Who: Ari & Aspel What: Trying to have a conversation Where: Aspel’s apartment When: Tonight Rating: PG-ish Status: Complete
It was possible that there was just not enough wine in all of Ivalice to get through this.
The conversation with Drake had been prompted by spur-of-the-moment pique (as far as Ari was concerned, they were now crystal clear on their current circumstances, but then Drake had gone ahead and made her feel untrustworthy anyway -- and licking those wounds was not what she was doing here today), but it had gotten the bard to thinking, and this thinking had netted her a very uncomfortable conclusion.
She had to talk to Aspel.
She had talked to Drake (no further explanation would be required, please, Ajora), and she didn’t want to choose him over Aspel (she didn’t want to choose at all) so that meant she had to talk to Aspel. Somehow.
Thus, the wine.
She tried not to overindulge, remembering vaguely that the last time they’d conversed about this subject, or more or less this subject, everything had degenerated into talk of spinning rooms and rather amazing sex. Not a bad outcome, just… not the desired outcome right now.
Still, it was hard to steer the conversation to the necessary topic (how did one say, I love you but can we just act as though nothing has changed right now, because I don’t know what I want from you except what I’m already getting?) and so, dinner long since consumed, she topped off her glass and said, “This is a particularly nice vintage. You’re spoiling me again.”
“Am I?” A slight smile rose along her lips, a brief glance given to Ari as the smith leaned in and poured herself another glass of mead. Thanks to the drinks from earlier, and now her skills of ignoring problems quite adeptly her issues, Aspel had settled into enjoying the buzz coursing through her veins. “I thought you may have become accustomed to this by now.” A low chuckle was given as she shifted back, leaning into her seat without much thought as an arm shifted, moving to wrap around the bard to pull the other woman close as she took another sip of her drink. Now, if every night could be simple, and relaxed like this, wouldn’t it be nice? Not having to mull over anything serious, or problematic was a relief. The evening would continue on much as any other night she expected. They drink, and talk, have sex, and likely fall asleep in each other’s arms. Really, after such a week, she couldn’t ask for anything much better than this tonight.
Ari’s thoughts, however, ran along an entirely different channel as she leaned closer and tried to be comfortable rather than tense. “I suppose I have become so accustomed as to nearly expect it, yes.” And was that a lead-in? It was the fourth or fifth possible lead-in of the night, and she’d just allowed them to slip by, one after the other, but she was here to talk about this with Aspel and Faram, how hard could it be? (The answer appeared to be: very.)
“You do realize there is no helping it now,” she said, still teetering between plunging into the topic and simply… steering away. Faram, but the urge to do the latter was intense. “You’re going to have to continue doing it indefinitely or I will pout at you, and you wouldn’t want that, I’m sure.”
“Oh?” The word was half laughed as Aspel turned her eyes down on the bard leaning into her side as she shifted, bumping against the bard intentionally. “Is that so?” There was an undoubted amusement, and slight challenge in her tone in her voice as she inquired against Ari’s opinions and observations. Another sip of her mead was taken as an eyebrow quirked down on the smaller woman.
“It is,” Ari confirmed. And did Aspel realize, she wondered, that she had made tiny commitments all along for months? Ari hadn’t recognized them for what they were at first (or, when she had, she had panicked), but there had been multiple mentions, hadn’t there? Even if some of them had been hidden in rather ridiculous conversations about spinning or falling.
They had never quite gotten to terms of staying, but…
“I practically count on your continued indulgence,” she admitted.
A low, brief, amused chuckle slipped out at Ari’s confirmation of the question, and Aspel leaned over, placing a soft, absent kiss on the top of the other woman’s head without much thought regarding the whole mess. The buzz she’d maintained through alcohol continued to keep her spirits on the lighter side, though with Ari’s next statement... Had the air of the room suddenly changed? Something felt…. Off.
“Hrm?” Aspel’s brows knitted together, almost as if she was attempting to put some sort of puzzle together, but didn’t realize what exactly the pieces were even supposed to be. “Is that so?” This time the words were a little more confused, but still attempted to be light, to be somewhat amused.
Ari felt the shift too, however; however minute it might have been -- she was so sensitive to any change in mood just now, trying to figure out how to work her way around to --
Right, why had she thought this was a good moment? This was a terrible moment! Awful! (She could almost wish she could just be exasperated as she had been with Drake, but then that situation and this one didn’t have much in common aside from the fact that she was terribly invested in both.) “Well,” she said, keeping her tone light as she planted a quick kiss on Aspel’s shoulder, “on the bright side, as unfortunate as my pouting would be, I’m certain we would both survive it, so I suppose whenever the situation arises where you no longer desire to indulge me, we’ll get over it. I’ll just enjoy this wine for now.”
There was something here. The lightness of the situation, the night, had seemed to suddenly slip away. A fact - that even with her alcohol muddled mind - Aspel could still grasp, even if she hadn’t the faintest as to what had caused it, or why it seemed to continue on. Was it something she said? Something she’d done? Perhaps, Ari was sensitive again, and her jokes had gone and rubbed the other woman wrong…?
Aspel’s face twisted up, confused, mildly frustrated with something she was trying to figure out as the glass of mead was raised up for another sip. There was a question here she should ask, Aspel could nearly feel it tangible in the air, but whatever form it was supposed to take wisped by her like steam in the air.
“I should ask you something here.” Were finally the words that fell out of her mouth pensively, her face a bit solemn, but struggling to try to find what was supposed to happen next. “I know not what.” A beat passed by, a hint of vulnerability slipping through. “Help me?” Eyes finally turned on Ari with those two words, a look of someone not quite sure where to go from here, but…. Desperately wanting to get it right.
“Should you?” To hedge seemed the best option available, considering how uncomfortable she had just having Aspel’s confusion and attention trained on her. “Well, you can ask me why I’m being ridiculous, I suppose,” she said slowly. And by the time such a question was asked she might even figure out exactly how to answer it. “But if you don’t, I” may be quite relieved “will certainly not hold it against you.”
There was a pause, Aspel seeming a bit taken back, and then having to consider the question for a moment, as if unsure of her own thoughts on the whole fiasco. “I…” A pause. “I think there is a question.” A beat. “Yes.” Though, the smith couldn’t help but feel unsure of the answer, especially when Ari was so quick to respond, and the insecurity was present in her voice. However, the whole thing caused her to shift a bit uncomfortably. Whatever was going on here it… Was quite queer. Though, the new potential option, about Ari being ridiculous caused Aspel’s brows to furrow with a bit of confusion once again.
“I am uncertain you are being ridiculous.” Wait no, why was she saying that. Was this a trick somehow? Suddenly, Aspel began to regret having quite so much to drink tonight as she had. Surely, if she were sober, this whole mess would be much easier to traverse. However, a pause was taken, considering the potential question and Ari’s… Almost dismissal of it at the same time.
“Well….” There was a drawn out pause, something where her own brain tried to process just what was going on, and failed once again. “Why are you acting so?”
“I’m fairly certain,” Ari muttered. Ridiculous was the least of it.
And asking do you really want to know seemed superfluous, because Aspel thought she wanted to know, anyway, but how did people talk about this with such ease in plays and books and other utterly fictional scenarios? So the best answer Ari could provide in the end was, “I’ve had a fair amount of wine, and I’m very good at talking about almost anything in the world you can think of, but I’m terrible at talking about a few choice things, so then I talk around them in a ridiculous manner, because quite possibly I’d rather not talk about them at all even when I should.”
A pause.
“And, I suppose, I’m in the rare position of actually caring about what someone will think of what I do say, which is unusual for me and makes me quite uncomfortable to contemplate, so then I drink more wine, which makes me even more liable to be ridiculous.” Another pause. “More or less.”
It was a little hard to follow along with the sudden gush of words that came forth from the bard in her somewhat inebriated state. Yet regardless, Aspel did indeed try. However, in the end she merely felt even more confused than she’d already been to start. Pausing she leaned forward, placing her glass of mead down on the table before shifting slightly so that she could more appropriately look at the other woman and attempt to read what was going on in her face.
“My apologies.” A beat. “I pray you can pardon my… Lack of ability this eve, but…” Her brows furrowed as she attempted to put all the pieces together. “Was my question - which you were so kind to suggest - supposed to be regarding your actual path of action taken, or was it to be an inquiry on the driving motivator for your actions?” There was another slow pause. “Or…” The singular word was dragged out on a thoughtful tone. “Are you attempting to mislead me here?”
“The question was open-ended.” Purposely, of course. She hadn’t known just how well she could answer it when she’d suggested it in the first place, and she was trying, which was probably why Aspel’s last words caused a tiny, irritated huff to escape her lips. “And no,” she said, “I am not attempting to mislead you; I am attempting to talk to you, which is going very well, clearly.”
Aspel couldn’t help the - somewhat childish - pout that rose to combine with her confusion, and vague level of dismay. In the moment, she hadn’t the foggiest precisely what was attempting to transpire here, and even though she was trying to understand through an alcohol hazed mind, to participate in whatever was happening, she clearly was failing miserably regardless of said attempts. Why was it that Ari was suddenly so… Displeased with her?
“I have not the faintest what is happening here.” And that, with its frustration, and dismay through defeated features really, was all she could think to say.
“I am not surprised,” Ari said. Because like it or not, she had been clearer with Drake. Her frustration was all at herself in that moment; why couldn’t she just come out with it and be done? But…
“I suppose I meant to say, if you were to continue indulging me… more or less indefinitely, I cannot say I would mind that.” And that sounded terrifyingly too close to home, so she quickly added, “And if not, well I -- I suppose --” would forgive you wasn’t entirely true, now was it? “I suppose that I can say ‘I suppose’ too many times in the span of one minute.” Leaning against Aspel again had the added bonus of keeping her face shaded behind a curtain of conveniently long and loose hair. “It isn’t important,” she said, a bit miserably, and that was a lie, but it was the best she had for the moment. “We can just drink and forget I said anything.”
Aspel only looked more dismayed and defeated, as though she clearly had lost something in a game she didn’t even realize she’d been playing all along with Ari’s confirmation of her own stupidity. “My apologies.” Was all she could manage to mumble out - the faintest bite of tears beginning to be felt for failing to be able to follow along - after a hard swallow. However, crying like an idiot wouldn’t help here, even if she clearly was failing at whatever Ari needed her to be doing now.
Eyes slipped closed, the smith listening as the other woman spoke, and trying - desperately - to figure out precisely what was meant to be found in these words. A hard swallow was followed by a sigh. “I….” A pause was allowed, Aspel trying to gather her thoughts together, trying to dissect each section of the words, and find the problem, or the meaning in them. However, as they ran through her head again…
“Indefinitely?” A beat. “You would not?” The question was twinged with confusion, clearly she was grasping this had something to do with it, but the whole picture was still far from together in her head. “My apologies.” Finally feeling as though the tears were not going to come. “I believe I still am missing the point.”
“It’s because I’m making it poorly.” She would have liked to blame Aspel for misunderstanding, but she had gotten to be more just recently (one of the many, many unexpected side effects of all…. this), and she had to blame herself.
“It is because it is important,” she said with a sigh. “Otherwise, I would simply explain myself properly. Really, no one can be expected to understand me when I’m being so ridiculous.”
Aspel sighed heavily, feeling even more defeated as each second ticked by. “Perhaps I should make some coffee to assist in my sobering up if we are to discuss a serious matter.” Her thoughts had seemed to float away for a moment. “My apologies.” A beat. “I am rather drunk.” And really, her work to not display just how blitzed she’d become was starting to slip as the accent became consistently heavier than it had been before. “Those shots may not have been my brightest idea.” And with those words Aspel shifted to wrap her arms tightly around Ari, even if the smith seemed like she ought to get up and try to sort this out.
“Oh, Faram, shots. If only you had brought me out one.” The words slipped out almost of their own accord.
“Did you wish for one?” The thoughts of coffee, and precisely how drunk she was slipped away as Aspel nuzzled her face against Ari’s shoulder, slightly squeezing the other woman’s body briefly. “I must warn, the stuff is quite strong.” Speaking of, now Aspel was really starting to feel the drink kick in.
“Yes,” Ari said with conviction. “Absolutely yes. The stronger the better.”
“Mm.” With a slightly displeased noise, and a clear hesitation, Aspel unwrapped herself from the bard, placing a kiss on the other woman’s head before - somewhat unsteadily - standing. “It will be but a moment.” And with that, a slow shuffle was made into the kitchen before the smith returned with a bottle labeled in Kerwonian from Aspel’s region and two shot glasses. Placing the glasses down on the table, the bottle was offered to Ari with a mutter of something in her own native tongue before the smith would drop back onto the couch.
Was it cowardly? Absolutely. Did Ari care at the moment about cowardice? Not in the least. Hand still steady (though that would soon be an impossibility, judging from the contents of the bottle), she poured two shots and handed one of them to Aspel. Might as well get completely blitzed in good company.
She’d work out the rest later. Possibly tomorrow, if she could manage daylight. “Cheers,” she said. To whatever substitutes for courage.
“Prost.” Lifting up the shot glass towards Ari was accompanied by the heavily accented Kerwoian agreement to such a notion, and with that Aspel drank. Of course, this wouldn’t last long with the rather high alcohol content of the liquor supplied to them that night and before too long they’d shamble off to bed.
The next morning however, would not be quite so kind as the night before as Aspel groaned at the noise of her alarm. Faram, why did she…. Wait. No. She knew exactly why she’d drank so much, and even with the slight pain in her head, and discomfort in her gut, it instantly made her want to drink more. However, work had to be done, and with Bram gone… Well… There was plenty more of that to go around. With a heavy sigh, a hug given to Ari and a kiss placed against her shoulder Aspel dragged herself out of bed, got ready for work, and after situating herself, sliced up some peaches for Ari to snack on in the morning, prepped the coffee press - but did not set it to brew - snatched up an antidote, a cure potion, a glass of water and a pad of paper.
This would cause her to stop mid-action as eyes rolled over the items in her hands. A glance was spared for the living room table, and a frown crossed her lips. Setting everything down on the coffee table in the living room, she scribbled out a note, this one longer than the standard before collecting up the items once more, carrying them into her bedroom, and arranging them on the stand next to where the bard slept. A kiss was pressed against Ari’s forehead, and with that, Aspel was out the door.
‘My apologies regarding last night. I will be in better form for serious conversation tonight, I promise. Stop by after six and we can speak without my being half blitzed.
I hope your day is well.
- A’
It was some time later that Ari surfaced to -- thank Faram -- an empty and quiet house. It took a few minutes to convince herself to roll, whimpering, out of bed and attempt to put herself together. Familiar motions, fortunately -- she knew Aspel’s apartment nearly as well as her own by now, so she could shamble around like a zombie with eyes nearly closed.
The note and the painkiller were expected by now (there were many indulgences she had grown to count on), and to the tune of coffee brewing, she finally read it and tried very hard not to sigh.
Faram, she couldn’t take another attempt; this time she might actually kill herself with Aspel’s liquor collection. She was just going to have to deal with this in some other way.
Which in the end was how she wound up perched on the couch with the same pad of paper Aspel had no doubt used earlier -- and no doubt the hangover was of some assistance here, for she certainly did not have the energy or desire to write out multiple drafts. It was easier, in a quiet and empty house, to put her thoughts to paper, just a few brief sentences, then tear the sheet from the pad and set it against the coffee press -- and to tell herself that whatever happened, happened. (At least she would be halfway across the city like the coward she was and would not be required to deal with it immediately.)
She cleaned up after herself quickly then, as though something (the words) was hurrying her, or would chase her and keep her tethered here until it was too late to escape. She ensured both kitchen and bathroom were pristine (erasing signs of her presence, perhaps -- just in case) before scampering down the stairs and out into early afternoon sunlight, refusing to look back or think about the sheet of paper she had left behind.
‘I think I’m the one who should apologize.
It’s just that somehow, despite all my efforts to the contrary, I’ve managed to fall in love with you, and I still don’t know what I’m supposed to do about it.
I’ve got a prior engagement tonight, but if you still want to talk, let me know.’