[There is a pause. It would be convenient to have him meet her where she is now--then, if he does not like his Satinalia gift, no one else will have to know.]
Brilliant. Well, wait there, all right? I'm on my way and all.
[And he is, a few moments later. More minutes, really; six flights is a load of stairs, even for someone with natural energy to spare, and the magic of Satinalia lightening his footsteps.
He knocks, first. Shifts his weight, foot to foot, staring at the door, with his arms loaded down. The box with the pie he's holding by the string that keeps it close, tied about it in a neat package--as neat as he could manage, after untying it to see what it was and then retying it to secure it up again. He keeps looking at it, as if it have come untied, or otherwise disappeared.]
[And Laura is looking critically at the gift sitting beside her on her bed--there is little else to do, now that she knows he's coming, except wonder if she has made an acceptable purchase for the holiday. It is a task that has never been required of her before now.
Matthias is a sound in the hallway before he is a knock at the door; by the time he does rap his knuckles against the wood, she is already standing on the other side, poised to swing the door wide. So she does, brightening at the sight of him. Not quite a smile, perhaps, but not at all unhappy to see him.]
Come in.
[The room is almost entirely bare: a bed with a small package wrapped in green wool and the book she'd been reading before he contacted her. A small chest for clothing with a single necklace lying on top of it. (The locked box that holds her remaining money is hidden away.) And since there is nowhere to sit, she returns to her neatly made bed and sits at the edge of it.]
[Matthias does as he's told, and goes into the room--and once he's within, tries his best not to stare at his surroundings. S'only a room, is what he tells himself. But 's Laura's room, isn't it, himself argues back. So there's loads of details to pick up on. No--is that creepy? Maybe a bit. What would someone make of his spare little bed in the dormitory? Wouldn't want someone to judge him on that. Ought he to move elsewhere, like? Get his own room? What would he do with all that space?
What's Laura do with all that space? But then she deserves it, doesn't she. Because, you know. Is that stupid of him to think? A bit. She doesn't deserve pity. And he doesn't pity her, of course.
Oh, bugger, he realizes then, midway through these thoughts. There's only the bed to sit on. Well, that's all right. Plenty of people sit beside one another on beds. Matthias has spent loads of time sitting on beds (when they were around) and bedrolls and cots, casually taking up space with the other mages. Even done that easy all-pile-on thing, where your limbs get comfortably tangled up with other limbs and it's just cozy, like. And even with Laura, it's not supremely weird. She's his friend. 'Course, he did spend time sitting in silence on top of a wall, holding her hand and looking out at the water. And she held his hand a bit before that as well. And they did kiss, that one time, but that was for the game, and she did run away straight after--which is to say this is complicated, and he definitely fancies her, so.
Well. After all of that, Matthias follows her, and sits on the bed beside her. Puts the box with the Mhavos Pie-lat between, and the two packages he's got carried in his arm beside that. They're both wrapped in paper, clumsily refastened with string that he'd untied after he'd gotten back to the Gallows, just to check and be sure that he'd gotten what he paid for, that the gifts were real, that--Maker, please--Laura would probably like them.
He grins at her, quick, a little nervous. There's a pink in his ears already. Bu-ggg-ger.]
You didn't have to get me anything. Not that I'm complaining. I love gifts. Er--who goes first? Do we do it by age? Or d'you want to Rock-Paper-Shears, or we could both go at once, or-- [SHUT UP MATTHIAS] --maybe the Mhavmouse thinger first. It is fairly brilliant, whoever that is.
Edited (sorry got picky w words) 2019-11-05 23:26 (UTC)
[At this point, Laura does little with all that space besides exist in it. She has considered, in very general terms, the possibility of purchasing additional furnishings for the room, but she only knows what belongs in the bedrooms rented at inns, not in real homes--and she would prefer not to pattern her room off the rented sort. And if she had to leave Kirkwall, as still seems probable, she would have to leave it all behind.
At this moment, she exists in the empty room with him, which feels right and--for her, at least--not awkward. It seems self-evident that they are not going to have sex or fall asleep, which makes the bed irrelevant as a bed. It is essentially a sofa.
He smiles at her, and she feels her lips curve up, too, just slightly. (It does not always feel like it's her smiling; she does not feel like a person who smiles. But around Matthias, she is. Somewhat.) She is about to suggest that he open his gift first, so she will know sooner if he dislikes it, when she finally recognizes what he's trying to say.]
This is from Mhavos. [Reaching for the little card on the box, she examines it, her brows knitting.] He gave you a gift to give to me?
[Just the normal patter of conversation helps. Matthias knows what to do with talking, and that's: talk. This isn't so weird. It's only Laura, who he likes as well as fancies, so if he's carrying around a load of stupid feelings that's all well and good but that doesn't stop them from being friends.
Anyways: Mhavos. Whoever that is. The name sounds familiar when she says it--a voice on the crystals, Orlesian, seems like. Matthias pulls around the pie package and starts picking at the knot.]
It was a thing, I think. I dunno if you signed up. That Bastien was going about, saying d'you want to surprise someone for Satinalia, and be surprised, and I did, so I gave him my name. I was thinking that's got to be what this is for. Only then I was thinking, maybe he meant to give it to you, actually, and then I was the, wossit, courier, like. But I dunno what's that have to do with Satinalia, so--
[He pulls a little face and picks harder at the knot.]
[Realizing she knows both Mhavos and Matthias, but they do not, is strange. It is not surprising, exactly, when she stops to consider just how many people there are in Riftwatch--but it feels odd to know that she has befriended people who are strangers to each other.
(When she stops to think about it, having friends at all is, in itself, strange.)
Regardless, she reaches out with a claw and slices the strings, hoping to save Matthias the effort of figuring out the knot. (She's also, perhaps, curious about the scent of sugar and citrus permeating the room. Whatever Mhavos has given him, it is with an eye toward Laura's tastes.)]
I had to give a gift to Captain Flint. [Somewhat nerve-wracking. And, somewhat uncertainly:] Perhaps Mhavos did not understand the rules.
[Specifically, that Matthias should have his own gift, even if, upon opening the box, Laura has no complaints regarding the possibility of having a taste of the contents.]
[He looks up at her with a sheepish grin once she's cut that string so easily for him.]
Thanks. I don't forget that you've got those, just doesn't come up as my first thought. Anyway, maybe it's an Orlesian thing, right? He's Orlesian, if his is the voice I'm thinking of from the crystals. I reckon they've loads of really weird Satinalia traditions. Gifts by proxy'd be like them.
Oh, hang on--here--
[That accompanies him lifting the lid from the box, and there it is: the pie. Even to Matthias with his normal humany nose, he picks up on that heavy scent of sweet sugar and orange. As proud as if he'd baked this pie himself, he grins at Laura again.]
[Perhaps it isn't, and Matthias' thoughts have gone to a different Orlesian who talks over the crystals--but Laura is willing to believe he's imagining the right one.
And, she decides, looking down at the pie, one it's revealed, she can give Matthias one of the grapefruits Mhavos gave to her. In that way, he will have delivered gifts by proxy to both of them.
At this moment, the pie smells impossibly good, something she did not know she could want until it sits between them. It is terribly inviting, and she could easily slice it for both of them--Matthias has not, historically, been disgusted by the way she uses her claws with food. But--]
We should eat it last. [It will last longer; the smell will be there around them, and they will have the only Satinalia that counts. She reaches blindly next to her for his present, not entirely certain she is ready for his reaction to it--but if he does not like it, then it will be over quicker. They will still have pie, and she will try not to be disappointed, if he does not like it.] You must open your gift.
[Specifically, a book of Nevarran fairy tales translated into Trade, a woolly forest-green scarf wrapped around it in place of paper. The only story in it that matters is called "The Bone and Velvet Boy," and it is not marked out in any way; it simply exists, among other stories that Laura found diverting, if not so meaningful.]
[Agreeably, Matthias nods. Eating the pie last sounds like a good plan. He's not usually good at self-control, especially when food is involved, but for Laura, he'll manage.
And anyways, he's got a gift to distract him. With a grin, he shifts so he's pulled one of his legs up on the bed, and he's sort of facing Laura. He holds his hands out to accept the present, and pauses first to marvel over the softness of the scarf. But there's something it's wrapped around, he can feel it, and he untwists the scarf and lets it fall into his lap so he can turn the book about and read its spine once he's got it unwrapped.]
Nevarran Fa-- hey, brilliant. D'you like these?
[Although he is sixteen years of age. Ought he to say that? No, because she'd given him the book for a reason. It must be because she likes it, and so she wants to give it to him as a gift. So it's meaningful, like. Matthias flips the book about so he can start to page through it, admiring the words contained within.]
I don't actually own any books, y'know. This is my first one.
[While he's looking at the scarf, she moves the pie over to the center of the bed, so they can both sit turned toward each other--she's intent on his hands, and then his face, as he lets the scarf fall away from the book and looks it over.]
Yes.
[It has not occurred to her that fairy tales might be childish. She has spoken of them with Mhavos, and with Ellis, which surely means they are simply something everyone reads.]
I do not have any books, either. But I have read this one.
[At the Gallows library, and--once, part of it--many years before. Left unsaid is a comment on its quality, but that, she is hoping, Matthias will understand without further prompting. If asked, Laura is unsure she'd be able to explain the gift, even if she wished to.]
[--Again, full of appreciation. You'd think that was the only word he knows. The pages are crisp and nice and the smell of the book is good--new, something of parchment and binding and ink. These are aesthetic things that Matthias can appreciate. Deeper than that: he can appreciate that this book means something to Laura, and so it can now mean something to him as well.
He shuts it with a snap and turns his smile back at her.]
Now I can read it as well and then we'll be matched in that. Scarf's good as well.
[In case she was wondering. Matthias picks it up and loops it about his neck, loosely. As he's doing so, he orders her:]
Open up yours now!
[The larger of the two is a blanket. A nice blanket: terribly soft wool dyed in a plaidweave pattern, reds and yellows and oranges and burnt bright browns. It looks like fire. That's why Matthias bought it. The smaller package is better. Or he thinks it's better, at least. Maybe it's dumb. Unwrapped, it will fall lightly into Laura's lap: a carving of a cat, painted silver, a silver so shiny it makes the creature look cut from metal. Or lyrium. It has two green eyes, tiny stones that wink in the light when you turn it back and forth--and the tail is curled neatly around the paws--and the little hunch a cat's shoulders make, that notch between the shoulder-blades, that's there as well, barely larger than the tip of your little finger.
He leans over to look at it, when she gets it free of the package.]
Dunno why, but it made me think of you a bit. 'Cause cats have claws, I s'ppose. First obvious thought, that. But otherwise, as well, cats're otherwise like you as well. That--balance and quiet and cleverness. Did you ever play that game, when you were a kid? What animal would you be, and you say why. If I was playing for you, I'd pick cat. I like cats.
[Laura opens the blanket first, curious what the paper might hold--something soft, some kind of fabric, but what--and spends near to a minute silently inspecting it. The warmth of the wool is clear just from handling it, as is its softness, but what fascinates her is the way the colours cross over and over each other. She's seen plaideweave before, from a distance, but she has never owned any herself.
(She has never owned a blanket before, either, beyond what came with this room. If Kirkwall becomes as cold as Nevarra sometimes did, she suspects she will be all the more grateful for Matthias' gift.)
Because he put on the scarf, and she'd liked that, she drapes the blanket around her shoulders before she opens the smaller gift. It, too, receives consideration, Laura running her thumb carefully along the cat's back. It is smooth, and it shines, and the fact that its eyes are green is satisfying on a level she can't entirely explain to herself.]
I have never played that game.
[It is notable to realize he saw a cat in her--Derrica had, too, and so had some anonymous stranger. Laura will have to consider this in greater depth later. For now, she sets the cat on the little table beside her bed, so it can watch them both without getting lost in the shuffle, and she turns her attention back more fully to Matthias.
They have opened their gifts, and that means they should now taste Mhavos' pie. But the idea of saying thank you and moving on is dissatisfying, and Laura is not sure why. For a moment or two, she puzzles over it, staring at him intently, as though she's on the verge of speaking. It is because she does not think thank you accurately conveys what she feels at that moment. Because the desire to hear things stated has started to outweigh the desire not to feel uncertainty. Because it is Matthias, and he is kind, and she wants to hold his hand again.]
How do you feel about me?
[Those are the words Derrica used when she said Laura should ask. If it goes badly, she will at least know that she asked it correctly.]
[We should play, would be Matthias' next suggestion, only--
He's finished winding the scarf about himself, but he reaches compulsively to tug at one of the ends, just for something to do with at least one of his hands. And to his credit, he only drops his gaze for a moment. Gives himself some space. The edge of the blanket is there, the rest of it gathered around Laura's shoulders. The trim is fringed. Perfect for fidgeting with.]
Well--I like you.
[There. He said it. He looks up at Laura quickly, to give that statement extra credence and weight.]
I do. Like--we're friends, and all, but you're also-- [Bravely, Matthias loosens his hand from its grip on the scarf, and gives it a wave, a gesture that tries to get at what he might mean.] --brilliant. I-- fancy you, I s'ppose. A little. Or, [his ears are red, he can feel it, heat like a fever that spreads down into his face, and his neck,] a lot. If that's-- all right.
[Shit. Quickly, then, before she can say anything--] I don't want it to be weird. I mean, no matter what else, I'm, y'know, your friend, and all. And I want to keep being your friend. So it's not like it has to go anywhere, what I just said, or even--like, if I wait, it'll not be as bad. Or it will go away. A bit. Or entirely. Or--if it's better, you could just forget I said it at all.
[Laura watches and waits, and she wonders if the short silence after she asks means that he is looking for a way to say I know what you're asking, and the answer is no. Something is grating against itself inside her ribcage, broken stones grinding together in a place where things aren't supposed to be made of stone. It is the feeling that the world might be too much to tolerate, that she would be better off in this room alone, claws out. And part of it lasts, even past I like you, but for the moment, it is survivable.
She knows what all this is, friendship and fancying--she's picked this sense of the word up from listening to others speak, that is a crush--and more than that, she knows what Matthias' flushed throat means. He smells truthful, in a way she can't begin to explain and might not be more than magical thinking; she wants to believe him, and the wool and soap and sweat of him is something that already means earnest, kind, safe, gentle. It is true because it comes from him.
There is something rising inside her, threatening to burst free of the flesh holding it inside her. Her brow knits.]
I do not want to forget.
[This means, she thinks, that she can reach for his hand again.
No--it means something more than that. Laura scoots closer, lifting the edge of the blanket so it can be brought around his shoulders as well. It is too much, knowing this, but it is bearable. Even trying to respond feels like too much--but survivably so. He already said it. She is only agreeing.]
That is how I feel, too.
[Now, she thinks, and slides her fingers in between his, her gaze falling down to his hand.]
[It's a good job that Laura says something, because Matthias just would have kept talking, dribbling words on and on and on to the point of nausea. And while he can't always be shut up by someone talking, Laura is important--and she says so few words besides, so he's clumsily learning to give space to what words she does say, so he can better hear and keep them.
Doesn't mean he gets it straight from the off. Takes a moment for the words to sink in, oh, good, she doesn't want to forget--tempered with a lingering but if she does, he can make space for that as well, if she should change her mind--but then she's put her blanket over his shoulders, making a kind of tent around them, keeping them in safe and warm and together, and--
Oh. Warmth flushes through Matthias in with the red in his face. Laura's fingers, twined between his, has this answering coolness. Matthias looks down, and then up, just as quickly, and a grin is starting to spread across his face.]
Oh. [He says it aloud. Stupid.] Well, that's-- that's brilliant, then. We're the same in it. We're--
[Shit. His shoulders hunch a little, under the shared blanket; he's grinning like a moron. He grips back at her fingers.]
Good. Er. I'd hoped, I mean, not that I was-- well, I've thought about you, 'course I have, that's not what I mean. Just. Not to a creepy degree. And I'd hoped that you--felt the same. 'Course. But it's... I'm glad to hear it. [Shut up, Matthias. He laughs, at himself.] More'n glad, really. Right pleased and then some. So, great. Yeah. Happy Satinalia to us.
[Sometimes, she's struck with wonder at how easily Matthias talks. He feels things, and they come out of his mouth without a second thought. Even if he is embarrassed--maybe?--at some of them, he says what he feels and does not take any of it back. She cannot fathom doing the same, admitting when I am close to falling asleep, I think of you and the shadows in my room seem less empty. Not in words, at least. He just says it.
But at that moment, she is unsure she can endure many more stumbling attempts at...whatever Matthias is trying to convey. (Happiness, and surprise, and more happiness, all of it matching a sort of relief in her. She wants to be here next to him and also to be alone, all at once--but she wants the former more than the latter.) Words seem like an ineffectual tool for their purposes.
So she leans over and kisses him. Not like their first kiss: this is is light, soft, without a mission to determine the length it lasts. As such, it does not last nearly as long--but she likes it better. When she pulls away again, she is as serious as always, but her voice is gentle.]
[There's a little tingly feeling made by her mouth pressed against his. Certainly it shuts him up, again. And when she's sat back again, the tingle lasts, this light touch that lingers, and stays. Matthias puts the fingertips of his free hand against his mouth, in the wake of that kiss, and manages a dazed--]
Yeah.
[Yeah. They ought to. It's right there, and now that he's thinking of it, the smell of it rises again, citrus and sweet, but--]
Can I, er, kiss you again, first? Just--quick. Once more. That's all, for now. And then pie, definitely.
[The answer is yes, and she feels reasonably certain of it--but the fact that he asks gives her a moment's pause. That is new, and it is satisfactory, something that has only ever come from Matthias. She looks at him a moment longer, wanting to keep the memory of it to unravel in private later: that bubbling hope in his eyes, the way he'd touched his mouth to ensure it was still there.]
I would like that.
[Wanting to kiss her is different from wanting her to kiss him--at least to begin with. So she waits, head tilting up slightly, her gaze still tight on his.]
[Me too, he doesn't say, but his grin says it for him. Yes. Good, yes, good, and he scoots closer to Laura--though they're already quite close--and, after a second's more hesitation, he leans down to kiss her again.
It's only a little clumsy, and mostly at the start. Matthias has kissed before. He's got experience. A little too hard, and then a little too still, frozen and nervous. Once he's established that yes, he's kissing Laura, then he can settle into it, a little shift. Tries to count down in his head, two, three, four, he ought to break by now, five, all right, lean back, else he'll come off as totally creepy--
He sits back with a new flush in his cheeks. And a new grin, too, something slightly dazed and pleased, both at once.]
Brilliant. [--Quietly, half to himself, before he swallows hard.] Er, yeah, let's-- let's have some of the pie, then?
[ When they are sitting there, staring a little breathless at each other once more, Laura regrets suggesting they eat the pie. It still smells worthy of consumption, but it means they will not be able to continue to kiss. And she thinks she would like to.
Technically speaking, they might not be the most self-assured kisses she has experienced, but they are the only ones that matter. Matthias' mouth tastes familiar, not in an unpleasant way, and he doesn't press for anything past a kiss--and by the time he draws back, there's a handful of his shirt clutched between her fingers. She lets go, something soft and light hiding beneath her breastbone, and admires the smile Matthias wears. ]
...Yes. [ She turns back to pick up the box--and since they're discussing their plans for the immediate future: ] And then I will kiss you again.
[Not that Matthias had lost his grin by any means, but that straightforward statement puts it back on his face in full. And the red in his ears and his cheeks is wholly renewed, having flared up again--and the feeling in his chest is like when you hold a moth cupped in your hands, and its wings are fluttering against your fingertips--like that but much larger, like as if the moth were a hundred feet tall, and you were still trying to hold it in your hands.]
Oh, yeah? Well, good. 'Cause I'd like that. A great deal. It's-- [Even his nose feels like it might be turning red, somehow; Matthias rubs at it.] --sort of mad, to be able to just say it. Or... even come close to saying it, like--talking around it. I dunno. Like all along, if I'd have know it'd be this easy, maybe I'd not have been such a coward about it.
[As he talks, Laura busies herself with opening the pie box and slicing it into neat wedges with a claw, partially because that is what they agreed to do and partially because she's not sure she can bring herself to look directly at Matthias in that moment. His face is flushed, and her cheeks feel warm, too, and if she thinks about any of it too directly, she is unsure she will be able to remain sitting here. There is too much energy in her limbs, too much temptation to climb up to the tallest point in the Gallows and sit there and hold all of this inside of her.
It is easier to listen to him without looking, and to think Matthias would like to kiss me without feeling like it might be written too clearly in her eyes.]
You were not a coward. [How could it be his fault? Laura picks up a slice of the pie with one hand and offers it to him, still not quite lifting her head.] I made it difficult.
[It doesn't go unnoticed by Laura that they might have had this conversation much earlier, from behind a pair of masks, if not for her.]
[A bit of crust crumbles off as Laura makes one of the cuts to the pie, and Matthias reaches for it, mushes it under his thumb, and lifts it up so he can give it a moment of study. Then he sneaks another look at Laura, with a self-conscious little grin.]
I mean, fair play, you didn't make it easy. I'll accept that. But I could've gone after you as well, or tried harder to find you, or, I dunno. Asked, outright. Instead of... waiting. But I didn't know, right? And it's hard, asking. Well. You know that.
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[He turns the little card sideways in his hand, as if reading it from this new angle will change anything. It, of course, does not.]
Mental name. Emhaveos. Er, anyways. Are you--anywhere about?
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[There is a pause. It would be convenient to have him meet her where she is now--then, if he does not like his Satinalia gift, no one else will have to know.]
I am in my room.
[In the Templar tower, six flights up.]
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[And he is, a few moments later. More minutes, really; six flights is a load of stairs, even for someone with natural energy to spare, and the magic of Satinalia lightening his footsteps.
He knocks, first. Shifts his weight, foot to foot, staring at the door, with his arms loaded down. The box with the pie he's holding by the string that keeps it close, tied about it in a neat package--as neat as he could manage, after untying it to see what it was and then retying it to secure it up again. He keeps looking at it, as if it have come untied, or otherwise disappeared.]
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Matthias is a sound in the hallway before he is a knock at the door; by the time he does rap his knuckles against the wood, she is already standing on the other side, poised to swing the door wide. So she does, brightening at the sight of him. Not quite a smile, perhaps, but not at all unhappy to see him.]
Come in.
[The room is almost entirely bare: a bed with a small package wrapped in green wool and the book she'd been reading before he contacted her. A small chest for clothing with a single necklace lying on top of it. (The locked box that holds her remaining money is hidden away.) And since there is nowhere to sit, she returns to her neatly made bed and sits at the edge of it.]
I have a gift for you, too.
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[Matthias does as he's told, and goes into the room--and once he's within, tries his best not to stare at his surroundings. S'only a room, is what he tells himself. But 's Laura's room, isn't it, himself argues back. So there's loads of details to pick up on. No--is that creepy? Maybe a bit. What would someone make of his spare little bed in the dormitory? Wouldn't want someone to judge him on that. Ought he to move elsewhere, like? Get his own room? What would he do with all that space?
What's Laura do with all that space? But then she deserves it, doesn't she. Because, you know. Is that stupid of him to think? A bit. She doesn't deserve pity. And he doesn't pity her, of course.
Oh, bugger, he realizes then, midway through these thoughts. There's only the bed to sit on. Well, that's all right. Plenty of people sit beside one another on beds. Matthias has spent loads of time sitting on beds (when they were around) and bedrolls and cots, casually taking up space with the other mages. Even done that easy all-pile-on thing, where your limbs get comfortably tangled up with other limbs and it's just cozy, like. And even with Laura, it's not supremely weird. She's his friend. 'Course, he did spend time sitting in silence on top of a wall, holding her hand and looking out at the water. And she held his hand a bit before that as well. And they did kiss, that one time, but that was for the game, and she did run away straight after--which is to say this is complicated, and he definitely fancies her, so.
Well. After all of that, Matthias follows her, and sits on the bed beside her. Puts the box with the Mhavos Pie-lat between, and the two packages he's got carried in his arm beside that. They're both wrapped in paper, clumsily refastened with string that he'd untied after he'd gotten back to the Gallows, just to check and be sure that he'd gotten what he paid for, that the gifts were real, that--Maker, please--Laura would probably like them.
He grins at her, quick, a little nervous. There's a pink in his ears already. Bu-ggg-ger.]
You didn't have to get me anything. Not that I'm complaining. I love gifts. Er--who goes first? Do we do it by age? Or d'you want to Rock-Paper-Shears, or we could both go at once, or-- [SHUT UP MATTHIAS] --maybe the Mhavmouse thinger first. It is fairly brilliant, whoever that is.
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At this moment, she exists in the empty room with him, which feels right and--for her, at least--not awkward. It seems self-evident that they are not going to have sex or fall asleep, which makes the bed irrelevant as a bed. It is essentially a sofa.
He smiles at her, and she feels her lips curve up, too, just slightly. (It does not always feel like it's her smiling; she does not feel like a person who smiles. But around Matthias, she is. Somewhat.) She is about to suggest that he open his gift first, so she will know sooner if he dislikes it, when she finally recognizes what he's trying to say.]
This is from Mhavos. [Reaching for the little card on the box, she examines it, her brows knitting.] He gave you a gift to give to me?
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[Just the normal patter of conversation helps. Matthias knows what to do with talking, and that's: talk. This isn't so weird. It's only Laura, who he likes as well as fancies, so if he's carrying around a load of stupid feelings that's all well and good but that doesn't stop them from being friends.
Anyways: Mhavos. Whoever that is. The name sounds familiar when she says it--a voice on the crystals, Orlesian, seems like. Matthias pulls around the pie package and starts picking at the knot.]
It was a thing, I think. I dunno if you signed up. That Bastien was going about, saying d'you want to surprise someone for Satinalia, and be surprised, and I did, so I gave him my name. I was thinking that's got to be what this is for. Only then I was thinking, maybe he meant to give it to you, actually, and then I was the, wossit, courier, like. But I dunno what's that have to do with Satinalia, so--
[He pulls a little face and picks harder at the knot.]
Stupid--thing--sorry, one mo'--
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[Realizing she knows both Mhavos and Matthias, but they do not, is strange. It is not surprising, exactly, when she stops to consider just how many people there are in Riftwatch--but it feels odd to know that she has befriended people who are strangers to each other.
(When she stops to think about it, having friends at all is, in itself, strange.)
Regardless, she reaches out with a claw and slices the strings, hoping to save Matthias the effort of figuring out the knot. (She's also, perhaps, curious about the scent of sugar and citrus permeating the room. Whatever Mhavos has given him, it is with an eye toward Laura's tastes.)]
I had to give a gift to Captain Flint. [Somewhat nerve-wracking. And, somewhat uncertainly:] Perhaps Mhavos did not understand the rules.
[Specifically, that Matthias should have his own gift, even if, upon opening the box, Laura has no complaints regarding the possibility of having a taste of the contents.]
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Thanks. I don't forget that you've got those, just doesn't come up as my first thought. Anyway, maybe it's an Orlesian thing, right? He's Orlesian, if his is the voice I'm thinking of from the crystals. I reckon they've loads of really weird Satinalia traditions. Gifts by proxy'd be like them.
Oh, hang on--here--
[That accompanies him lifting the lid from the box, and there it is: the pie. Even to Matthias with his normal humany nose, he picks up on that heavy scent of sweet sugar and orange. As proud as if he'd baked this pie himself, he grins at Laura again.]
For us.
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[Perhaps it isn't, and Matthias' thoughts have gone to a different Orlesian who talks over the crystals--but Laura is willing to believe he's imagining the right one.
And, she decides, looking down at the pie, one it's revealed, she can give Matthias one of the grapefruits Mhavos gave to her. In that way, he will have delivered gifts by proxy to both of them.
At this moment, the pie smells impossibly good, something she did not know she could want until it sits between them. It is terribly inviting, and she could easily slice it for both of them--Matthias has not, historically, been disgusted by the way she uses her claws with food. But--]
We should eat it last. [It will last longer; the smell will be there around them, and they will have the only Satinalia that counts. She reaches blindly next to her for his present, not entirely certain she is ready for his reaction to it--but if he does not like it, then it will be over quicker. They will still have pie, and she will try not to be disappointed, if he does not like it.] You must open your gift.
[Specifically, a book of Nevarran fairy tales translated into Trade, a woolly forest-green scarf wrapped around it in place of paper. The only story in it that matters is called "The Bone and Velvet Boy," and it is not marked out in any way; it simply exists, among other stories that Laura found diverting, if not so meaningful.]
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And anyways, he's got a gift to distract him. With a grin, he shifts so he's pulled one of his legs up on the bed, and he's sort of facing Laura. He holds his hands out to accept the present, and pauses first to marvel over the softness of the scarf. But there's something it's wrapped around, he can feel it, and he untwists the scarf and lets it fall into his lap so he can turn the book about and read its spine once he's got it unwrapped.]
Nevarran Fa-- hey, brilliant. D'you like these?
[Although he is sixteen years of age. Ought he to say that? No, because she'd given him the book for a reason. It must be because she likes it, and so she wants to give it to him as a gift. So it's meaningful, like. Matthias flips the book about so he can start to page through it, admiring the words contained within.]
I don't actually own any books, y'know. This is my first one.
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Yes.
[It has not occurred to her that fairy tales might be childish. She has spoken of them with Mhavos, and with Ellis, which surely means they are simply something everyone reads.]
I do not have any books, either. But I have read this one.
[At the Gallows library, and--once, part of it--many years before. Left unsaid is a comment on its quality, but that, she is hoping, Matthias will understand without further prompting. If asked, Laura is unsure she'd be able to explain the gift, even if she wished to.]
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[--Again, full of appreciation. You'd think that was the only word he knows. The pages are crisp and nice and the smell of the book is good--new, something of parchment and binding and ink. These are aesthetic things that Matthias can appreciate. Deeper than that: he can appreciate that this book means something to Laura, and so it can now mean something to him as well.
He shuts it with a snap and turns his smile back at her.]
Now I can read it as well and then we'll be matched in that. Scarf's good as well.
[In case she was wondering. Matthias picks it up and loops it about his neck, loosely. As he's doing so, he orders her:]
Open up yours now!
[The larger of the two is a blanket. A nice blanket: terribly soft wool dyed in a plaidweave pattern, reds and yellows and oranges and burnt bright browns. It looks like fire. That's why Matthias bought it. The smaller package is better. Or he thinks it's better, at least. Maybe it's dumb. Unwrapped, it will fall lightly into Laura's lap: a carving of a cat, painted silver, a silver so shiny it makes the creature look cut from metal. Or lyrium. It has two green eyes, tiny stones that wink in the light when you turn it back and forth--and the tail is curled neatly around the paws--and the little hunch a cat's shoulders make, that notch between the shoulder-blades, that's there as well, barely larger than the tip of your little finger.
He leans over to look at it, when she gets it free of the package.]
Dunno why, but it made me think of you a bit. 'Cause cats have claws, I s'ppose. First obvious thought, that. But otherwise, as well, cats're otherwise like you as well. That--balance and quiet and cleverness. Did you ever play that game, when you were a kid? What animal would you be, and you say why. If I was playing for you, I'd pick cat. I like cats.
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(She has never owned a blanket before, either, beyond what came with this room. If Kirkwall becomes as cold as Nevarra sometimes did, she suspects she will be all the more grateful for Matthias' gift.)
Because he put on the scarf, and she'd liked that, she drapes the blanket around her shoulders before she opens the smaller gift. It, too, receives consideration, Laura running her thumb carefully along the cat's back. It is smooth, and it shines, and the fact that its eyes are green is satisfying on a level she can't entirely explain to herself.]
I have never played that game.
[It is notable to realize he saw a cat in her--Derrica had, too, and so had some anonymous stranger. Laura will have to consider this in greater depth later. For now, she sets the cat on the little table beside her bed, so it can watch them both without getting lost in the shuffle, and she turns her attention back more fully to Matthias.
They have opened their gifts, and that means they should now taste Mhavos' pie. But the idea of saying thank you and moving on is dissatisfying, and Laura is not sure why. For a moment or two, she puzzles over it, staring at him intently, as though she's on the verge of speaking. It is because she does not think thank you accurately conveys what she feels at that moment. Because the desire to hear things stated has started to outweigh the desire not to feel uncertainty. Because it is Matthias, and he is kind, and she wants to hold his hand again.]
How do you feel about me?
[Those are the words Derrica used when she said Laura should ask. If it goes badly, she will at least know that she asked it correctly.]
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He's finished winding the scarf about himself, but he reaches compulsively to tug at one of the ends, just for something to do with at least one of his hands. And to his credit, he only drops his gaze for a moment. Gives himself some space. The edge of the blanket is there, the rest of it gathered around Laura's shoulders. The trim is fringed. Perfect for fidgeting with.]
Well--I like you.
[There. He said it. He looks up at Laura quickly, to give that statement extra credence and weight.]
I do. Like--we're friends, and all, but you're also-- [Bravely, Matthias loosens his hand from its grip on the scarf, and gives it a wave, a gesture that tries to get at what he might mean.] --brilliant. I-- fancy you, I s'ppose. A little. Or, [his ears are red, he can feel it, heat like a fever that spreads down into his face, and his neck,] a lot. If that's-- all right.
[Shit. Quickly, then, before she can say anything--] I don't want it to be weird. I mean, no matter what else, I'm, y'know, your friend, and all. And I want to keep being your friend. So it's not like it has to go anywhere, what I just said, or even--like, if I wait, it'll not be as bad. Or it will go away. A bit. Or entirely. Or--if it's better, you could just forget I said it at all.
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She knows what all this is, friendship and fancying--she's picked this sense of the word up from listening to others speak, that is a crush--and more than that, she knows what Matthias' flushed throat means. He smells truthful, in a way she can't begin to explain and might not be more than magical thinking; she wants to believe him, and the wool and soap and sweat of him is something that already means earnest, kind, safe, gentle. It is true because it comes from him.
There is something rising inside her, threatening to burst free of the flesh holding it inside her. Her brow knits.]
I do not want to forget.
[This means, she thinks, that she can reach for his hand again.
No--it means something more than that. Laura scoots closer, lifting the edge of the blanket so it can be brought around his shoulders as well. It is too much, knowing this, but it is bearable. Even trying to respond feels like too much--but survivably so. He already said it. She is only agreeing.]
That is how I feel, too.
[Now, she thinks, and slides her fingers in between his, her gaze falling down to his hand.]
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Doesn't mean he gets it straight from the off. Takes a moment for the words to sink in, oh, good, she doesn't want to forget--tempered with a lingering but if she does, he can make space for that as well, if she should change her mind--but then she's put her blanket over his shoulders, making a kind of tent around them, keeping them in safe and warm and together, and--
Oh. Warmth flushes through Matthias in with the red in his face. Laura's fingers, twined between his, has this answering coolness. Matthias looks down, and then up, just as quickly, and a grin is starting to spread across his face.]
Oh. [He says it aloud. Stupid.] Well, that's-- that's brilliant, then. We're the same in it. We're--
[Shit. His shoulders hunch a little, under the shared blanket; he's grinning like a moron. He grips back at her fingers.]
Good. Er. I'd hoped, I mean, not that I was-- well, I've thought about you, 'course I have, that's not what I mean. Just. Not to a creepy degree. And I'd hoped that you--felt the same. 'Course. But it's... I'm glad to hear it. [Shut up, Matthias. He laughs, at himself.] More'n glad, really. Right pleased and then some. So, great. Yeah. Happy Satinalia to us.
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But at that moment, she is unsure she can endure many more stumbling attempts at...whatever Matthias is trying to convey. (Happiness, and surprise, and more happiness, all of it matching a sort of relief in her. She wants to be here next to him and also to be alone, all at once--but she wants the former more than the latter.) Words seem like an ineffectual tool for their purposes.
So she leans over and kisses him. Not like their first kiss: this is is light, soft, without a mission to determine the length it lasts. As such, it does not last nearly as long--but she likes it better. When she pulls away again, she is as serious as always, but her voice is gentle.]
We should taste the pie.
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Yeah.
[Yeah. They ought to. It's right there, and now that he's thinking of it, the smell of it rises again, citrus and sweet, but--]
Can I, er, kiss you again, first? Just--quick. Once more. That's all, for now. And then pie, definitely.
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I would like that.
[Wanting to kiss her is different from wanting her to kiss him--at least to begin with. So she waits, head tilting up slightly, her gaze still tight on his.]
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It's only a little clumsy, and mostly at the start. Matthias has kissed before. He's got experience. A little too hard, and then a little too still, frozen and nervous. Once he's established that yes, he's kissing Laura, then he can settle into it, a little shift. Tries to count down in his head, two, three, four, he ought to break by now, five, all right, lean back, else he'll come off as totally creepy--
He sits back with a new flush in his cheeks. And a new grin, too, something slightly dazed and pleased, both at once.]
Brilliant. [--Quietly, half to himself, before he swallows hard.] Er, yeah, let's-- let's have some of the pie, then?
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Technically speaking, they might not be the most self-assured kisses she has experienced, but they are the only ones that matter. Matthias' mouth tastes familiar, not in an unpleasant way, and he doesn't press for anything past a kiss--and by the time he draws back, there's a handful of his shirt clutched between her fingers. She lets go, something soft and light hiding beneath her breastbone, and admires the smile Matthias wears. ]
...Yes. [ She turns back to pick up the box--and since they're discussing their plans for the immediate future: ] And then I will kiss you again.
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Oh, yeah? Well, good. 'Cause I'd like that. A great deal. It's-- [Even his nose feels like it might be turning red, somehow; Matthias rubs at it.] --sort of mad, to be able to just say it. Or... even come close to saying it, like--talking around it. I dunno. Like all along, if I'd have know it'd be this easy, maybe I'd not have been such a coward about it.
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It is easier to listen to him without looking, and to think Matthias would like to kiss me without feeling like it might be written too clearly in her eyes.]
You were not a coward. [How could it be his fault? Laura picks up a slice of the pie with one hand and offers it to him, still not quite lifting her head.] I made it difficult.
[It doesn't go unnoticed by Laura that they might have had this conversation much earlier, from behind a pair of masks, if not for her.]
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[A bit of crust crumbles off as Laura makes one of the cuts to the pie, and Matthias reaches for it, mushes it under his thumb, and lifts it up so he can give it a moment of study. Then he sneaks another look at Laura, with a self-conscious little grin.]
I mean, fair play, you didn't make it easy. I'll accept that. But I could've gone after you as well, or tried harder to find you, or, I dunno. Asked, outright. Instead of... waiting. But I didn't know, right? And it's hard, asking. Well. You know that.
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