silvergift | IC CONTACT

Thank you.

[She goes quickly, taking only a moment to strap her sword to her hip just in case. And so her mother wouldn't see it still there and panic about where she'd disappeared to.

Then she's out the door and heading straight to the cathedral.]

[He won't be easy to spot when she walks in, but the heavy door shuts quickly behind her as if pushed from the outside. It's silent and dark inside, save for a single set of candles lit near the front casting a low and hazy shadow across the stone floor. The shape of the foremost pew is interrupted by a human-looking figure seated on the floor in front of it.

Tim is not in the best condition. On the floor in front of the pew he sits hunched over and pale, hair wild and eyes bloodshot. When she comes into view in his peripheral vision - he doesn't move his eyes from directly in front of him - he lets out a sharp, short laugh and rubs the back of one hand across his forehead.]

I could kill you, but still you come. [Wearily, he closes his eyes.] So stupid to trust me, but too stubborn not to.

[She spins around to watch the doors close behind her, eyes wide in surprise. A part of her moves to try to open them again but she stops herself, looking around for Tim. He's the reason she came, she can't run off without helping him.

Her eyes are drawn towards the candlelight and she starts heading towards them, eventually spotting his silhouette.]

Tim-! [And then she's rushing forward, kneeling beside him and reaching to lightly brush as his hair. Even as she bristles at being called stupid.]

I care about you. And I am a healer, I could hardly ignore someone in need and never a friend.

Don't touch me.

[It's more a reflexive reaction than a harsh demand as he knocks her hand lightly aside with a clumsy gesture. The glance he shoots her is sidelong with one eye half pressed closed, and though he doesn't shift away the response makes his wishes clear enough.

He tips his head back but the position he's in gives nothing to rest it on, so he quickly abandons the position.]

I'm afraid this is too much for even your talents. [He adds, giving her another look.] But I won't be expiring any time soon.

Alright. [Her voice is soft and she lowers her hands to place them in her lap, watching him for a moment. If he doesn't want her to touch him, what did he need help with? And why her if he thought she was stupid for trusting him?]

You can lean on me if you wish, even if you do not wish me to touch you. [It's an offer and she is still worried.]

I am glad for that but what is wrong? What can I do?

No. No.. thank you.

[He shudders, a slowly exhaled breath shaking out into the cool air of the cathedral. Tim rubs his face with both hands, then stretches one leg out in front of him with an uncomfortable wince.

Then, as he moves to address her question, his expression twists into something more unpleasant, if lacking its usual fire.]

That stupid bitch did this. Chassie. And Temper thinks I need to be on a fucking leash. [He bites out each word as if it's a curse, then presses the heel of his hand to his forehead.] I asked you because-- I can't speak to anyone else. Not even Atien. I don't know what this has done to him.

Chassie did this? [It's hard to keep shock out of her voice. She'd seemed like such a harmless little girl and she'd worried about Tim when she'd last talked with her.

And as he goes on, it just worries her more. This has affected more than just him? And clearly enough that he's angry with one of the only people who have defended him to her.]

I do not think any of you should be leashed. Tell me exactly what happened, please?

We don't know. She's never-- I didn't think she could.

[He's curling in on himself, pressing a palm to his head as if it might ease some kind of pain. Slowly, he exhales through his nose and shakes his head. Why Celebrían, of all people...

He doesn't want her here, but he isn't going to tell her to go.]

Turning on each other like that, we don't do that. Do you understand? She--

[Another wince. His face pales.]

She's brought our opposites to us. Made them part of us.

[The urge to reach out to him just gets stronger when he curls in on himself but she manages to restrain herself.]

That is possible? [What would that do to them? Did it include their memories? How would it affect their behavior? Their health?]

You are at war with yourselves, then.

She twists reality. Stupid, giving a child that kind of power.

[Slowly, he relaxes and lifts his head up again. Whatever he's going through, it's taking its toll on him physically. More so than his usual daily life does, anyway.]

Literally, yes, do you have any idea what that feels like?

[She doesn't focus on that. Sure, a child probably shouldn't have that kind of power but she's sure her mother had her own gifts when she was young too.

Instead, Celebrían focuses on Tim and how he looks.]

No, I am afraid I do not but I can imagine. [And she still respects his request not to touch him but...] You need rest. Come back with me, I can make you something to help ease any pain. And you can be comfortable, at least.

[He frowns, not looking directly at her but a foot offside. For several moments, he's silent, then he nods minutely.]

Very well.

[It's - very pointedly - without her help that he uses the pew behind him to get up, then gives her another small, curt nod.]

Let us go.

[There's a little sigh but she doesn't object to his refusal to help, getting up once he's ready and heading out towards her house. She doesn't rush, going at the pace he sets instead.]

Is there anything particular you like?

[He arches a slim brow at her as they walk, taking his steps with a careful grace that conceals the difficulty of each one.]

Did we begin a different conversation? [He asks shortly, pushing the door of the cathedral open and holding it for her to pass.]

I like many things.

Not at all. [Patience. She's raised a pair of twins and a daughter. And she has to remember that Tim isn't quite himself at the moment.]

But I would like an idea of what teas or foods you like so you'll be able to relax comfortably.

You don't have to do that.

[Tim never lets go of his suspicions, even with her. Especially with her, in fact.] Why do you continue to try?

I know that but I want to. You are my guest and my friend. [And that's all that matters, at least to her.] I have never liked seeing people upset or in pain.

[He narrows his eyes on her, his look one that does not simply see but looks beyond the surface, seeking what might be hiding beneath. Tim is not a trusting individual - he does not befriend everyone like Chassie, or select people to become close to as Chari does.

Even the likes of Temper have better developed social skills.]

And if they deserve it? [He questions, maintaining that sharp, penetrating gaze.] What of it, then?

[She stops and turns her gaze towards him again. If they deserve it? How many people has she ever known that she thought deserved to be hurt in any way? She's had a long life, it's something she has to give some thought to.]

I have rarely known anyone that I thought deserved it. [The orcs but did they count as people?] So I am not sure I can give you a very good answer.

Some people deserve it. Some people deserve to suffer exactly what they inflicted on others.

[He moves a few steps before he realises she's stopped and looks over his shoulder, brow still faintly creased.] But some people never get what they deserve.

[Tim looks down and kicks a small stone away from his foot.]

You can call me Hayden. Do not tell anyone else that name.

Hayden? [Curious at first and then she beams and moves closer, giving him a quick peck on the cheek before resuming the careful distance they had.]

I will not tell a soul. I will even be careful not to think it near my mother. [Not that Galadriel would pry. Intentionally.]

Perhaps some do, I have never thought it much. I was born in a time of peace, it is all I really ever knew.

[He clicks his tongue lightly against the roof of his mouth. Despite willingly giving her the name, he still seems to momentarily cringe at the sound of it.

In the easy movement of walking it is easy to disguise the state of discomfort that she found him in, and he pushes his hands into his pockets.]

Peace is an illusion. A prelude to what inevitably comes after. Nothing more than that.

[If he asks, she'll keep using 'Tim' and, truthfully, she'll use it pretty often. Simply because of habit, she still thought of her mother as Galadriel after all, when everyone in Tirion thought of Artanis or Nerwen.]

Peace can be real, though rare.

IC CONTACT

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