Open Post: A pair of gloves

[sporesprouter]

Tress was an old hand at waiting. She'd waited for Charlie for more than a year once. Having to do it twice was somewhat disheartening at times, but the mansion kind of had more to offer than the Rock had. (Not quite as much as the spore seas, but... nothing ever would.)

The first time she waited, she was the one to go out and fix it herself. (With help.)

This time, though... sometimes waiting apparently works.

There's a flash of red out of the corner of her eye as she passes a lounge. But that's not the important part. She's clearly on her way to the kitchen to cook her heart out. Charlie's here now. Tress is ecstatic.

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[wickedwit]

"All the stories you'd saved up for him." That's how it was with Gertrude. There wasn't enough time to tell her everything -- there's never enough time. "I'm surprised," he says, and keeps his tone controlled, keeps it deliberately light, "you let him leave your sight."

[sporesprouter]

"I..." She manages a faint smile. "There's plenty of time now."

[wickedwit]

Sometimes Claudius puts things together too quickly. Sometimes he realizes something other people don't realize about themselves, something they aren't willing or ready to hear. He's made a study of how people talk, perhaps to his undoing -- he struggles to sound natural, normal, like everyone else. But by the same token, he's taught himself to look for patterns. He knows when the pattern's wrong, when there's a snarling tangle of threads, nothing close to a complete tapestry. The word doesn't suit the action, the action the word. The halves fail to make a whole, the connecting logic legible but broken, like bells jangled out of tune and harsh. There's a wavering tone under a too-confident turn of phrase, the sort of thing someone would only say if they were trying to convince themselves. That makes the most sense. That must be it.

Sometimes people lie to themselves. Tress, from what Claudius has seen, is refreshingly honest. Even her modest protests to flattery are just that: modest. She's never denied a plain-spoken truth.

Tress isn't lying to herself about being happy to see Charlie. That might've explained it -- if their reunion ended in disappointment, if they quarreled about what to do next, if he left her to smooth things over with a meal, pretending everything is fine. But Claudius can't mistake that radiance. The sincere happiness of a girl in love, who's gotten everything she wished for after waiting. And if she isn't lying to herself, then someone else must be. "Tress," he says quietly, "do you know what's happening?"

[sporesprouter]

"I'm making a pie?"

[wickedwit]

Claudius laughs, because it's impossible not to. He puts his face in his hand, and shakes his head. "A pie for Charlie, yes. His favorite. Did he ask you to make it? When he left, what were his last words to you? Do you remember?"

[sporesprouter]

"He didn't have to ask me, I know what he likes. When he left, he said... what did he say? Hold on, I'm sure I'll think of it."

[wickedwit]

“Tress,” he says, so, so soft. “I daresay you know Charlie better than anyone in any world. His face, his voice, the way he looks at you. His earnest yet fanciful turns of phrase. Your hair is wheat and sunlight to him. He’s your favorite pair of gloves. No one could recreate the memory of him better than you could. Not even it they tried to do it.”

[sporesprouter]

"If sunlight were light brown," she murmurs. She swallows with some effort. "He likes telling stories."

[wickedwit]

All at once, it feels wrong to be doing this. He should stop. He doesn’t know what will happen, if he challenges the Charlie that’s wormed its way into Tress’s memories, and doesn’t know whether he should. Wasn’t she radiantly happy?

A practical voice in him says it goes back to if you think it would be worse if you told her or worse if she found out from someone else.

Gingerly, as if unsure he’ll be allowed, he takes her hand in his. “I’d like for you to trust me. I know I haven’t earned that trust — I’ve lied to you from the moment we’ve met, and kept lying to you, all so I wouldn’t lose your good esteem. But you have to believe that there’s nothing I wouldn’t do to protect you and your happiness. What would make you happier? The truth, or a kind lie?”

[sporesprouter]

Her hand trembles slightly in Claudius's grip, a dread growing creeping up on her. "I don't think lies can really make someone happy," she whispers.

[wickedwit]

A hand isn’t enough. He clasps Tress in his arms, touches her wheat-brown hair. “Tonight,” he says, “we’re going to kill the woman who killed Shen Yuan. I’d rather it didn’t come to this, but it’s a choice I’ve made before. A choice about whether it’s possible to live peaceably with somebody, or whether somebody needs to die. I don’t think it’s possible to make that choice easily. The last time I made it, I killed my own brother. That’s what I’ve lied to you about.” Swallowing, he says, “I think she did this to you. She gave you a memory that wasn’t yours. That wasn’t your Charlie. You would’ve cherished every story he had to tell you, wouldn’t you? Every single world.”

[sporesprouter]

That is... a lot in very short succession. Tress tries to take all of this in, her mind trying to fit everything together like she just got given another handful of pieces to a puzzle she thought she completed. Compounding the difficulty is the false memory clinging to her mind for dear life, a piece to another puzzle entirely slotted into a place it never belonged.

All she can manage is a faint, "What?"

[wickedwit]

“I wish I were wrong. But if I believed, truly believed, that Charlie came back to you, I wouldn’t have said anything. You should know how good I am at not saying things.”

[sporesprouter]

"Very good, apparently," she says slowly, still trying to make sense of approximately anything.

[wickedwit]

"I know. And I'll keep holding you for as long as you can stand it."

[sporesprouter]

Tress nods, not pulling away, her eyes welling with tears. "I... I believe you, I think, but I'm still trying to think of how to prove you wrong."

[wickedwit]

"I'm so sorry."

[sporesprouter]

Tress swallows with some difficulty. Her voice is somewhat thick. "I don't understand why."

[wickedwit]

Claudius makes his own assumptions about which why she means. "I think she must know we're making moves against her tonight. You're ... well-loved. Many of us want the best for you. What I don't know is whether she counted on someone finding out about her involvement, or whether it's better for her if no one does. She could be getting reckless. She may have stopped caring whether she lives or dies."

[sporesprouter]

He assumed the right why, anyway. "I never did anything to her." It's something she obviously can't know for certain because of Aornis's powers, but she certainly knows it because of her own personality.

[wickedwit]

"Thou'rt right." Tress is often right. But it also aligns with everything he knows of Tress, too, with his trust that Tress knows herself, even with the current aching doubt. "She doesn't care. It's about striking us where we're vulnerable."

[sporesprouter]

"It's... just cruel."

[wickedwit]

"Evil for evil's sake," Claudius agrees. It's not the first time he's held Tress in his arms after a cruel woman hurt her. "Thou didst not deserve this."

[sporesprouter]

"Nobody deserves this." She curls in on herself for an extended moment, nestles in Claudius's arms, before taking a slow breath and straightening a bit. "All right," she says slowly. "One problem at a time." Go find Charlie, tell him about how silly this-- no. "What do you think I should do?"

[wickedwit]

One step at a time, my dear. "Sagramore," he says, evenly despite the rough hint of tears in his voice, "and Laertes are having a celebration tonight. I'm sure you've received an invitation. It's to keep you safe. Out of range, if possible. The woman who did this -- she has power over coincidence. She can control fate, turn the chances of any encounter to her advantage. Over time, those coincidences become deadly. We're not sure how far those coincidences can spread, but we're hoping they're localized, and that she can't use her power in the mansion and in the cabin at the same time. I want you to go there. There are people who love you, who," a bitter laugh, "never lied to you. Spend time with them. They'll remind you what's real, when you find yourself caught in figments."