dreadinquisitor | Fade Rift IC: Inbox

Pel sees him and remembers his face, but doesn't approach him immediately. She shouldn't. She should let Gavin's affairs be his own. Except she already intruded, didn't she? Made him run away from this object of his affections to come comfort her.

It's hard to call what she feels jealousy, because that would imply she wanted Gavin back. It's more that seeing him with other people makes her horribly aware of her own deficiency, that someone else possesses some quality required to keep a loved one nearby. That isn't limited to Gavin, either. She just...doesn't have what it takes to keep people near her, somehow. That shouldn't mean Gavin can never be happy.

She finally approaches him when she's only half-convinced that the idea of approaching him can be considered a smart one. She hardly ever does anything impulsive in her life.

"'Neth ara," she mumbles. "I--"

This is a terrible idea. She has difficulty looking Max in the eye.

"Gavin...is absolutely terrible at talking. About anything."

There. Direct approach. Her gaze finally holds steady.

"I don't want you to think what happened is worse than it is. He can exaggerate, it's a way he has of punishing himself."

He'd thought about her, of course. Had wondered if he should try to find her, try to apologize... but he hadn't been certain that wouldn't just make things worse. To have her find him was unexpected.

And something of a relief, as well as terrifying.

Digging in a herb bed, his hands full of earth and a smear of dirt on his cheek when she approached, he straightened to his knees tensely.

"...He tried," he replied, brushing his hands together slowly. "He told me you two were to be bonded and it -- didn't go well. Was that not true?"

"It is." All right, there. Common frame of reference. Pel keeps eye contact as she sits on a bench, thereby directing him to do the same. She approves of a shem willing to dig in the earth and get dirt under his fingernails, at least. This one might be worthy of one of her clanmates. "Or, it went pretty well until he left. I honestly don't entirely understand what happened in his head because he's absolutely terrible at talking, but he did leave. No mistreatment or anything, just..."

Deep breath.

"What else did he say?"

"Admittedly, it gets more confusing after that," he said softly, blinking as he replayed the conversation over in his mind again (as if he'd stopped). He rubbed the back of his wrist against his cheek as he rolled up off his knees and onto his heels, rising from the bed to approach the bench. "But I think - I'm certain, he regrets what happened. And that he's deeply sorry that he hurt you."

"He is." She swallows. "He thinks he can punish himself into being a better person because he doesn't know how to just...make better choices. He could probably use your help there, if...that's what you want...to do?"

She peers up at him.

Maxwell paused, caught momentarily off guard by the question - namely because it came from her.

"I--" he blinked again, and his head tipped. "I'm not sure he wants anything from me, at the moment, but I will always be here for him, if he needs me."

Okay, okay. They seem to be friends. Pretty good friends, maybe.

"That's good." Light touch, light touch. No meddling, this isn't really her affair. "Did you meet recently?"

He shook his head, not surprised that Gavin's clan didn't know about him. Lest of all her, likely being the reason they'd met at all.

"It was several years ago. At the annual Tourney in the Free Marches."

She nods faintly.

"Good." She's done here, really. This is all she needed to establish.

"I've work to do. Thank you for your time." She pushes to her feet.

His eyebrows twitched, veeing slightly in surprise, but after a beat he merely ducked his head.

"Of course," he replied. "And, for what it's worth, I'm sorry."

Fade Rift IC: Inbox

Gardens, the day after That Disaster with Gavin

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