s e e k i n g

“ i- i know that, ”  occtis says, gently.  “ . . . kind of. ”  the latter is added with a smile. because in one way, he is expecting them to be like them — perpetually finding fault in him. maybe, just maybe, he can accept the idea that someone could be truly on his side.

“ um . . . ”   he looks back at his half-halo of papers. it's hard to explain why it feels safer to do it on the floor. desks and tables are for tests, the ground is for play. but the concern, as always, feels good and he wants to encourage it.  “ yeah, ”  occtis says, with an abashed smile as he starts to scoop up the papers,  “ yeah, i probably should- pin, please! ”

hal laughs, shaking his head, but rather than retiring to the couch, he bends down and pries pin from his clothing, scooping him up into his arms. ❛ will you at least ❜ — he speaks to the fox as though to another sentient, rational being — ❛ allow me to get your wizard settled someplace other than the floor before I sit down, if I promise to do so? ❜

a soldier's greeting is something azune is far more comfortable and that's exactly who alogar has grown into. not the teenager he remembers but a capable young soldier. his own grip wraps around alogar's forearm, tugging him slightly closer. “ someone had to now that... ” actually saying that thjazi is gone, rather than stating the fact of his funeral, is near impossible. although, lately hal had been looking out for him.

the jokes ring hollow, though. his mother's presence at tannesar would have been welcome, all bravado aside, and there is too the guilt — the knowledge that had he merely delayed his journey westward long enough to pass through castle torch, he'd have learned both of his mother's errand and of the futility of his planned return to dol-makjar. of course, he might well have turned right around and gone back into the dark, might well have risked that they would pass each other in the dark...

he should have waited there for their return, joined forces in a concerted effort — though to do what, alogar no longer knows, his clear intention to deliver what he knew to the one person he thought might make something of it undermined even before he had embarked upon it.

CRITICAL ROLE 4.27 Complicated Questions

+ bonus Kattigan reaction:

he's partially obscured by a worktable, which he peeks over now. he doesn't think his father will come this way unless he's directly seeking him — which he does when he's in a mood like this, looking for some insufficiency to punish. tristan carefully holds teacup, petting the top of her head to calm himself. he'll have to whisk her away to her pocket dimension if his father arrives. she always screeches at him when he yells at tristan.

“ of course, of course, ”  he says, quickly,  “ anything. ”  he's genuinely happy to help. he can imagine being in a similar situation, uneasy with all he doesn't know. but also, it feels like payment for disrupting cam's work and potentially making him nervous. servants who don't know him often feel like they have to be on their best behavior in tristan's presence.

temporarily relieved of pressure, his back makes known just how little it approves of his morning's efforts. cameron notes it — and ignores it, as he always does, indulging it only in the rest the distraction the prince's presence momentarily offers it.

❛ i was just saying that - ❜ pressing her lips together, christine lifts her hands in front of her chest, one finger lifting to stop him, ❛ if we forget about the... s word, the whole thing wasn't, well... so bad. ❜

he doesn't want to consider such things ( never does ), and thus sticks with the statement. ( it's simpler that way. )

the point stands, regardless. you can't just take the sheep out of the incident. do, and you get something wholly different.