Her ringing tantrum shrieks lanced through his skull like bolts, banging an invisible drum behind his eyeballs and causing white flashes to beat across his vision in relentless time.
Silence fell, and Reschauld eyed Tabatha warily. Her little face was purple, now, and staring off into nothing. “Not again,” Reschauld darted out from behind his desk to grab her by the shoulders before she could topple over. She wasn’t imbalanced this time, not like on the ship, and she didn’t lean one way or the other. Tabatha just sat there as if she were daydreaming, rubbing her fingers together as if distracted. The episode continued for an agonizingly long time; Reschauld had failed to write to the Revenhjar yet, but he reminded himself desperately to mention these lapses tonight, when he sent them a letter to inform them of the party’s safe arrival. Minutes seemed to pass, and then, all at once, she blinked and the raging little Revenhjar terror was back. Tabatha opened her mouth to scream. Reschauld didn’t remember deciding to lock his hand over her mouth, but that’s what he did. Tabatha’s shock was obvious; her big, dark eyes were wide over his fingers, then black with furious hate. She rocked violently in the chair, swinging at his face and clawing at his hand. “Tabatha, I need you to listen,” Reschauld told her calmly. Of course, she ignored him. Reschauld tried again. “Tabatha.” Her whole little body was flailing, now, fighting like a trapped animal. Reschauld lost his patience and shook her like a doll. “Tabatha! Don’t you understand?! You just had some kind of a stroke or fainting spell and I can’t even tell you about it because you won’t listen!” She was trying to bite his hand, now, but at least she’d stopped flailing. Reschauld caught the back of her head in his other hand and held her still. Tears were welling up in her eyes. Reschauld snatched his hands away. “I’m not going to stop,” he told her, still crouched before her chair. “I’m not going to let you do whatever you like. I’m not your mother. I can’t even help you because you just won’t listen. We aren’t going to keep going this way.” Tabatha’s face was red as a beet, and a vein in her forehead was pulsing, amusingly similar to the vein the sometimes stood out from Lady Revenhjar’s own temple. Like mother, like daughter. “Do you remember anything?” Reschauld asked slowly. He waited for her to answer, which she did not do. “Do you feel sick? Or dizzy?” Tabatha didn’t reply, but neither did she scream in his face. But then, she was panting like a boar on a warpath, sitting there like a tiny coil of mad springs, ready to shoot in any direction. Reschauld stood and returned to his desk. He put his optics back on and opened a book, although his head groaned like creaking gears. “If you don’t want to work on your numbers fine. But you’re not going anywhere—we’ll sit here all afternoon, if you want, just you and me.”