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@doubleedgedsparrow
He grins. “Deal.” He sits, and points to the floor in front of him. “Sit. But get me a comb, first. Or a brush.”
“Really?” She laughs, but rushes out to the bedroom instead of waiting for a reply. She comes back with her hair brush and passes it off before flopping down comically onto the mess of pillows and quilts in front of the fire place. “All set.”
He laughs softly. “I’m sure I’ll be able to convince him occasionally. It helps when you have a sidekick, though.” He gives her a little smile as he tugs his fingers through her hair. “I have time now,” He offers. “I could do it for you. And I have some gossip.”
Damn, that feels good. “Okay. You got me. Let’s get into the gossip.”
He decides to break it, now or never, “Are you coming back?”
She knows how she should answer. No. She and Rugar have big plans. There’s a whole life for her away from here.
“I don’t know.”
He frowns, a slight wrinkle forming in his brow. “I know.” He squeezes her hand . “It’s not the same without you around. But I know you’ve had it worse. I wish I could have been here more,” He adds as he turns her hand over in his, distracting himself by playing with her fingers.
“What can I do to make it easier?”
“Just be my friend. Like you always do?” She offers with a smile. “Play for me. Hair-braiding contests. Tricking the Listener into thinking it’s Loredas instead of Fredas.” Her smile gets brighter.
“Maybe listen to me bitch now and again.”
His face falls slightly in sympathy. “Oh.” He isn’t sure what else to say, and instead, lightly reaches forward to touch her hand, fingertips brushing against her knuckles.
“It’s Evariste’s fault. Not yours.”
She links their fingers, rubs his knuckles with her thumb. “Yeah.” She’s quiet a moment, then manages to look up at him again.
“I’ve had a really rough few months, Maks.”
He steps in and shrugs off the cold, “I’m glad you’re being taken care of, darling. You’re always a delight.”
Their home is small, but it’s something he could see Rugar and Sparrow build. Their little love nest. Jean-Pierre’s heart is tickled, he’s so proud of her.
“So, shall we eat?” He chuckles as he sits himself at the dining table, “There’s jam in the basket too. Really, one of my better batches to date!”
As they sit down and break into their bread, Jean-Pierre decides that he’d had to perform a necessary cruelty so early in the morning, “We’ve all been so worried about you. I was… well, I was wondering if you don’t mind if I asked you something personal.”
Sparrow’s plenty thrilled that she doesn’t have to fuck up the kitchen in order to attempt to make her own breakfast this morning. She starts the kettle in the fireplace so that they can have tea, and joins Jean-Pierre at the table while the water heats.
She pauses spreading her jam when Jean-Pierre hedges about personal questions. She shrugs a little, but nods. “I guess.”
“Nasty ones. A lot of initiates speculating that you and Evariste were intimate. I stomped them out, of course.” He glances at her. “…I don’t care if you were. I just didn’t like them gossiping about you. And it still wasn’t right of Azarath to send you away.”
“I don’t really care what they say. But it’d be pointless to tell you not to worry about me.” She smirks, but it fades quickly. Clearly, months later, this is still bothering her. Sparrow turns to stoke the fire for a second.
“Evariste is my father. I didn’t know. He left when he found out.”
cookingforsithis
“Breakfast, darling. I don’t doubt Rugar has been providing well for you, but I cannot help myself sometimes.” He smiles and hands the basket for her to take, “I was hoping I could talk to you, if that’s alright. Do you mind if I come in?”
A beat, “Does Rugar mind if I come in? Oh bother, think I got myself into a tizzy here,” he smiles, playful.
“Sure -- yeah,” Sparrow shuffles back and pulls the door open with her, careful not to trip over boots of clothes. “Rugar doesn’t mind. I’m sure he’s just glad I’m talking to people.”
“You’ll tell me before you leave, won’t you?” He doesn’t mean to sound as anxious as he does, and he shuts his eyes. He huffs a breath as he tugs on the end of his braid.
“He made a mistake sending you away. You were–are–one of the best. And better than the new crop by far.”
“Of course I will.” Sparrow affectionately bumps her knuckles against Maksim’s jaw. “I don’t blame him for doing it. I... can only imagine what kinds of rumors there are about why I left.”
It's bright and early, Dawnstar was waking up, with the sounds of shops opening and market stalls being set up. Jean-Pierre arrives at Rugar--and Sparrow's-- home with a basket of bread and knocks on the door, "Sparrow, darling? Are you home?"
Sparrow opens up the door looking bleary-eyed and tousled. She’s still in her nightshirt, though she doesn’t seem bothered at all standing in front of him like that. “Jean-Pierre? Hi,” she looks down, drawn in by the basket, and smiles softly. “Oh, come on. What’s all this?”
Does it feel like home in his arms? The way they hold you down securely and safely, all your worries would melt away, there's no reason to fear that he would leave too. But that horizon calls out to you, your wings grow restless and your eyes want to see beyond the frozen tundra.
I don’t know, okay? I don’t know.
Why doesn’t he feel as restless as I do? Why doesn’t he want more? Is there something wrong with me that I can’t settle, can’t rest easy, can’t breathe, can’t move? And for what’s worse, I can’t decide. I’m as frozen in place as Dawnstar.
I can’t... I can’t sort out the crap that’s inside my head. It’s too much. It’s too hard. I just want to go. And then Roog smiles at me like that, and Jean-Pierre comes by with bread and treats, and Maksstops in to check in on me, and I can’t imagine being anywhere but here. I’m being torn right down the middle.
What am I going to do?
Shipyard Aesthetics Sparrow Dascha Marion
Do you feel like you’re secondhand? Do you feel you’re afraid to stand alone? Cut away every safety net. Live your life so you won’t regret the road.
Lindsey Stirling & Lizzy Hale -- Shatter Me
I pirouette in the dark. I see the stars through a mirror. A tired mechanical heart beats until the song disappears. Somebody shine a light. I’m frozen by the fear in me. Somebody make me feel alive and shatter me. So cut me from the light. Dizzy, spinning endlessly. Somebody make me feel alive and shatter me.
You're running through a forest in your dream, though you aren't being chased. Instead, you're pursuing something. Or rather, someone. Flashes of metal from under heavy robes catch the trickling sunlight. You call out to him, Evariste, begging him to stop, to answer your questions, but every time it seems you're closer to getting your answers, you're out of reach. He's gone. And you're left there, forever running, always chasing him.
She’s had this dream before.
Not always with Evariste. Sometimes she’s chasing her sister, the mother she never met, the phantoms she deliberately left in the dusty back-street hovels that raised her. Sparrow wakes silently. She’s careful not to wake Rugar as she slips out of bed. She dresses silently in the dark, easily maneuvering around every memorized landmark of Rugar’s house. No – our house, she corrects herself. It’s hard to train herself to think in permanence.
Breathing in the cold leaves her lungs aching and brittle. It’s exactly the kind of clarity she needs to out-finesse the needling grasp of unanswered questions. Dawnstar offers her a horizon bruised black and purple, and before she can find her feet, she’s after it.
Sparrow can only chase the sky as far as the harbor. She stands on the docks awhile, listening to the boats rocking as the icy shallows lap at the hulls. Sure, the sun’s shining somewhere. But maybe it won’t kill her just to wait for it to come to her this time.
@cockcrowstwice:
“I won’t tell anyone,” He promises. He came to vent, to complain about the changes that have happened in the Sanctuary, but all of that feels petty in comparison to this. He wants to spend every moment he can with her, and he doesn’t want to spend it complaining. “Are you leaving soon?”
“Sort of. Rugar has to make sure he can take his work with him. I have to tell the Listener that I have no intentions of returning.” Sparrow rubs her opposite arm. I told myself I can’t leave until I do that, at least.”
@cockcrowstwice:
He watches her sadly. He wants to discourage her, to encourage her that her place is here, among her friends. They aren’t exactly like family, but they’re close enough. His stomach twists, and that feeling is familiar.
It’d be so easy to be selfish, but he’s been selfish before. There’s only one way that path has led for him. He forces a smile for her sake.
“The best Companion they’ll ever have.”
She forces a smile right back. It’s more comfortable that way. She figures she ought to say goodbye, or tell him that she’ll miss him and his music, but she’s not quite ready for that. “Could you promise you won’t tell Bri?” She asks instead. “I want to talk to her about it myself.”
@cockcrowstwice:
[He lowers his eyes to her when she says it. His stomach sinks; No matter what he figured was the truth, he’s always harbored a lingering hope that she would return. He takes in a slow breath, and releases it between his clenched teeth.]
I think I knew that. [He admits it softly, albeit with regret.] I want you to do what you want to do… And so, I suppose there’s no point in trying to change your mind?
The Listener gave me an out. I’d be an idiot not to take it. Besides, [she looks down, fidgets with her fingers,] Rugar and I are going to Whiterun. Start over, I guess. If anything, starting over is something I’m good at. Maybe... [she hunches her shoulders and looks up almost sheepishly.] Do you think I could make a good Companion?
