thecapitol | No one can unring this bell.

Entry tags:

No one can unring this bell.

WHO| Maxwell & Tabris
WHAT| Maxwell tries to set the record straight, and gets some things off his chest.
WHERE| District 10
WHEN| Sometime after this. Let's say a few days or so.
Warnings/Notes| Manly feelings.

Tabris hadn't meant anything by it, Maxwell knew; and even if she had, it only been to try and help. It wasn't her fault she didn't understand. That she didn't know. It wasn't as if he'd explained... as if he'd talked about it at all, to anyone.

He'd thought it would be better that way. It was his problem, his weight. He didn't want to burden anyone else with it. Didn't want it to get back to Dorian - to trouble him more. Didn't want to face his pity, or his disgust, or... all the other things that played through his head when he imagined telling the man.

But Tabris was involved now. Had guessed enough to think he needed help.

(...And maybe he did, if not that brand of it.)

And thus far, she hadn't struck him as the type to let things go.

So he went to see her, hoping to set the record straight. Hoping she would just let it lie -- at least until it didn't sting quite so much.

Knocking, he stood silently outside her door, eyes moving slowly over the little board tacked to the wood. A dozen cute, fluffy cats staring back at him as he waited.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Those are DOGS, you uncultured swine.

In any event, the door would be pulled open in short effect, and Tabris would be looking up at him with a measure of confusion. It wasn't that she didn't like Maxwell--Quite the opposite, she'd grown unexpectedly fond of the Inquisitor, and she was glad to be able to call him friend--One of the reasons that she had been attempting to stick Dorian and him together, because it was pretty clear to anyone with a brain that the two were interested in each other.

Nevertheless, she wouldn't have expected him to show up to her door. She wore pajamas--A shirt that looked suspiciously like it'd been stolen from Alistair, and baggy shorts, with her hair rumpled up. But her eyes were alert, and she seemed awake as she greeted the man. "Hey, Maxwell. Finally couldn't resist the siren call of these bangin' body, huh." She says in a deadpan. "I knew it."

She backs up to let the man in, running a hand through her short cropped hair in an attempt to fix it. "I was just watching TV in bed. They have some really intriguing shows, you know that? Beyond the games. But you're probably here for something besides TV, right?" What could bring the man to her door? She had a sneaking suspicion, because of what had happened just recently, with the last time they had spoken, but waited for him to say it.

So, he wanted Tabris to officially play match maker, huh? Perfect. Her mind already began to puzzle out plans to get him his heart's desire, because at her heart, she was kind of a hopeless romantic.

Cats, dogs -- whatever they were, they were small, fluffy and entirely too adorable for the mood he was in. The irony of their fixed, happy stares was nearly too much.

Before he could even ask if he was interrupting, she was stepping back to let him in. Glancing around her room he only half-heard the teasing. (She was settling in here, while he still lived like the ghost he felt like.)

"...Not exactly," he said, looking briefly at the screen before turning back to her. The television cast moving shadows across his profile, making hollows of his cheeks, and turning his normally tanned skin sallow. "I wanted to talk to you about what happened the other day."

Adaptation. You could say it was the elven way, to thrive in whatever environment she was put in, or that Tabris was simply too stubborn to not take what enjoyment she could out of the Capitol. If they were going to force her to be here, she was going to take what she could out of it. Either way--She was settling in, and the room itself showed. It was well used, and Tabris had even begun to acquire little knick knacks, and pictures.

She sat down on her bed, crossing her legs, and turning off the TV. His words confirm her suspicions, and she nods, leaning forward.

"You're turning to the old married woman for advice? A wise choice, Maxwell. Don't worry, I'll impart on you all my knowledge. Dorian isn't quite Alistair, but I'm sure what worked for me will work for you. The first thing you need to do, in order to express interests, is get him presents. Cute little knick knacks you think he'll like. It shows that you care about his interests, and that you think of him, even when he's not around." She began, gesturing with her hands as she spoke.

"Now, what Dorian would want, I can't tell you. But it can't be that hard."

"That's not what--"

But he couldn't get it out, not before she was a roll, like a runaway horse, all energy and eagerness. Bowling him under her hooves.

He winced, slightly, as she spoke of affection and gifts, and waited eyes on the floor until she paused for a beat longer than a breath.

"That's what I wanted to talk about," he said, looking up again. "I appreciate the help and in other circumstances I might even seek it, but this -- isn't that time. You've gotten the wrong idea about us. The truth of it is... there is no Dorian and I."

She tilted her head, and frowned, leaning back. Was he trying to deny that they were interested in each other? No, that couldn't be it. Or if it was, he was a very bad liar. In the end, she decides that it's not really enough information.

"Well, not with that attitude, there isn't. If you're shy, I can talk to him."

He blinked at her, and then snorted. A wry, low chuckle that was less a laugh than weariness.

"I'd rather you didn't," he shook his head, a pained sort of smile mirroring her frown. "It's complicated, Tabris."

Edited 2015-05-07 22:28 (UTC)

She sighs, and leans back, crossing her arms and staring at him. She really hopes that it's not something silly that's keeping them apart, like being dudes, or not wanting to hook up in the middle of this disaster. Whatever it is, she can probably puzzle it out. That's what she's supposed to do.

"Fine, it's complicated."

She spreads her hands apart.

"How complicated is it?"

It was clear, whatever it was weighed heavily on him. At her prompting, his mouth opened, but nothing but silence came as he struggled to explain.

To talk about it.

"It's..." He turned away with a shake of his head, a hard breath pushing through his nose. He paced a few steps away until the wall forced him to stop. Leaning against it, he looked back, arms folding tightly across his chest. "...You know it isn't the same for all of us. Where we come from. Our worlds are - different. In mine, Dorian and I--"

He broke off, closed his eyes.

"I loved him."

She leaned forward as he darted around the subject. She was nearly ready to get up and shake whatever what on his chest right off of him. Forcefully. When he finally spits it out, her eyebrows raise up, and she lets out a low whistle. She had thought about the possibility of it happening to her, before she knew that her husband was here. Everyone else had this asshole king. If he'd shown up, Tabris might've pitched him off the tower.

"Shit, Maxwell. And I take it that this Dorian...he's not yours, is he?"

"I thought he was teasing me, at first."

He shook his head again, staring at the tips of his boots, polished to such a high shine he could almost see his reflection - a smudgy lump in the crease of the leather.

"...But then I could see it, when he looked at me. He didn't know me. Never knew me at all."

The words were low and quiet, but heavy. To match the weight in his eyes when he finally looked up again to meet her gaze. The crushing pain of it.

"I won't deny that I-- when I'm with him I...." He trailed off, the words catching. "But it doesn't matter. Even if I could say for certain what it meant, Dorian was taken from someone he cared for as well."

"...Shit."

That's all she can say for a while. What else can you say about it? She shakes her head, and slips out of bed. Words are hard, but there's other things she can do. Arms wrap around him, and Maxwell is locked in a tight hug. For a bit, that's all that she can offer.

Then she pulls away. It's time to tell give him advice, because she's the hero, and she's the one that needs to fix the problems.

"Maxwell, I understand the problems. Like--I understand. But the way you two look at each other...Listen. No matter what Cullen says, there's no guarantee we're ever getting out of here. There's no guarantee of anything. And this is clearly bothering you." She glanced at the fake window, the little projection of forest on her wall. "I know it's not...orthodox. But if the two of you can make each other happy, for however much time you have here, wouldn't it be better than spending the next decade miserable?"

He'd expected the conversation to be difficult and he'd thought he'd prepared himself for what he would feel, but he hadn't predicted the embrace. Since arriving, he'd been pushed and pulled and held, but always out of necessity - go here, dodge this, don't do that...

That simple hug from Tabris was the first real gesture of affection he'd been offered in months.

And it nearly undid him.

Blinking hard and clearing his throat, he squeezed an arm free enough to return it until she pulled away and the moment was done.

"...Flirting isn't always intent, Tabris," he replied softly with a small shake of his head. "And even if it were -- it still doesn't necessarily mean anything. ...I think that would be worse than being erased."

Edited 2015-05-10 19:37 (UTC)

She reaches out, and gently puts her hand on his arm. It's not quite as invasive as a hug, but a small gesture of comfort. He looked like he was on the edge of tears--Probably for the best. This had been pressing on him for--How long? Since he first came here, most likely. You can only bottle up emotions for so long before they exploded. A berserker knew that.

"What you need to do, Maxwell, is talk to him." She said, voice quiet, and face solemn. She would still try to help him out, but he was right--This situation was more complicated than it seemed, and Tabris grew serious to reflect that. And it was weighing heavily on Maxwell. She wasn't going to take that lightly.

"The two of you need to figure out where you stand. And where you want to be standing. If he's just flirting, or if there's something there. This place is hell, Maxwell. You shouldn't turn your nose up at any bit of happiness you can find."

She paused, for a moment, and reached up to touch his face.

"If you want to cry, I won't tell anyone." She says it firmly, no jesting in her voice. People cried when they were upset for a reason--It helped. And sometimes, you just needed to let go, where you can trust that no one will judge you.

He looked, for a moment, like he might take her up on it; his eyes darkening, shining, as his Adam's apple lurched up and down in his throat on a thick swallow. But he was too keenly aware of how much he'd already burdened her - more, already, than he'd wanted to trouble anyone.

It was his problem, a deeply personal one, and there were so many already weighing on all of them.

"I expect you're right," he said after a long moment, blinking several times until his gaze steadied again. "Pretending is nice. It's easy... but it's not the truth, and things will never settle without that."

For better or worse.

Reaching up, he took her hand on his cheek and gave it a gentle squeeze.

"Thank you, for listening." He tried to smile, offering her a small, crooked one. "Don't take this the wrong way, but I'm glad you're here. I'm glad I met you."

"Maxwell, there are two options to pretending--Either you take that pretending and you do it so hard that it becomes your reality, and not even you can separate it from the truth...Or it keeps rubbing against you, like a pebble in your boot, that won't go away." Tabris didn't have this problem, but...she'd spent plenty of time pretending. Pretending she knew what she was doing, that she had a hold on things, that she was confident, and assured. Eventually, it became the truth.

But this was a pretending that Maxwell didn't want to be the truth, and that was the difference that was going to eat him up inside, if it didn't get sorted.

"Hey, I know what you mean. Don't worry. I'm glad that I got to meet you, too." She replied, smiling softly at him. But...he was still bottling it up, wasn't he. He wasn't real good at hiding it. So she wrinkled her nose, then reached up, hugging him again, tightly.

"It's okay to be upset, Maxwell. And I don't mind. Don't...shove all those emotions down, or they'll spring back up when you don't want them too."

"Sweet Maker, Tabris," he choked out on a hard, sharp breath as she hugged him again. Half strangled laugh, half wrenched sob. "You're not going to be satisfied until I'm bawling like a babe, are you?"

That fast the heat was back in his eyes, burning and turning the edges of the room to a wet blur.

She saw him. Not an Inquisitor who wasn't, not a stranger with uncomfortable familiarity, not just another Thedosian... but him.

Saw him hurting, and wanted to help.

A tear tracked down his cheek, unable to stop it, and he laughed that strange, half-laugh again.

"Imagine the gossip now, when they catch me leaving like this. They'll think you broke my heart."

"No. I'm a terrible woman, Maxwell, haven't you learned that yet?" She said, voice teasing, but gentle. She keeps her arms around him, but rubs his back as he grouses at her. It'll be okay. Well, maybe it won't. Maybe all of this is going to blow up in their faces and they're going to face agonizing deaths. But didn't that just make stuff like this more important?

It was always a thing she did. Get attached to people. Spend enough time around Tabris, and you wiggle your way into her heart. And Maxwell made it very easy.

So of course she was going to help him. He was a friend.

"Eh. They should be used to the scenario now. You should have seen the tears when I married Alistair, not a dry eye in all of Ferelden." She assured him, grinning.

"I could learn to hate you, I suppose."

There was never a bad time for friendship, to Maxwell. Even in the heart of the hunt for Corypheus, they had found time to find each other. Pranks and card games and easy strolls of the grounds.

There had just been a part of him, a small, scared piece, that had wondered if it would be possible again. Or if it were lightning in a bottle - a once in a lifetime chance.

Was he really anything, beyond the mark?

It was silly, it wasn't fair - he knew that, but fears were never rational.

He rubbed his cheek against his shoulder, smearing the wet trail across his jaw and then away, and when he smiled then, it was a little easier. The sharp edges of the pain receding.

"I'll be sure and work on it."

Edited 2015-05-15 23:07 (UTC)

"I'm sure there are plenty of people around who'd be glad to offer lessons." She replied cheerfully, licking her thumb, and rubbing any errant tears from his face, like a mother with a weeping son. Who says she can't adopt grown men? Fucking fight her.

She keeps holding onto him, though, until she's sure that he's done, and that he feels a little better. Then she pulls away--Keeping her hands on his arms--and inspects him firmly. He's not okay. But sometimes, you need to bring the hurt up, in order to fix it.

He'll get through it. He's a strong man.

"Hell, let me know if you need any pointers. I'm sure I could make you hate me if I tried."

And then, another quick look over him, and she reaches up to pat his shoulder. "You can stay here as long as you need to. And if there's anything I can do to help you, just let me know, Maxwell."

Edited 2015-05-18 06:12 (UTC)

He snorted lowly as she scrubbed her thumb across his cheek, but held politely still, the gesture strangely endearing.

"Thank you again for listening," he replied, reaching up to take her hands, holding them for a moment as he turned to meet her gaze. "And for understanding. It's not fixed, by any means, but it is a little better, just knowing someone's here."

He took a breath, held it a moment, then pushed it out, nodding determinedly.

"I'll talk to him. Soon. ...And then maybe I'll take you up on that offer."

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

No one can unring this bell.

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject