the passageway (there's realistic assessment of your capabilities as an order and then there is straight up idiocy - there's always at least one sentry on duty) is a rust orange tiefling with yellow eyes and dark red hair. Two longswords are crossed over their back and a badge has been meticulously sewn into the fabric over the left breast of their cloak; a gauntleted fist with blood welling and dripping from between its knuckles.
They spot Zaspar and roll their eyes helplessly.
"Fuck me. It's the muffin man."
Zaspar turns to Robin to explain. "You know I do backflips for the muffin people sometimes? Roscoe really liked them. Shall we go say hello?"
"You carrying around anymore baked goods, man? Those were pretty choice." Robin relaxes a little, realising this is less an insult to her beloved and more friendly acknowledgement and nods.
"No, not today. I am out with my fiancée, not working." He turns to Robin and smiles. "This is Robin, my betrothed. Robin, this is Roscoe. They ate a lot of muffins one time." Roscoe blinks a little, eyes narrowing for a moment. Robin bows her head a little and makes a very slight curtesy. Nothing formal but still a rather polite set of mannerisms.
"Ah. Yeah. The betrothed. Charmed, I'm sure."
They acknowledge the curtesy with a half-arsed two finger salute.
Zaspar furrows his brows. "Should you not be showing a little more respect to your esteemed guests?"
A multitude of feelings and grimaces spills from Roscoe's face onto the ground until it settles for a single one; deeply insincere jovial hospitality.
"Of course, yeah, yer right. Where are my manners? Do come in. Lemme show you around the place."
They turn and gesture to the busy courtyard of packed dirt behind them.
"Welcome to the Order of the Crimson Fist."
Zaspar and Robin take a moment to look at the uniform rows of soldiers in training doing drills, of people opening and closing doors, of shouts of command.
Roscoe turns to Robin.
"I mentioned this place to your betrothed 'cause of his prowess at fightin' and stuff. An' I thought, here among these knights might be a place for 'im. Would the two of you like to meet the Master at Arms? He's the one who recruited me."
She chuckles.
“Oh I’m not a fighter by any means and my darling here is a competitive duellist so I’m not sure what soldiering could do for either of us but.. darling?”
She looks curiously at Zaspar, seemingly trying to read what Zaspar’s goal here is.
"Perhaps he'd like to lend his talents to us recruits then? A short lesson?"
Zaspar grins at this stroke of his ego. "Sure. Take me to your Master so we can discuss recompense." He looks back at Robin. "It is always handy to have connections, I suppose. Lead the way, Roscoe."
Roscoe grins with surprising satisfaction.
"Sure, yeah, half a mo."
They turn their head, cup a hand around their mouth, shouting at the top of their lungs.
"SER BAINE NEEDED AT THE GATE."
This turns a fair amount of heads, and only the ones still doing drills keep their focus. Doors are nudged ever so slightly more open, eyes peek through windows. An enormous minotaur overseeing the drills huffs at the soldier to continue, but also seconds the call, his lungs like bellows as he shouts for the Master at Arms.
A door on the far side of the courtyard opens and a figure steps out, parting the packed courtyard like a prophetic with a stick in a large body of water as he walks towards them.
A half-orc, well over 6 feet tall and built like a brick shithouse, with scars marring the left side of his face and a flower crown on his head, moving like a seasoned fighter, joins them. He's eating a cheese sandwich.
"Squeak," he says to Roscoe. "What's all this then?"
Roscoe rips off a surprisingly smart salute (even the half-orc looks surprised) and says, "Ser, this an adventurer I've worked with. He's come to offer his expertise in the form of a lesson in fightin'. For the recruits, Ser."
Ser Baine looks over at Zaspar, his grey eyes giving him a cursory once-over as he chews his bread. "Is that right?"
Zaspar looks at the half-orc, who is not much taller than himself, and offers his hand for a handshake.
"Err, not quite. I was just walking past with my fiancé and we saw Roscoe here, who I'd met before, and Roscoe... um... volunteered me to train your troops?" He looks at Roscoe and shakes his head, then looks back to Ser Baine, hand still outstretched. "Well, regardless, it is an honour to meet you, Ser,"
The hand that shakes Zaspar's is calloused and worn, and huge. It doesn't quite let go as soon as is proper.
"Well," he says, glancing at Roscoe briefly before looking back at Zaspar, "are they right? Do you think you have somethin' to teach our soldiers?"
Zaspar gets the distinct feeling that somehow he's being sized up as prey, but he's not sure from where, or by whom.
Zaspar taps their conjoined hands with his free hand in an effort to remind Ser Baine to end the handshake. “I mean, I am quite multitalented. I wouldn’t presume it is anything your soldiers don’t know, though, training under one as handsome and strong as you, Ser,”
A sudden grin appears on his face (still not letting go of the hand) and he turns to shout sort of, upwards, towards the roof of the stables. "D'you hear that, Ser Lytton? Handsome and strong!" From somewhere on the roof is a bark that seems... much larger than it should be, and a distinctive scoff.
"Can't be. I'm only with you for the room and board."
Ser Baine rolls his eyes.
"Joker, that one."
He squeezes the hand just a little tighter, his eyes curious.
And then they flick over to Robin.
"Sorry, I don't believe we were introduced. I'm Ser Baine Cinderwood, Master at Arms of the Order of the Crimson Fist, and champion of Lathander."
The sunflower pendant on his chest glints for a moment.
He doesn't let go of Zaspar's hand, stares at Robin, and lets the awkward silence ring out.
Zaspar puts his free arm around Robin's shoulder, feeling a weird tension around him. “Ser Baine, I do believe our handshake is quite finished, unless there is another reason you are still holding my hand?” Zaspar winks at the half orc, and then tilts his head towards Robin. “This is my beloved fiancée. I will let her introduce herself.”
Robin curtseys and bows her head a bit deeper than with Roscoe.
“Robin Merryfair, humble merchant and recent fiancé of the heir to the Arthiar estate. The second is far more important than the first I assure you.”
She smiles at Baine.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you ser, I have only ever passed by this place on my way about town, I’m glad I can finally see within and meet your fine selves.”
Baine smiles back, and for a moment there's another glint of light from his sunflower pendant. Then he turns back to Zaspar.
"Pleasure to meet you both." He looks briefly around. While he’s been talking to the stranger, a round-faced purple aarakocra sporting a prominent Crimson Fist emblem and a wicked-looking longbow has hopped up next to Roscoe and started a whispered conversation with them, while glancing curiously at Zaspar and Robin. The aarakocra straightens and salutes when the Master at Arms sees him.
"Egg,” says Baine. “Go tell Whistler I need 'im on the roof, will you?" Then he tugs Zaspar closer by the hand he's still holding and leans in, grin still on his face but a small growl in his voice. "Is there a reason you're comin' 'round here with a fiend followin' you around?"
Zaspar understands now - the holding his hand, tugging him closer, the grinning - that Ser Baine must be attracted to him. It was not unusual, after all, but it was rather uncouth in front of his fiancée.
He chuckles nervously and, again, taps their conjoined hands in an effort to signal he would like to be freed. “I have no idea what you are talking about, Ser.” He smiles his most charming smile. “The only fiend here is you - a fiendishly handsome gentleman flirting with me in front of my fiancée? How scandalous.”
Baine squeezes Zaspar's hand a final time - possibly something pops in a joint somewhere - and lets go. "I'm married. And you're a bit of a twat. My soldiers won't be needin' your services today after all. Captain Zunus has 'em well in hand. Don't ya, captain?"
"Yes, Ser, well in hand, Ser," the minotaur booms.
And for a brief moment, all activity in the courtyard ceases. Every single soldier stops and regards Zaspar and Robin, almost as if they're making sure to memorise their faces. It's like a held breath, still and tense, until Ser Baine murmurs, "As you were," turns on his heel, and leaves.
“Wait, hold on,” Zaspar calls after Ser Baine, and walks briskly to follow. “I am sorry to hear you are married. But you cannot just accuse me of having a fiend with me without explaining what you mean? I have a reputation to uphold,”
Robin tries to catch Zaspar's hand and quickly jogs after him to whisper in his ear.
"Listen, these people clearly distrust you and I have no idea why. Let's not stand here and give them more reasons to make us look like fools and to disparage our names. Let's. Leave. Zaspar"
The two make it exactly 6 brisk steps before the activity in the courtyard stops again, this time with hands going for hilts. "You've been asked to leave," Ser Baine calls over his shoulder, "But you know where to find us if you need aid."
Zaspar rolls his eyes at the coordinated display. “Yes, you have swords, very impressive.” He turns to Ser Baine again. “Tell me what you meant, Ser, and then we shall leave. I mean no disrespect but it is unjust to spread such rumours about the Heir of House Arthiar.”
He is no longer walking, standing still and grasping Robin's hand instead, gently rubbing his thumb over it. Whether it is to calm himself or her, it is unclear, but it does not seem to work for either of them.
Baine stops in his tracks, head tipped back. He sighs. "Egg?" he calls. "All set?"
“Yes sir, ready at your order sir!” calls the piping voice from the rooftop.
Baine turns around and walks back over to the couple.
"It's really very simple," he says, all traces of humour gone. "One or both of you have a fiend problem. My money's on the one askin' the other one to dismiss the accusations and forget about it, but what the fuck do I know, I've only punched Zariel in the face and lived to tell the tale. Perhaps you can take the rest of the evening to discuss it. Now get the fuck out of my compound before I call the Boss. Boss doesn't like it when there's fiends in the compound."
The utter silence around them is broken only by a growling from the roof, rolling over them like thunder.
“Hm.” Zaspar stands still, assessing the situation. It was not worth putting Robin in danger over this. “Thank you, kind Ser Baine, for the information. It was wonderful to meet you.”
He sighs. “I apologise as it seems I have upset you somehow. Might I please point out that this was all Roscoe's idea? I have no real interest in training your troops, nor do I have a fiend behind me. I suspect you do not have any interest in me training them, either, nor could your… organisation… afford my services.” He turns to leave, taking Robin by the hand with him.
Yellow, slitted eyes follow them as they go. When they've turned the corner on Silverstreet, Roscoe sighs heavily.
"If I have to save that twat's life, I'm gonna be so fuckin' angry."
----
"We're gonna follow them," Whistler says quietly to Egg, perched like a gargoyle on the tiled roof. "They're gonna notice you first. That's fine. Just see how long you can stay out of sight, like an exercise. Pretend you don't know you've been spotted. Eventually they'll go separate ways, and then you stay on him. I'll follow her. Got it, Squeak?"
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Post by Zaspar on Oct 23, 2024 23:22:33 GMT
Act III: Love
This dream isn't feeling sweet, we're reeling through the midnight streets
And I've never felt more alone
Thanks to willemf
Zaspar turns to Robin after they’ve left the compound. “I am sorry about that. It was not very paladin-like of them to accuse us of such outrageous things unprovoked.” He shakes his head. “Unless you do have a fiend hidden away somewhere, hmm?” He jokes, smiling broadly at her.
She immediately starts at that, quickly getting her composure back but he notices it.
"What? No! Of course I don't"
She is clearly lying.
Zaspar’s face falls. This again. “Robin, do you.. actually have a fiend with you?”
She sighs and looks tired. "Fine, yes, although it's not mine. It's a friend, and it means no harm to anyone, it's just a set of eyes."
“What? Oh, is it like that thing the Hekrati gave Lylaradin? The bzzt-grrk-pow? Wait. But if it’s not yours, why is it following us?” He quickly appends.
She flinches a little at the pronunciation then softens a bit.
"Yeah, exactly, a friend. And it's following us to make sure nothing happens to me or you without someone knowing and being able to come and help.
Zaspar smiles at her resourcefulness. He leans over to kiss her cheek. “You are so kind, Robin. It does seem like a lot of people take issue with you and I being together.” He doesn’t stop to think if there may be any reason behind that. “Who gave you the fiend? Was it the Hekrati? And can I see it? Lylaradin’s one was oddly cute.”
"Again, wasn't given to me. It acts under someone else, it's just friendly to me. And I mean I can ask them if they're ok with being seen but let's wait until we're a bit more alone first."
“Oh, so you’re pet-sitting!” Zaspar exclaims, happy with his reasonable explanation, and nods. The sun was beginning to set around them and a chill was entering the air.
“So, do you want to sleep together?” Zaspar asks - and immediately regrets. He blushes wildly and begins to stutter. “I - I mean, to be clear that was phenomenal but - I meant just being together. Oh, not like that either. I want to bed you.” His eyes widened and he cursed in Elvish.
“I am so sorry Robin. Let me try again. It’s getting late and I want to hold you tonight as I missed you and we’ve had a challenging day.” He clears his throat awkwardly and looks to the sky, away from her, a clear blush forming all the way down his neck. “Sorry. That was awful.” He looks at her and chuckles. “You must be the only woman in the world able to render a bard lost for words. Would you like to come over? Or we can go to yours?”
She blushes in kind and then bursts out laughing, quickly catching herself as she remembers she’s in public. "Zaspar you're amazing. This is one of many reasons I love you but... not tonight. As you said I'm pet sitting and frankly I had something planned for the evening and I wasn't expecting to be whisked away on a beautiful date. But tomorrow I can be all yours if you wish?"
Zaspar nods vigorously. “Of course. I apologise for showing up unannounced. I shan’t keep you any longer - may I walk you home?”
—
In front of her door, Zaspar embraces Robin tightly. “Thank you so much for everything, my love,” he murmurs, tightening the embrace.
Eventually, he lets her go, but takes both of her hands in his. “Can I ask you something?” He looks at her earnestly. “What do you sell?”
She chuckles. "That's a long story. To make it short I sell solutions, what that is depends on the client. I'm a middleman of sorts, when one business needs clay to make bowls I source it from another and organise transport when required. You've heard the expression "greasing the wheels"? I make it my business to be the grease"
“You are fantastic. I would like to see you in action, one day,” he begins. “And, um, I’ve been meaning to ask this but, you are an elf right?”
She smiles. "Three quarters, but that seems to be enough for most people and most magic"
He grins. “No - I wasn’t asking for any reason like that. I just don’t want to have to imagine a life where our lifespans don’t align,” he states, somewhat emotionally. “Sorry, I just had one more question.” He clears his throat, and looks her straight in the eyes.
“Do you like me?” He asks hesitantly. “Not - not love. We are engaged so I know you love me. But if we weren’t engaged, and I wasn’t the heir to house Arthiar, would you still… spend time with me?” He squeezes her hands and looks down at the floor, embarrassed.
She hesitates and then tries to smile.
"Would I? Yes Zaspar, I would. It's just who I am"
He nods rapidly and exhales shakily. “Okay,” he replies, and reaches out to embrace her again. “My father told me people would only want me for my money. Sometimes I get scared that he’s right. Sorry for putting that on you, Robin. I just needed to hear it.” He holds her more tightly for a second, not noticing anything in her posture or response to indicate anything other than the truth - the truth he desperately needed to hear.
And he smiles, a true genuine smile, one of his first since arriving in Kantas. He lets her go from his embrace, and she can see again tears threatening to spill from his eyes. “Thank you, Robin. I’m so lucky to have you.” He leans in and kisses her gently. “I’ll leave you now to have your evening out. Thank you for everything.” He is barely holding his composure together at this point.
She embraces him just as tight in return, and kisses him again after he finishes speaking.
"Take care sweetheart, take good care of yourself please. You deserve to be happy, you always do"
He nods and turns away, walking off into the evening, fidgeting with his ring and trying not to cry.
Everything was so confusing. Everything he was told about Robin made him want to end things. But the moment he raises any of these concerns with her, she dispels them so effortlessly, kindly, and honestly that he can’t help but be swept up in her. She’s not undead, not a vampire, and she’s a legitimate businesswoman. She’s an elf, too, so he won’t outlive her.
Maybe no one is lying to him. Maybe what she said is true - that she is a different woman to him than she is the rest of the world. Would that be such a bad thing?
He makes his slow walk home, alone, confused, and somewhat afraid.
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Post by Zaspar on Oct 23, 2024 23:28:51 GMT
Act IV: Adagio
I just wanted to hide
Didn’t wanna face the world
As if everything has lost meaning
As if I have lost meaning
I just sat there still
Then you appeared before me
With a warm smile, you held out your hand
Everything’s alright
Thanks to Beets The Beetle (Feenix)
In the farthest left corner of the Arthiar mansion is one of two Libraries. This library is for the usage of the family and their tutors. Zaspar has spent hundreds of hours here in his youth, as has his sister, and soon, his younger brothers will too. He has claimed the room for the day. For he has invited Beets over to have their Draconic lesson, as it is getting a bit too cold to keep up with that on the rooftops.
Tables of books lay around the room, and the walls are covered in intricate wooden bookshelves. Strangely, for a library, there is no dust anywhere - the cleaners are extremely active in this room.
This library is purely for academic pursuits. Various books on language, schools of magic, finances, and other such topics fill the shelves, as well as more specialised knowledge such as the Bardic College of Creation, Foolproof Illusion Magic for Beginners, and Songwriting 101.
Zaspar sits on one of the sofas by a window, attempting to read through a Draconic children's story he had bought at the market. It is not that it is difficult that is slowing him down - rather, it is just that he is struggling to focus. He sighs, attempting to re-read the same sentence yet again, and waits for a Butler to bring Beets to him.
–
Beets shook a scattering of rain drops from her soaked hair as she landed, before walking up the final few steps leading up Zaspar’s ‘house’…
It certainly was some house alright, she reflected again, as she reached the great wooden front door. One that could have easily fitted the cubby door of the woodland cottage she had grown up in at least ten times over - and this place, Zaspar has been prone to remind her on occasion, was apparently “a lot smaller” than his main family estate back in Faerûn.
Beets still felt a slight air of apprehension as she reached her hand up to knock upon the door. It was her first time visiting the place since, well, the whole party proposal affair. Her chats with Zaspar’s parents as well as Zaspar’s own revelations to her about what his future prospects held here for him that night, couldn’t help Beets see the place as anything but a gold gilded cage. She'd been reluctant to even flit near it during any of her recent delivery runs.
No matter how big it was, or how fancy you dressed it up, a cage was still a cage, even if the bars were the kind you couldn’t see.
Beets shook her head again before taking a steadying breath. She just hoped that in time, and with her guidance, Zaspar would realise that actually he himself held the key to it. She knocked.
Surprisingly, it is Zaspar’s mother, Celeste Arthiar, who opens the door. Servants hover behind her, having heard the door, unsure how to proceed now that she has opened it.
She smiles tensely at Beets and offers her a very awkward hug. It is more of a pat on the back, really. She gestures for Beets to come in, and takes a towel from a nearby Butler, offering it to Beets for her hair. Beets couldn’t hide her grimace at the forced show of affection from Zaspar’s mother. They hadn’t gotten off to a great start upon their first meeting at Zaspar’s party, especially after she’d learnt about Beets’ more rudimentary roots and unorthodox teaching methods. Flit, she’d had warmer receptions from dragons, and that included the ones that had tried to eat her!
With a small “Thanks.” She’d taken and rubbed the offered towel over her hair, noting the ‘luxuriousness’ of it, the little embroidered crest. It was probably one of the softest things she’d ever felt, yet its touch brought her no comfort.
“Hello, Beets. I will take you to Zaspar now.” Celeste looks at the staff gathered around her and makes a quick, fluid motion with her hands. They all scurry to their posts.
The walk to the library is long and painfully silent. It really didn’t feel too 'homely', Beets thought as she followed Celeste through the pristine yet rather 'empty' feeling halls. The place had no real signs of being 'lived in'. It was too...Static. No little piles of books or letters, no coats or scarves placed on the back of chairs or freshly laundered socks or undies drying by the fire. No half emptied baskets or bags of pastries from Paradise Frost along with a scattering of crumbs or dustings of icing sugar. Alright, so not every home was The Beetlebase Beets reflected, they especially for one didn't all have that patch of black mould above the 2nd rafter to the right that she'd taken to referring to as Bogar Jr. But still. Beets knew when a home felt like a home.
They are in yet another ornate hallway when Celeste speaks up. “Beets. I know there are some things that boys won’t tell their mothers, even my little Adi seems to have his secrets. Something is troubling him about these adventures, and he will not tell me.” She continues to glide through the hallways, pausing outside a large, ornate door. “I do hope your mentorship extends to more than just languages.” She states, staring down at Beets, one hand on the door handle.
Beets looked back pointedly at Celeste as she hovered in place, taking in her form as she rested her hands on the towel draped over her shoulders before she moved closer to speak to her. "I'm pretty sure 'Zaspar'," she said, making a point of emphasising the name before continuing, her eyes not leaving Celeste's, "is quite entitled to keep a few secrets, and as his mentor..and his 'friend' I'll do well to respect that, unless he chooses to disclose them to me. As should you as his 'Mother.'" Beets ended again, emphasising on her last word.
Celeste shows no sign of reacting to Beets’ words. “How moving. You would do well to remember you are in my house, Beets. And you would do well to listen properly. I did not ask you to share his secrets. I simply asked if you might try to help him.”
Without waiting for a response, Celeste opens the door. Zaspar, who had been resting with the Draconic storybook open over his face, startles awake and the book drops to the floor with a soft thud. He scrambles to his feet, smoothing out his clothes, his face flushed.
"Mother! I didn’t expect to see you," he stammers, still trying to compose himself. Celeste glides toward him, unfazed, and immediately starts fussing with his hair.
Switching to Elvish, she softens her tone as she removes his circlet and smooths his curls. "Adi, my dear, you look so tired. This adventuring business does not suit you."
Zaspar shifts awkwardly, giving Beets an apologetic glance. "I'm fine, honestly. I’ve been looking forward to my Draconic lesson all week," he replies, though Celeste doesn’t spare a glance for Beets.
"Hm." She continues tidying his hair, then places his circlet back on his head, tucking away stray curls. "Much better. You should really get your hair cut. And the etiquette tutor is here today if-Beets needs him," she adds pointedly.
Zaspar chuckles, shaking his head. "Robin said my hair looks good like this." At the mention of his fiancée, Celeste stiffens, her hands freezing mid-motion."And if Beets wants tutoring, I'll let you know. But she's fine just the way she is, Mother."
Celeste gives him a light hug, her movements stiff. "We’ll discuss Robin later, my sweet boy. If you need anything, call the butlers. I'm off for a bath."
—-
As she leaves, Zaspar lets out a laugh, turning to Beets. "She doesn’t know you speak Elvish," he says with a grin, stepping forward to give her a warm hug.
Beets returns the hug, before pulling the towel from her shoulders and waving it cheekily in her hand with a grin. "Heh it's fine. She didn't actually insult me to my face this time. Do you think she needs this towel for her bath? I'm happy to return it to her."
Zaspar gives her a slightly astonished look. "Um, that... won't be necessary, Mother has her own towels," he almost stutters, reaching into a drawer to pull out a small, polished sending stone. Holding it to his mouth, he speaks into it in Elvish, his voice carrying an almost automatic precision. "Butler, please collect a towel from the West Library." The stone hums softly in response, and Zaspar sets it back down, gesturing for Beets to take a seat on one of the many sofas in the room.
Beets raises an eyebrow at the 'butler summons' before laying the towel down on the immense hearth in front of the crackling fire and flits down onto the sofa nearest Zaspar.
"So I take it that inviting me here wasn't just to keep dry during our lesson? You know there's always space at the Beetlebase, unless you have another reason other than avoiding being one of Gary's latest culinary creation taste testers?"
Zaspar smiles and sits next to her. Before he can reply, a Butler has already entered and removed the offending towel.
"Well. I had a very weird interaction with Jeremy, to be honest. Plus, sometimes it's nice to be at home, hmm? Did you want anything by the way?"
"Pretty much any interaction with Jeremy can be... weird." Beets waits till the retreating and bowing butler has left the room. "...eird. He's finally got his Webbed toe issue sorted though. Bit of advice, don't try free samples from the hags in the Dawn Market."
"Oh uhm-you mean food?" Beets asks in response to Zaspar's hospitality question. Nah I'm good thanks, Diana actually cooked breakfast this morning as Gary's in bed with a cold. Bug she makes some flittin’great pancakes."
"Oh sure, food, drinks, etiquette tutoring, whatever you want," Zaspar laughs. "And yeah, I unfortunately witnessed the hag curing his toe. He asked me to carry some rotted meat around so I obviously refused. Then got to witness that... interaction," Zaspar shakes his head at the strange memory. "Anyway, how are you?"
He seems comfortable, but Beets knows him well enough to sense a slight agitation underneath his relaxed tone.
"Rotted meat..?" Beets murmured to herself. "Pretty sure Diana wouldn't have approved that delievery..Guess I'll ask her about it later...Oh-sorry. " She started, just clocking Zaspar's question. "Uhm well..fine...Uh..Damp." She grinned, gesturing towards the heavy rain drops pelting against the window that had been plaguing Daring Heights on and off for the last couple weeks now. "Been a bit quiet on the whole adventuring front but nothings really taken my fancy. How about you?" Beets enquired, crossing one leg up on the sofa beside her. "How was your party boat trip?"
Zaspar nods a bit too much. “Yes, the boat trip. I ended up working on the boat rather than hiring it, but I still got to work on my tan a bit, so it wasn’t all a loss,” he states, rolling up his sleeves to show off said tan. “Looks good, right?” He smiles and flexes his biceps for no apparent reason, laughing at himself as he does so.
Zaspar then sighs heavily, his expression shifting. “Thanks for coming over, Beets. Truthfully, I was hoping to get some mentoring, more so than Draconic today, if that’s okay?” He fidgets slightly, his gaze dropping for a moment before meeting hers again, showing he’s serious. “A lot has been happening in my adventures lately, and I could really use some advice.”
Beets truthfully had been waiting for this change in Zaspar's moral, she might not get the best read on folks, but once they let their guard down she was ready to mandible up and flit into action, though this situation called for mouth movements of a different nature. "Well,” Beets said, crossing both her legs and leaning forward. "I always said you could ask me anytime for help when you need Zaspar. What's the flit?"
Zaspar stares thoughtfully into the fireplace. "Thank you, Beets," he begins, kicking his shoes off, then pulling his knees up to his chin on the sofa. He rests his head on his knees then turns it to look at Beets."Before I start telling you all my troubles. Are you sure everything is okay with you? No dramas going on? It seems that all of my friends are going through something these days…"
Beets was struck with a sudden feeling of déjà vu as she watched Zaspar curl up on himself, a position she knew all too well from adopting it during chats she'd shared with Pa, Gramps and some of her closest friends. One where if you held your problems tight to you and curled up into a nice tight ball, maybe just maybe, they would get smaller too, perhaps even disappear all together.
"Truthfully Zaspar. Yes, I'm fine. I'm great even. " Beets admitted, before sparing another glance at her contracted friend.
"I've got no issues going on right now. Things are all quiet on the - well," She stopped herself upon mentioning the Bogar/Almek’Irahj-the grand Hierophant situation. There was no reason to tempt fate. "T-things are just quiet and well for me right now, except that something is troubling you, my mentee." She finished, looking back at him and resting her elbows on her knees before gently propping her head upon her interlaced fingers.
"Anything you need to get off 'your chest'?"
Zaspar smiles at her. "I'm glad to hear it, my friend. Yes, I have a lot on my chest. I don't really know where to start. Do you remember Robin, from my party?"
"Oh yes your..fiance," Beets said, again vaguely remembering a flit of a fair haired pale girl with a regal but tidy attire she'd spotted Zaspar chatting with a few weeks ago. "How’s that all… doing?" She asked, rather unsure. Should she have made an encouraging romantic remark, or else asked how the ‘marriage-paperwork’ was proceeding? Zaspar had made this whole 'relationship' for statistical standing not romantic nature sound very..Complicated.
"A beauty like hers is hard to forget," Zaspar acknowledged, smiling softly. "Well, honestly Beets, a lot has happened." A faint blush rises on his cheeks. "I umm - forgive me, for being ungentlemanly. But we are very compatible lovers, Beets. And since that discovery, shall we say, well, it is feeling a lot less like the business proposal I made and a lot more like... Love," he confesses.
"I digress. My confusion starts from the fact that she dislikes Dee'arna. I still haven't really worked out why. There are some theories, of course, but I don't want to tell you them yet, so I can get your honest judgement...Do you have any idea what the problem could be?"
Beets blinked and stared back at Zaspar. “Well I mean I try-and not judge people Zaspar.” It was a work in progress. “But I mean,” she continued, “Dee’arna seems perfectly nice and all. Have you thought of maybe just asking Robin, if or why she has a problem with her?”
“Yes. I have actually asked them both. Robin told me that Dee insulted her, and she wanted to push me away from people who might help me in life.” Zaspar pats around on the sofa, pulling out a thick, leather bound notebook. He flips through it until he lands on the page he is seemingly looking for.
“Then I met with Dee’arna and, at this point, I was convinced it must be romantic jealousy. Dee told me in no uncertain terms that we are incompatible as anything beyond friends - despite how handsome I am and how beautiful she is. So my theory was surprisingly incorrect.” Zaspar is reciting from his diary now. As he reads further, he nods his head at his inimitable intellect. Who but Zaspar could have ever thought to note down the events of their day?
“Ah yes, in the temple of Waukeen, Dee then said that Robin is in the Hekrati and is involved in organised crime.” He summarises, snapping the book shut, and looking at Beets. “Forgive me, I do not want to give away everything that has happened all at once, you see. I would like to hear your reactions as we go through it all.”
Beets reflected on Zaspar’s detailed diary of events, she flitted over Zaspar’s terms of fluffy flattery, she’d grown so accustomed to hearing them directed towards folks-including himself-that she just now accepted it as part of his personality.
She knew nothing of these Hekrati, though with Zaspar’s mention of organised crime she assumed it to be some kind of..‘gang?’
“Okay, and so how do you feel about things?” Beets enquires, hoping Zaspar would give her a little more to play with. “Does Robin want you to join this..ga-..This..organisation?” She ventured.
Zaspar stretches out a little and nods approvingly. "Good question, Beets." He begins to fiddle with the engagement ring on his finger, spinning it around in circles. "So, the thing is, she vehemently, angelically, beautifully denied to me any membership of the Hekrati. She is very beautiful." He pauses.
"I didn't think she was lying to me though. Afterwards, though, I got invited to that Hekrati party as the guest of honour. I took Robin with me, and she didn't seem to know anyone, she was out of her element at the party again. She is rather shy."
He opens his diary again, flipping to the relevant pages. "Kem told me that he slept with the Hekrati boss and found out that Robin is indeed in the Hekrati. This boss, by the way, is some sort of Vampire woman. And the Hekrati do cult stuff. We had to go rescue someone they had kidnapped and there were ritual circles and demonic stuff. Anyway, Kem told me that they want my money. I am unsurprised and unmoved by this fact. I have been warned for 101 years that anyone who is romantically involved with me is partially after my money, anyway." He shrugs. "Plus, the Hekrati were really nice to us at the party. I've been thinking, if she is in the Hekrati, would that be so bad?" Zaspar pauses, looking up to Beets as he asks his question, clearly looking for reassurance.
“I mean it’s a little strange that for being part of that group that she doesn’t seem to know that many people,” Beets started. “But if like you say she’s shy, perhaps she’s just slow at making friends. I can respect her wanting to keep something that's ‘her-thing’-her thing though I’d advise you to be careful of any too deep dealings with demons and vampires. Their bites buggin’hurt for one!” She added, rubbing a spot on her neck inadvertently.
“As for the money part, I sorta get sharing of wealth and what you have is part-and-parcel in relationships. But as long as both of you are ‘giving’ as well as receiving, and you’re both genuinely happy and honest with one another, I don’t really see a problem in those aspects.” Beets finished with a shrug.
“I’m - as you know - not greatly versed in the workings of love.” Beets said, letting her hands come down to rest on her lap. “But do you feel ‘happy’ when you’re with her? Do you think she feels the same?”
Zaspar leans back, letting out a small sigh as he collects his thoughts. “We disagree sometimes,” he begins slowly, his voice quieter. “It’s usually about little things. Well, things that feel small, but they always seem to escalate. Like, when I ask about her past or what she’s doing, she gets defensive. She’ll turn it around, make me feel like I’m the one who’s prying too much, and I should just be happy knowing what I know about her.”
He glances at Beets, his expression conflicted. “But then, when we’re not disagreeing, she says the sweetest things. She tells me she’s ‘made to love me.’ That I’m the only one who understands her, who truly sees her. It feels intoxicating. I want to believe her, and when she says those things, it’s like nothing else matters.”
His hand moves to his ring again, twisting it nervously. “If we’re so perfect for each other, why does it feel like she’s hiding half of her life from me?” He pauses, biting his lip. “I don't know how to balance it all. I know she's hiding things from me, Beets. She tells lies sometimes. And the other day she told me that the woman who the rest of the world sees is not the woman who I see." Zaspar sits forward and sighs, wringing his hands.
"It's very messy. I don't want to join some sort of vampiric cult. But, Beets, she's not even a vampire, I checked," he reassures, looking her in the eyes.
Some of things Zaspar had said just struck her all wrong. Beets exhaled through her nose as she thought. 'Messy’ as Zaspar had said, certainly was a word for it, ‘Buggin’omplicated’ was another.
Unsure what to do Beets reached out a hand to rest it atop of Zaspar’s own to calm them. “Zaspar…” She started, trying to be as tactful and cautious as possible.
“Far flit’it for me to tell you what to think or how to think but…Aren’t, relationships meant to be, built on ‘trust’? This whole.. ‘Situation’” - she decided - “with Robin sounds…” Beets trailed off before nodding almost to herself, and pushing on again.
“Zaspar, flattery and people saying nice words about you can be..nice. Very nice even, they can make you feel.. ‘Special.’” Beets held Zaspar’s hands steady under hers as she said her next part, “But if there’s no real meaning behind them Zaspar, no honest ‘true’ feeling, then well, that’s just all they are, Zaspar. Just words.”
She let her statement hang in the air for a little bit, allowing time for Zaspar to take it in, but also herself. It was such a mentor-ish declaration, one that she couldn’t quite half believe she’d come out with it. It was like something Gramps would say to her, sitting her up on his knee beside the fire, or cuddling up together in a blanket before the fire. But like whenever Gramps spoke to her, meaning every word, had gazed at her with his kind eyes, that wise knowing smile behind that bushy white beard, Beets knew she meant every word she’d said too.
“Zaspar, if you can’t believe and trust Robin for what she says or doesn’t want to say..in here…” She raised her free hand to press two fingers lightly against the side of her forehead. “Then how can you trust what she says or how you feel about here?” She moved the two fingers forward to lightly press against Zaspar’s chest before looking back up at him, letting the silence hang but for the crackle of the fire and the constant drum of the rain on the windows.
Sometimes some silence, she knew, was good to take things in. Beets tried not to look back at her fingers on Zaspar’s chest, really hoping that that was where elves' hearts were.
Zaspar sat quietly for a moment. He reached out to take Beets' hand from his chest, tapping it in appreciation, before placing it back on her own lap. He cleared his throat awkwardly and began to tap his foot frantically, again.
"I don't - the thing is, I do trust her, Beets, and I do love her," He admits, sheepishly. "Look - I should tell you about the date we went on the other day." Another heavy sigh from Zaspar, and he looks up to meet Beets' eyes.
"I spoke to Dee and Kem, and they said I should try and get out of this situation, but that for my 'safety'" - and, he does curl his fingers in the air to approximate air quotes - "I should get Robin to break up with me, not the other way. To tell her I have to wait centuries for my inheritance, to show her how I'm friends with paladins now, to get her a necklace of Kelemvor." He just shakes his head. "That's really stupid, isn't it? I don't really know why I listened to them. I guess I was just desperate to feel like I was doing something rather than just letting myself be 'used' by her. So anyway, I did all that. She's an elf so she's happy to wait centuries. She liked the paladins and saved me from fighting one. And she loved the Kelemvor necklace."
"Everything people tell me about Robin, I go see her, and the exact opposite becomes true. She loves me, Beets, and she said she would still be with me if I lost my inheritance. No one has ever said they like me for me, before.”
A pause. “I haven't told anyone this part, Beets, because I still feel upset when I think about it, but when I went to visit her, she wasn't wearing her engagement ring. She just put it on whilst she was hugging me. That's when she said all the stuff about how the world sees another version of her." Zaspar squeezed his eyes shut. "So I don't know. I love her, Beets, and she loves me. Why isn't that enough?"
Beets bit her lip as she watched her friend.This was not the Zaspar she knew. Gone was all the flair and flatteries, he was… Well Being honest. He was scared, worried..hurt...
She wanted to reach forward and hug him, or at least, offer her arms out to him, but his recount of his last hug with Robin, she thought he might not appreciate it.
She also realised, as she took long slow steading breaths, that with her emotions flitting around as they were inside so much, blurring her senses, that being any inch too close quarters with Zaspar was not a good idea. She felt Sadness.Sadness for Zaspar. Anger…Anger against this Robin, but also..maybe some sadness for her too perhaps?
Beets could already hear the faint tell tale droning creeping from the back of her head.
So instead, she asked him a question: "Zaspar. Why did you change your name?"
Zaspar is visibly confused by the change in subject "I'm a high elf. It is customary, in some families, to change your name once you reach adulthood, and you already know the meaning of my name. My sister has changed hers, too. Why?"
"R-right." Beets nods, she’d already know the answer of course, but was it the real one? Not wanting Zaspar to stray off topic into elven family customs-Zaspar already did that regularly enough that she'd forgotten countless detailed talks he'd given her on the subject, she pressed on "But why did you choose yours?"
"Um, well, I wanted something that people would remember. A legacy, if you will. It's quite the dramatic title, and even better, it's one I wrote myself." Zaspar smiles softly. "Plus, it's ancient Elvish which is cool. I do still like being called Adagio, though, if you were going to ask if you can call me that? The answer would be 'yes'."
He was, honestly, rather worried that Beets was about to completely change the topic of conversation to Elvish customs. Not that he minds discussing that - it is one of his most knowledgeable topics, of course - just that he really wants to know what she thinks about Robin. But he trusts her enough to let the conversation proceed.
"I get the dramatics. But Zaspar, you're not religious are you?" Beets said, trying to think if she'd missed anytime Zaspar may have mentioned it.
"No, I'm not."
"Right." Beets said with a nod, that was what she’d expected. "And as for 'Fist," she continued , recalling her rooftop combat bouts with Zaspar-he'd always preferred to use his sword than use his own inbuilt weapons. "Is there any reason why you've chosen-that?"
"You sound like my sister," Zaspar laughs slightly. "That's what she asked me too." He just shrugs at Beets. "It sounds cool, right?"
"Is that the only reason?" Beets says, looking back at him unfazed by his jest. "It sounds cool?"
"Kind of?" Zaspar replies, uncertainly. "I was under a bit of time pressure, but yes, it's cool, it's memorable, it's good to have a title for when the history books refer to you."
Beets lifted her eyebrows at that, ever so slightly, before saying.
"And do you really care about that? Honestly?" She let the silence hang before adding,
"and if Robin, really, truly..loves you… Do you think she'd care about that too?"
"I am... not entirely sure I understand your question, Beets. Are you asking if Robin wants to go down in history, too, perhaps as the Holy Fist-ess?" Zaspar shakes his head. "I need to workshop her title. But, what do you mean?"
Beets pinched her brow. Wow, was this what it had been like for her friends trying to get things through to her at times? She took a breath and looked back at Zaspar. "No Zaspar. What I'm trying to say is. When I first left home, I took a different name too, I called myself 'Beets-The Beetle.' Because when people saw me, they thought I was wearing some kinda costume. That I was some kind of travelling performer."
Beets thinks back on that entrance into that first village she had set flit’in since being ousted from her own. Hungry, lonely, unbearably aching with sadness at the loss of her Pa and the mysterious departure of Gramps soon after. She had been so scared of what reaction she would get from its inhabitants. Would they scream and run in panic, scowl and pull their children close, or would they yell out and arm themselves. Point weapons in her direction and chase her out. Or strike her down. Honestly..She hadn’t really cared either way. If it made the pain go away.
But the folks in the village had looked at her not with fear but intrigue, not with repulsion but with awe, especially in the eyes of one little girl who had walked forward to her. 'Are you a performer?' She'd asked Beets.
"I lied Zaspar” Beets said..” I told her-a little girl..-Villagers, entire villages that I was a performer. I took on the role of 'Beets-The Beetle, Beets the travelling strong-bug.'
I did it because I was scared, Zaspar. I was scared of what the rest of the world might do if they saw, if they knew the real me. I pretended, Zaspar. I pretended for so long, making up so much stuff till I started to believe it myself. Until I didn't know who I was anymore..And it broke me…."
Beets gaze trailed off with her words, looking out towards the window, and the dashed raindrops trickling down the panes. There's silence for almost a minute before, "I-It took me a long time to get better." Beets says before moving her sight back towards Zaspar. "Zaspar... Adagio...I don't want that for you."
Beets meets Zaspar's gaze, and in it Zaspar can see the pain and the turmoil that she's lived through reflected in her dark emerald, almost black in their core eyes.
"You've gotta be true to who you are, and not make choices because you think it's the easy one to make, or because it'll just make someone else happy but not yourself."
Zaspar exhales and leans forward, throwing his arms around Beets and squeezing her tightly. He lets go after a few seconds but sits much closer to her, hoping his presence will offer some form of comfort. He takes a while to ponder his words.
"The 'name' thing, to me, isn't that important. It's just what elves do, really. Whether people call me Zaspar, or Adagio, it's the same person." He pauses again. "But, I get what you mean. I think I am... 'pretending'... a lot. I understand what you mean Beets. Or - not Beets. What is your name? Would you like to be called by it? It feels different when people call me Adagio. More intimate, I guess. Maybe it would be the same for you."
Beets almost flinched at the hug, but didn't resist. It really felt like Zaspar was opening up to her, she had to be there for him. And if she was honest, she’d needed that hug as much as he did.
"Well..My name really is Beets.. Adagio." She continued, staring into fire. "It was The Beetle’ part that was pretending. Gramps did call me 'Little bug' sometime." Beets admitted.
She had never told anybody that before.
Zaspar nodded. "Beets does suit you," he smiles softly at her. "I'm sorry. I hate that people made you feel that you had to pretend to be something else. There is so much more to you than the shape of your legs." He paused, laying a hand on her shoulder. "I hope you know you do not have to be 'The Beetle' around me. Just Beets, my best friend, is more than enough for me."
For a moment, silence. Then,
"This... is probably the first 'big' decision I've made for myself. My life is decided for me. Learn the viol, learn to fence, go on some adventures, inherit the house, be Count Arthiar. And the fact that my first decision might be a mistake is hard to accept." He leans his head back to stare at the ceiling, taking his hand off her shoulder, and once again, fidgeting with the ring on his finger. "Well, people keep saying it's a mistake. But I do love her. And she says she loves me, and that people are upset about our relationship. How am I meant to know if she's 'the one'? - I might just be wrong about everything."
“Sometimes, you’ve just gotta try…” Beets said, narrating Zaspar’s ceiling gaze of the shadows of drips and trickles of rain drops from the window across it. “You’ve gotta try, and if it turns out to be a mistake you’ve just gotta face it then hopefully pick yourself up, learn from it and hopefully not make the same mistakes you did before. I’m not telling you how to live Zaspar, no one has the right to do that.”
“I just want you to know, that sometimes the choices you make might not always turn out the way you expected, but it doesn’t mean you’ll regret them, it doesn’t mean you won’t..find things you didn’t know you were looking for but..were actually the things you needed all along.”
Zaspar turned back to look at Beets, his expression softening. "You really think so?" And for what was probably the dozenth time that week, his eyes rimmed with tears, though this time, he was smiling.
"Thanks, Beets. I never thought of it like that. Father wasn't very - forgiving, of my mistakes, shall we say. But he doesn't really know about the Robin situation. so I guess it can just be my decision and if it's a mistake, my mistake." A tear falls down his cheek, and he sniffles, reaching up to swipe it away. "Sorry, I just... I don't know. I wasn't expecting that answer,"
Zaspar's voice steadied, his smile growing more genuine. "Maybe taking this leap with Robin is worth it, even if it’s scary." He hesitated again for a second. "Is that what you meant?"
“If that's what it feels to you.” Said Beets simply, giving him a small steady smile back.
He smiled broadly back at her, wiping his eyes for what seemed to be the final time for the moment.
He begins to speak, voice small, "Hey, if this goes really badly, will you still be my friend?"
“Of course I will Adagio.” Beets says equally quietly, raising her hand slowly to initiate a bro-fist, “I’m not going anywhere.”
Zaspar bumps fists with her and exhales shakily. They sit in silence for a while, contemplating the depths of their previous discussion. Then, Zaspar picks up his children’s draconic book, holding out the first page to Beets. “That looks like you,” he says, pointing at a dragon that looks absolutely nothing like her, and laughing freely.
Beets pulls a face before starting to tell him about the time she did actually become a red dragon, if only to gorge upon fire giant banquet food till she fell asleep, making them both laugh even more at her rumbling dragon snores.
Things will be alright, Adagio thinks.
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