[ She's not sure how late it really is when she shows up at his doorstep, pillow under her arm, forehead wrinkled just a little– as if troubled by something and trying her best to hide it with an unaffected frown. Zero has never been good at marking the passage of time, but even more so here when she is so purposeless. ]
Good, you're awake.
[ She says, ignoring the fact that she might have woken him up. She slips past him and into his room with a confident sort of familiarity. ]
Not here for the usual business I'm afraid.
[ Her gaze drifts around the room, she takes her time in looking at him. ]
[he's in his bed, dozing in the twilight sleep between true sleep and awakening when she comes in. the sound means he has to process Zero in his room, with her pillow - but the atmosphere is different, that he can tell immediately. if she's come to him because she can't sleep, something is very off. his room is still fit for a single person, bed and blankets and everything else, and the tree that grows through his room is thriving - clearly, he's been in no rush to take that out.
but he sits up, moving over in his bed to make room for her. it's warm and it's comfortable, and that's a plus to just standing there.]
Too much on your mind?
[thankfully, he knows a number of ways to cure a sleepless night.]
[ There's little point in playing coy, even for fun (because of the situation and because she's just so bad at it). She clambers gracelessly onto the bed, getting comfortable in the space he's made for her. ]
Nah, I never think about anything ever. Like to think that adds to my charm– sometimes you just can't sleep.
[ She fixes her gaze on the stupid tree growing in the middle of the room, all while fixing the pillow behind her so she can settle back against it. ]
The real question here is– what're you gonna' do about it?
[well, she had said not the usual business, so that way of burning off energy's out, and she's settled in here, in which case it's up to coax her mind to rest. and the best way for that is:]
[ 'Does it matter'? She wants to say– all love stories are idealized fiction. The nature of an ending matters little when all of it is derived from things that aren't real and spun together to create something that is even more fanciful and even less real.
But that wouldn't be any fun, and it definitely wouldn't help her insomnia. ]
[he settles back into pillows and begins to speak. once in a land long ago, he begins, and continues on, weaving a story full of detail and life.
he speaks of a boy who would become a knight, the fair unknown who nonetheless proved himself through tireless work. how he journeyed forth to save a princess from a wicked enchanter, and how his nobility carried him even further. how he saved the Maid of the White Hands from her unwanted suitors, and their love, which he put on hold for duty, to save the princess in the end though they truly did hold affection. how his knightly bearing and kind heart endeared him to the princess as well, and yet he still returned to the maid, to apologize for leaving her.
in the end, he says, the maid gave up her love for his happiness, that he might win the princess and a tournament in which all could not deny his status as a knight. and he loved his princess, and she him, and they married and were faithful all their days. and so the tale he spins comes to a comfortable ending, where love still blooms and exists.
he lets the last sentence fall into silence, and smiles to himself, taking a deep breath to signify it was over.]
[ Zero says nothing during his story; she would have perhaps, were she in any other sort of mood. She says nothing after either, not immediately. She rolls onto her back and frowns up at the ceiling. And then she scowls, rolling back onto her side again so she can direct her frown at him. ]
Honestly? If I ever met this guy I'd deck him and mug him.
[ She's not actually angry, but she wrinkles her nose, vaguely annoyed. ]
Everyone was nice, everyone was selfless– and everyone put others before themselves and no one was jealous. I've never heard one of these..things–
Who says there wasn't jealousy? That there wasn't pain?
[he reaches out, to idly stroke a lock of her hair.]
There was ugliness, there was pain. There was death, and there were choices. He held to his honor - that does not mean that it was perfect. Knights fail all the time. It's why those who are virtuous are celebrated.
[but in this story, at least, virtue won. there would be happiness, for someone.]
Just because the maid knew she had to let him go doesn't mean she was overjoyed. But she wanted to see him happy, all the same.
[ She doesn't stir when he brushes back her hair, but its clear on her face that there's a questioning forming somewhere in her mind. ]
Hey–
[ She reaches over, moves as if she might mirror him and stroke his hair in the same gentle way he'd done her's. Instead however, she tugs on a lock– hard enough for it to sting, just a bit. ]
– how the hell do you understand other people's feelings so well when you always talk like you're not even walking on the same fucking ground as the rest of us.
[wow, Zero. he takes it in stride with just a wince, though.]
Because I'm smart, and all my stories are about other people, and I've had a long time to learn about people in general. It's just something I can figure out.
[not because he has empathy on that level. not even sympathy. but observation over years and years and information flooding his system. it's like making a prophecy - simply stating what all the signs harmoniously agree on. feelings are a murky place to stand in for any real length of time, and so he hopes that'll be enough of an answer for her.]
[ I cannot describe the look she gives him with anything else:
]
You're so full of it! But fine, fine– won't dig into your deep, dark, mysterious past. I figure it's the only thing you have going for you, and I sure as hell am not going to be the monster who ruins that.
[ She lets go, but her hand still hovers near his face. She pats his cheek consolingly before pulling away again– though she does scoot a bit closer, voice quieter as a distant drowsiness sets in. ]
So? If all your stories are about other people.. and you say you've had time to learn about 'em.. does that mean that one was based off someone whose brain you actually got to pick?
[he has his looks, and his intelligence, and his mastery of magic, just to name three other things, Zero! but he'll let it go, shaking his head slightly as she settles down. his past is his own - nothing to pick over. not as interesting as other stories.]
Gingalain? Yes. He was the son of one of the knights in the court I served at. Though he didn't know it when he arrived, it came out after his engagement.
[he remembers. and he remembers teasing Gawain about his lack of fatherhood, and how there was always that barrier. even children came second when it came to the country and king.]
Come now, you can't think I'd do that to you. I'd at least make your story more grand of a tale than a bedtime story, if I was going to tell it.
[and it's hardly dirty laundry if he's just recounting what the poets and bards would set down. he's guilty of no worse crime than passing along their words.]
Besides, he's long, long dead. Him and his happy ending.
[ It's always hard to tell with him– just how much is bluster and how much is him actually attempting to be kind. She puts more faith in the former because it's safer. ]
I mean, I don't think I've told you all that much. For all you know my story might be shit. Might not even be worth boring some brat to sleep with.
[he shifts, and looks at her carefully, directly where she lies- as though there's a number of things he sees in her, like he's looking at the eye underneath the flower too and not just the visible one.]
I think your story is something not even I could dream into existence.
[and then, he relaxes, moving to instead gather his hair over one shoulder. the look was gone as swiftly as it came.]
But I know already it's not something for children's ears. Might send them running back to their parents.
[ She catches the look, though she has no idea what it may possibly mean. Which may be just as much the same as not seeing it at all. ]
What a cop out!
[ The words ride on the tailend of a yawn, and Zero reaches over to tug on his hair again. ]
Knowing you you've probably put some shit together already, anyway. Don't understand half the shit you say, but I already know– you're the kind of asshole who puts all the pieces together without ever even touching them.
[ She pulls back again, eyes closing as she gets comfortable against the pillows. ]
[he says it freely, as easily as he says the rest, but what Zero's eyes won't catch as they close is the minute change in his expression. he knows. he knows he's the worst kind of person. he knows he always will be.
instead, he moves his hair so it won't get in the way while they sleep, and settles down next to her.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
post-caves
Good, you're awake.
[ She says, ignoring the fact that she might have woken him up. She slips past him and into his room with a confident sort of familiarity. ]
Not here for the usual business I'm afraid.
[ Her gaze drifts around the room, she takes her time in looking at him. ]
I can't sleep.
no subject
but he sits up, moving over in his bed to make room for her. it's warm and it's comfortable, and that's a plus to just standing there.]
Too much on your mind?
[thankfully, he knows a number of ways to cure a sleepless night.]
no subject
[ There's little point in playing coy, even for fun (because of the situation and because she's just so bad at it). She clambers gracelessly onto the bed, getting comfortable in the space he's made for her. ]
Nah, I never think about anything ever. Like to think that adds to my charm– sometimes you just can't sleep.
[ She fixes her gaze on the stupid tree growing in the middle of the room, all while fixing the pillow behind her so she can settle back against it. ]
The real question here is– what're you gonna' do about it?
no subject
I could tell you a bedtime story.
[does he have to say it like that]
no subject
Huh, that's actually a not shitty idea. Hope you were being serious, cause now I want one.
[ She shifts again, this time so she can turn to face him– resting her elbow on the pillow and prop her head against her palm. ]
Tell me a love story, just for fun. Just cause it'd be funny as fuck coming from you.
no subject
Do you want a happy ending, or a tragedy?
[he knows both. and he usually doesn't offer, he just talks, but tonight....tonight she can pick. whichever would make her more delighted.]
no subject
But that wouldn't be any fun, and it definitely wouldn't help her insomnia. ]
Happy– wouldn't want to upset your house tree.
no subject
[he settles back into pillows and begins to speak. once in a land long ago, he begins, and continues on, weaving a story full of detail and life.
he speaks of a boy who would become a knight, the fair unknown who nonetheless proved himself through tireless work. how he journeyed forth to save a princess from a wicked enchanter, and how his nobility carried him even further. how he saved the Maid of the White Hands from her unwanted suitors, and their love, which he put on hold for duty, to save the princess in the end though they truly did hold affection. how his knightly bearing and kind heart endeared him to the princess as well, and yet he still returned to the maid, to apologize for leaving her.
in the end, he says, the maid gave up her love for his happiness, that he might win the princess and a tournament in which all could not deny his status as a knight. and he loved his princess, and she him, and they married and were faithful all their days. and so the tale he spins comes to a comfortable ending, where love still blooms and exists.
he lets the last sentence fall into silence, and smiles to himself, taking a deep breath to signify it was over.]
no subject
Honestly? If I ever met this guy I'd deck him and mug him.
[ She's not actually angry, but she wrinkles her nose, vaguely annoyed. ]
Everyone was nice, everyone was selfless– and everyone put others before themselves and no one was jealous. I've never heard one of these..things–
[ love stories, she means. ]
– that wasn't some larger than life tall tale.
no subject
[he reaches out, to idly stroke a lock of her hair.]
There was ugliness, there was pain. There was death, and there were choices. He held to his honor - that does not mean that it was perfect. Knights fail all the time. It's why those who are virtuous are celebrated.
[but in this story, at least, virtue won. there would be happiness, for someone.]
Just because the maid knew she had to let him go doesn't mean she was overjoyed. But she wanted to see him happy, all the same.
no subject
Hey–
[ She reaches over, moves as if she might mirror him and stroke his hair in the same gentle way he'd done her's. Instead however, she tugs on a lock– hard enough for it to sting, just a bit. ]
– how the hell do you understand other people's feelings so well when you always talk like you're not even walking on the same fucking ground as the rest of us.
no subject
Because I'm smart, and all my stories are about other people, and I've had a long time to learn about people in general. It's just something I can figure out.
[not because he has empathy on that level. not even sympathy. but observation over years and years and information flooding his system. it's like making a prophecy - simply stating what all the signs harmoniously agree on. feelings are a murky place to stand in for any real length of time, and so he hopes that'll be enough of an answer for her.]
no subject
You're so full of it! But fine, fine– won't dig into your deep, dark, mysterious past. I figure it's the only thing you have going for you, and I sure as hell am not going to be the monster who ruins that.
[ She lets go, but her hand still hovers near his face. She pats his cheek consolingly before pulling away again– though she does scoot a bit closer, voice quieter as a distant drowsiness sets in. ]
So? If all your stories are about other people.. and you say you've had time to learn about 'em.. does that mean that one was based off someone whose brain you actually got to pick?
[ Are they people he knows, is what she means. ]
no subject
Gingalain? Yes. He was the son of one of the knights in the court I served at. Though he didn't know it when he arrived, it came out after his engagement.
[he remembers. and he remembers teasing Gawain about his lack of fatherhood, and how there was always that barrier. even children came second when it came to the country and king.]
no subject
[ There's no bite behind her words and truthfully she's not surprised either. ]
Guess I should be careful what I tell you. Might end up as someone else's bedtime story.
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[and it's hardly dirty laundry if he's just recounting what the poets and bards would set down. he's guilty of no worse crime than passing along their words.]
Besides, he's long, long dead. Him and his happy ending.
no subject
[ It's always hard to tell with him– just how much is bluster and how much is him actually attempting to be kind. She puts more faith in the former because it's safer. ]
I mean, I don't think I've told you all that much. For all you know my story might be shit. Might not even be worth boring some brat to sleep with.
no subject
I think your story is something not even I could dream into existence.
[and then, he relaxes, moving to instead gather his hair over one shoulder. the look was gone as swiftly as it came.]
But I know already it's not something for children's ears. Might send them running back to their parents.
no subject
What a cop out!
[ The words ride on the tailend of a yawn, and Zero reaches over to tug on his hair again. ]
Knowing you you've probably put some shit together already, anyway. Don't understand half the shit you say, but I already know– you're the kind of asshole who puts all the pieces together without ever even touching them.
[ She pulls back again, eyes closing as she gets comfortable against the pillows. ]
The worst kind of person, if you ask me.
no subject
[he says it freely, as easily as he says the rest, but what Zero's eyes won't catch as they close is the minute change in his expression. he knows. he knows he's the worst kind of person. he knows he always will be.
instead, he moves his hair so it won't get in the way while they sleep, and settles down next to her.]
Sweet dreams, Zero.