Ser Nerys Ronain, Knight of Redcliffe (ronain) wrote in thedas, @ 2010-02-19 09:58:00 |
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"You're mad." "I know." "You're also an idiot." "I've been called worse." "Doesn't make it any less true, does it?" asked Nerys from where she was leaning against the wooden door frame between the barracks and the kennels. Inside the other room, Cafall was busy consuming his dinner. It was not something she enjoyed watching, as the dog always seemed to swallow every meal ravenously like she had never fed him before. But showing a Mabari proper dining etiquette wasn't part of her training lessons. Besides, this conversation was just slightly more important. The older knight paused in the middle of his packing to consider her question. "No, I suppose not," Russil shrugged, and continued shoving the pair of thick woolen socks into the bottom of his bag. Once that was done, he looked up at her with amusement, "You're terrible at goodbyes." "Yeah, well..." Nerys began, uncertain of where she was going with this. She couldn't refute his theory -- perhaps her problem stemmed from her childhood, as she had rarely ever had a chance to say a proper farewell to anyone important in her life. But that was a line of introspection that she didn't want to bother with. She straightened up and came a little closer to him, but kept her arms folded across her chest. A defensive pose. She didn't look at Russil as she perched on the edge of the bed next to his to make what sounded like a confession, "Not to get all...sentimental on you, but I'd rather not consider this to be...you know..." "The end of an era?" he grinned. She rolled her eyes. "Now that's just stupid." "And melodramatic," added Russil in an absurdly cheerful tone, sufficiently distracted enough to sit down opposite her. Nerys wanted to punch that stupid smirk off his face. He was deriving too much pleasure from making her feel awkward about trying to be sincere, for once. If there was any time to stop bantering and be serious, this was it. But he refused to participate. She was almost glad for it, but hated the idea of letting him get away without first coming to an understanding. There was a long pause, and it seemed for a moment that she was ready to drop the subject as she rose and paced back to the doorway. She wasn't facing him, but she could just feel his steady stare on her back. The woman let out a frustrated sigh, "Flann, don't make me embarrass myself. You know what I mean to say." "That you'll miss me terribly?" Russil answered flippantly, not skipping a beat. There was another pause, and before she could whirl around and hit him in the shoulder like he expected her to do, he finally gave in. "Ronain, I know what I'm getting into. We both do." The shift in his tone surprised her enough to force her to turn around from watching the hounds. Their eyes met, but only briefly, as he glanced away to study the grooves in the worn stonework floor. What he had to say was personal, and yet he still sounded more detached from the words than he did when he was joking. "They say some people don't come back from this-- Jory didn't, I remember that. And even if I do become a Grey Warden...who's to say I won't face death by darkspawn, anyway? Here or there." He looked up at her, finally, the glint in his eyes both haunted and determined at the same time. It was almost unsettling, but this is what she had come for. A bit of honesty, which was more reassuring than his usual nonchalance, as if what he was about to do was no big deal. "You made it through last time," she replied quietly, sounding almost sullen as she put her back to the wall. "And that's why they need me," he said with confidence, as he stood up and closed the gap between them. Russil looked for a moment like he wanted to put his hands on her shoulders, but stopped and mimicked her pose by crossing his own arms. "Don't be a child about this." The mild insult only made one corner of her mouth tug upwards. Nerys arched an even brow at him, "Speaking of age, aren't you a little...old? Not that I'm an expert on what makes a Warden, but Bevin was practically half your age when he went through it." Perhaps that was an exaggeration, but not by much -- the arl's young brother-in-law was closer to her own age than Russil's, as he was at least an entire decade her senior, though there were moments when he neither looked it and rarely ever acted it when they were off-duty. "It's still worth trying, though, isn't it? I have always been willing to do whatever it takes to protect this land," Russil replied in earnest, drawing closer and placing a gentle hand on her arm. Nerys felt bad for two reasons -- first for doubting his intent, and second for selfishly and foolishly wishing that his mind hadn't been made up already. He was a good man. But even if she knew what another Blight meant, it was still difficult to accept that he was just going to leave in a few hours, and possibly never be seen again. It wouldn't have been any easier to see one of the other knights go, nor did she really harbor any expectation that this conversation would change anything, but she was tired of feeling abandoned. This wasn't how it was supposed to go; they were supposed to die either old and at peace with the world, or together in the midst of a heated battle and a blaze of glory. She bit her lower lip, turning her head away, "I know that. I just... Maybe I should have--" "No. Not you," he said with sudden firmness. Nerys glanced back at Russil, surprised that he would be so protective. It was hard to tell if it was because he was too proud to give up the honor of joining the Order, or if he was concerned about her safety if she'd gone in his stead. Maybe it was both. He wouldn't have answered even if she asked, though. When she looked at him directly, that wall of humor was built up between them again. "Who else is going to raise an entire army of Mabari to defend the village, putting the town's militia out of work and to shame?" She didn't laugh. He raised his other hand to lightly lift her chin so she would look up at him. His voice dropped to barely above a whisper, "Nerys...if this doesn't work out, I'm expendable." Neither of them looked away for that long, intimate moment, a silent understanding developing in the absence of further words. He was resigned to his fate, and she had to accept it. Russil broke away first, dropping his and resuming his previous rakish grin, "If it does, you can say you knew me back when I was just some knight from Redcliffe. And I had a big ego even then." Nerys couldn't help but smile back this time, shaking her head at him, "Cheeky bastard." "That, too. Anything else to add?" Impulsively, the younger knight threw her arms around his broad torso and drew him into a hug, giving a brief squeeze as she whispered, "Come back alive." She pulled back quickly, hoping that no one else would suddenly walk into the room and bear witness to this uncharacteristically emotional display. Nerys didn't exactly have a reputation with the troops for being soft-hearted and didn't want it, either. "I'll try," Russil said, and without any warning, pressed her up against himself and kissed her roughly. He was met with no resistance as it happened, and it wasn't just because she was too stunned to react. The scruff on his chin brushed hard against her face as he let go of her and gave a hearty laugh. She winced at the sensation, knowing full well that the irritation was deliberate, and punched him in the shoulder. She didn't spare him the full brunt of her strength, though judging by the fact that she, too, was smiling, it was still a playful gesture. "Agh, you big jerk!" she half-laughed, half-shouted at him, raising a hand to rub at the now itchy patch along her jaw. "Ouch..." he pouted at her as he retreated back toward his belongings, and though she did have a very strong left hook, he wasn't nearly as injured as he was pretending to be. They'd both faced worse blows. And this had been worth it. Russil couldn't stop himself from smirking again, "Just wanted to do that once before I lost my chance. While I was sober, at least." Though it was evident that she was still somewhat amused herself, Nerys glared at him, "Didn't I say we weren't talking about that ever again?" "Uh huh. Still have no regrets," he replied as he pretended to look away wistfully. "Now I'm almost glad you'll be gone. No more walking, talking reminders of my past indiscretions," she snorted, holding back the urge to punch him again, maybe in the other shoulder to balance it out. She lingered by the door; by now, Cafall had probably finished his meal and was waiting for her to go on their evening run, and there was really little else left to say. This was it, then. He'd be gone by the time she got back to the castle. Nerys straightened up proudly, and saluted him, "Goodbye, Ser Russil Flann." |