Are you sure you're not Finwean?
Who: Faraday, Caranthir
What: Flailing, ouching, frowning, awkward silence, and some foreign advice about having hope and faith (huh?)
When: After Cara looked up his broken Cleeg brother
*comes wandering inside from walking across the lawn, just from the lake, seeming rather more cheerful than usual if a bit - distracted*
*Cara will be sitting in the common room, sort of brooding, though he's not talking in caps at this point - he's much too tired of feeling that pain. And yes, he still has that awful scar on his face.*
*comes wandering in and stops, startled!* --sir? *remembers him, and not quite horrified because /ow/ that looks like it hurt*
*he'll sort of start himself, hand going to his sword hilt, and relaxing when he sees her, only to stand and bow stiffly, and very quickly. And then /ow/. That hurt.* Lady.
*flails* --no, don't do that, you're wounded. *goes over, worried* Sit down. What - what happened?
I will be fine, pray not fear on my behalf, lady. *stiffly, but it's because he's nervous.* *he does sit, though - and painfully so.*
*a little slightly annoyed face* Don't be absurd.
*hey! For once that he's being repressed! Damn it!* Alright, it feels just as bad as it looks. Please don't pity me. *gruffly*
I'm not pitying you. I just know a thing or two about tending wounds. *:|*
I'm fine. It's just pain. It's no big deal.
*gives him a bit of a look* *and then backs off* All right. If you say so.
*muttering* it's not like I didn't ask for it.
---*blink*
*oh, she didn't hear it! Good!* Sorry. Makes me cranky. *points at the cheek.* How are you, Lady?
*no, she did hear it, that's why the - stare* ---well enough. *and frowning, now*
*so stiffly because pretty girls make him nervous.* But you are angry with me. Pray forgive me.
I'm not /angry/ with you. You're just - *frustrated noise* *men!*
*just an eyebrow.* *and then /ow/ because even that expression hurts.*
*alsdf -* Let me help.
*no, I deserve to be in pain. I'm a bloody monster, damn it.* it's alright, don't waste your talent on me, please. *still stiff, but it's nervousness, again.*
*just an eyebrow.* *and then /ow/ because even that expression hurts.*
*alsdf -* Let me help.
It'll be fine. Please don't waste your talent on me. *i'm a bloody monster, damn it!*
I don't have any talent, just a little knowledge.
You are too kind. *I don't deserve it!*
No, I'm really not. What's wrong?
Nothing. *and it's almost believable - but he's really an awful liar*
That much is certainly untrue. You're wounded, aren't you?
Actually, technically, I'm dead. *almost amused - hello, dry humor*
---no, you're not.
I guess not anymore. *pause* doesn't it horrify you?
I was dead before I came here. *briskly* Somehow I am not now.
*eyebrow* Sounds like it's just about everyone. *pause* except me. Well, until now.
*a shrug* I don't know.
*is going to be checking for his injuries, then*
*is going to flail her off gently, well, you know, for him, not quite gruff.* Please, don't.
*gives him a little annoyed look* I'm offering, are you going to be so churlish as to refuse me?
Why would you even bother ? *bewildered*
Because I want to.
*a shrug, then /ow/* It's not like I'm anything to you, you don't
really know me.
You don't have to be anything; no one should have to suffer
alone.
*a violent shudder. That reminds him of his brother*
*a blink* --what is it?
*not quite at the ground...* I was the lucky one. *darkly*
*headtilt* *makes another attempt to check for injuries when he's
distracted*
*oh, Faraday!* *he is distracted, though, lost in thought of his
brother's pain*
*will be checking then, looking him over* What do you mean,
you were the lucky one?
*he's mostly bruised all over, and has eodema - it's really a matter of
it going away.* *his face cannot be fixed - because of evil typists*
*siigh, wishes she could do something*
*hugs are nice, though Cara would /never/ ask for one, and probably
protest it.* *is just lost in dark thoughts*
*and she's kind of...uncomfortable doing that* ---sir?
*shakes out of it.* Forgive me.
No, not at all - what is it that troubles you?
*rubs his face absently, and stops halfway, because /ow/* My brother. He was.... taken. *another shudder*
...taken? *and almost a shudder, because - she has some experience with that*
by the darkest being there ever was. *and yes, that's a tear.*
*a blink, and she does shiver* --and?
whatever we did, he has paid a price dearer that he should. He's not bad. He never was a monster. *not like me!*
*a blink* Sir? I don't understand.
*just looks away* I don't deserve any of your kindness.
You let me decide who does and doesn't deserve whatever I have to offer.
you would be kind to a /monster/?
I know monsters. You are not one.
*stubbornly* you do not know me, lady.
I know enough.
*gruffly* And what do you /know/?
That you're not a monster. What happened to your brother?
*not convinced* He was... returned to us. *grimly* what's left of him.
*a slightly shocked expression* ---what's left?
*even darker* the shadow of himself.
---what do you mean? *because that could be interpreted many ways*
I know my brother. He's been driven insane. The damn Morgoth broke his mind. *and is getting angry, and it shows on his face, and /ow/ - which aggravates him more*
The what?
Morgoth. The Enemy. *duh*
I...have never heard that name.
*eyebrows* never? Blessed you are, then.
No, not I.
Anyone who has been spared his shadow is. *darkly*
Will your brother - recover?
I don't know. *miserably*
What do you think?
What do you think of someone who'd rather be dead?
---*understands* What do you mean, what do I think?
*shrug* I mean, do you think it can be cured?
Yes.
..... how? *desperately!*
It's - there needs to be a reason to live.
.... like what? *and this kind of doest not apply to me as well. NOT AT ALL*
Anything! Whatever will do.
...... /whatever?/ *oh cmon, that's not helpful*
A purpose, someone to care for - anything.
He has that. Brothers. He still wants to die.
Why?
...... I don't know.
Well, if you knew that it might help.
*le sigh* Thank you. *a pause.* I must appear so daft to you. *like that idiot Fingon.*
*a blink* ---what?
*still looking at his feet* I call myself a monster, I don't know to deal with my own family, and here I am, being weak at your kind self. Daft. Weak. *unworthy*
---It's - no, don't worry about it.
But why are you so /nice/? I have nothing to offer. *not even beauty anymore*
It's - you don't have to offer anything.
You would be kind to me even though I am hideous and evil? *disbelieving*
You're not hideous and you're not evil. *has seen both!*
I am. *stubbornly*
I've seen both of them and you're neither.
I am. *flatly*
No, you're not. *also flatly*
How do you /know/?
I told you. I've met someone who's a supreme example of both. *snapped*
Someone who killed his own kind and /enjoyed/ it? *because that's what I am!*
--/yes/ now for Artor's sake would you /shut up!/
...... *but that's what I am!!!!* *just a look of angry unhappy frustrated*
*a;sldfysdlafkd* You're /not/ Gorgrael, I know /that/.
No, I am Caranthir, son of Faenor, and I've slain my own kin more than a lady should know.
*flails* Just - /stop./
*frustrated* why? You should know this. *please don't like me. It's not healthy!*
Because - *you're reminding me of things I don't want to think about!* Just don't. Let /me/ worry about who I associate with.
...... *sighs* You really remind me of someone. *yes, fondly*
---excuse me?
You have a firey spirit. *and you're so pertty!*
*is - surprised by that! to say the least*
*smiles, a little.*
--that's not important.
It is. *more quietly than you'll ever hear him*
*blink* --not right now.
*blink* why not?
Because - this isn't about me.
*but you're pretty! And fiery! and good! and you remind me of Haleth!* It's not?
No, it's not.
...... *muttered* sorry. *grumph*
Don't apologize, just - *sldkf*
*confused* just what?
It's - just don't apologize. You don't have to.
But I am troubling you. *so ineffectual with women*
Don't - you're not.
I'm not? *so, so confused.*
No.
Ah. *looks lost, now.*
....*sigh*
*just has no clue what to say at this point. Pretty Edain girl. Haleth memories. This is /flail/ material.*
*is - just frustrated*
*just facepalms. And then ouch again. And then grr because ouch is not cool, which in turn causes another ouch.* *le sigh*
---you need to stop doing that.
doing what? *still confused!*
Wrinkling your face. You're hurting yourself.
Oh. *pause.* *he tries to be stoned face. Doesn't really work.*
*.....facepalm*
.../what now?/ *ouch*
Nothing.
People don't rub their faces without reason. *frown. ouch. whispered profanity*
I had an itch.
*typist is dying, over here* an itch? *doubtfully*
Yes.
I'm sorry. *about the itch, yes.*
Don't worry about it. *not quite primly*
*apparently, apologizing is his defaut with Faraday!* er, alright. *still so, so confused*
*apparently! she's not such a fan of it.*
*what is wrong with my apologies? everytime I apologize to people, they think it's weird!* *has only ever apologized to Angy and Faraday.*
*it's not /him/ necessarily!*
*well, you know. Just aaargh. Maybe not apologizing was a bettere policy.*
*wasn't, definitely!*
*aw dang. That would have been neat*
*so after all that awkward asterisqued silence...* what were we talking about again?
How you're going to let me worry about who I associate with and your brother.
*damn, she remembers* Ah, yes. *and somber mood again*
*gives him a careful look* --not much is really irreparable.
*runs his hands in his hair* I don't know. *this is pretty bad, darling.*
*siiigh* I'm sorry. Even if it doesn't help. I am.
*amused* please don't apologize. *and smiling again. and ow.*
It's all right for me too. It's what people do in this kind of situation .
*frown. Ow.* If I'm not allowed to apologize, neither are you! *arumph. ow.*
That's not how it works.
yes, it is.
Is not.
*saying is too would be, er, yeah. So he just shuts up and looks frustrated. Again.*
*almost amused. almost.*
*oh dear, if he knew that, he'd be even more unable to figure out what to do*
*good thing he doesn't!*
If - just keep trying.
keep trying? *what?*
To help. Your brother. You'll find something.
*sigh* Yes, I pray so. *horrified, still.*
I'm sure.
How do you /know?/ *we're not really big on optimism, here.*
It's just - I have faith.
Faith? *not big on that either, here.*
*a little nod*
...... where d'you get it? *yes, can I have the recipe?*
...life.
..... life? *that might explain it*
Or death, I guess. Either.
*nope, that doesn't explain it.* Dying gave you faith? *wtf? ow.*
It's...hard to explain.
.... give it a shot, please. *because we need to understand, here.*
I...can't. *it's still too close*
*a slight frown, a lesser ow.* why not? *almost gently*
It's - I just can't. *shakes her head*
I'm sorry. *really contrite, here.*
Don't - don't do that.
Apologize? I was indiscreet. It's warranted. *oh, come /on/ !*
I brought it up.
Nonetheless.
What: Flailing, ouching, frowning, awkward silence, and some foreign advice about having hope and faith (huh?)
When: After Cara looked up his broken Cleeg brother
*comes wandering inside from walking across the lawn, just from the lake, seeming rather more cheerful than usual if a bit - distracted*
*Cara will be sitting in the common room, sort of brooding, though he's not talking in caps at this point - he's much too tired of feeling that pain. And yes, he still has that awful scar on his face.*
*comes wandering in and stops, startled!* --sir? *remembers him, and not quite horrified because /ow/ that looks like it hurt*
*he'll sort of start himself, hand going to his sword hilt, and relaxing when he sees her, only to stand and bow stiffly, and very quickly. And then /ow/. That hurt.* Lady.
*flails* --no, don't do that, you're wounded. *goes over, worried* Sit down. What - what happened?
I will be fine, pray not fear on my behalf, lady. *stiffly, but it's because he's nervous.* *he does sit, though - and painfully so.*
*a little slightly annoyed face* Don't be absurd.
*hey! For once that he's being repressed! Damn it!* Alright, it feels just as bad as it looks. Please don't pity me. *gruffly*
I'm not pitying you. I just know a thing or two about tending wounds. *:|*
I'm fine. It's just pain. It's no big deal.
*gives him a bit of a look* *and then backs off* All right. If you say so.
*muttering* it's not like I didn't ask for it.
---*blink*
*oh, she didn't hear it! Good!* Sorry. Makes me cranky. *points at the cheek.* How are you, Lady?
*no, she did hear it, that's why the - stare* ---well enough. *and frowning, now*
*so stiffly because pretty girls make him nervous.* But you are angry with me. Pray forgive me.
I'm not /angry/ with you. You're just - *frustrated noise* *men!*
*just an eyebrow.* *and then /ow/ because even that expression hurts.*
*alsdf -* Let me help.
*no, I deserve to be in pain. I'm a bloody monster, damn it.* it's alright, don't waste your talent on me, please. *still stiff, but it's nervousness, again.*
*just an eyebrow.* *and then /ow/ because even that expression hurts.*
*alsdf -* Let me help.
It'll be fine. Please don't waste your talent on me. *i'm a bloody monster, damn it!*
I don't have any talent, just a little knowledge.
You are too kind. *I don't deserve it!*
No, I'm really not. What's wrong?
Nothing. *and it's almost believable - but he's really an awful liar*
That much is certainly untrue. You're wounded, aren't you?
Actually, technically, I'm dead. *almost amused - hello, dry humor*
---no, you're not.
I guess not anymore. *pause* doesn't it horrify you?
I was dead before I came here. *briskly* Somehow I am not now.
*eyebrow* Sounds like it's just about everyone. *pause* except me. Well, until now.
*a shrug* I don't know.
*is going to be checking for his injuries, then*
*is going to flail her off gently, well, you know, for him, not quite gruff.* Please, don't.
*gives him a little annoyed look* I'm offering, are you going to be so churlish as to refuse me?
Why would you even bother ? *bewildered*
Because I want to.
*a shrug, then /ow/* It's not like I'm anything to you, you don't
really know me.
You don't have to be anything; no one should have to suffer
alone.
*a violent shudder. That reminds him of his brother*
*a blink* --what is it?
*not quite at the ground...* I was the lucky one. *darkly*
*headtilt* *makes another attempt to check for injuries when he's
distracted*
*oh, Faraday!* *he is distracted, though, lost in thought of his
brother's pain*
*will be checking then, looking him over* What do you mean,
you were the lucky one?
*he's mostly bruised all over, and has eodema - it's really a matter of
it going away.* *his face cannot be fixed - because of evil typists*
*siigh, wishes she could do something*
*hugs are nice, though Cara would /never/ ask for one, and probably
protest it.* *is just lost in dark thoughts*
*and she's kind of...uncomfortable doing that* ---sir?
*shakes out of it.* Forgive me.
No, not at all - what is it that troubles you?
*rubs his face absently, and stops halfway, because /ow/* My brother. He was.... taken. *another shudder*
...taken? *and almost a shudder, because - she has some experience with that*
by the darkest being there ever was. *and yes, that's a tear.*
*a blink, and she does shiver* --and?
whatever we did, he has paid a price dearer that he should. He's not bad. He never was a monster. *not like me!*
*a blink* Sir? I don't understand.
*just looks away* I don't deserve any of your kindness.
You let me decide who does and doesn't deserve whatever I have to offer.
you would be kind to a /monster/?
I know monsters. You are not one.
*stubbornly* you do not know me, lady.
I know enough.
*gruffly* And what do you /know/?
That you're not a monster. What happened to your brother?
*not convinced* He was... returned to us. *grimly* what's left of him.
*a slightly shocked expression* ---what's left?
*even darker* the shadow of himself.
---what do you mean? *because that could be interpreted many ways*
I know my brother. He's been driven insane. The damn Morgoth broke his mind. *and is getting angry, and it shows on his face, and /ow/ - which aggravates him more*
The what?
Morgoth. The Enemy. *duh*
I...have never heard that name.
*eyebrows* never? Blessed you are, then.
No, not I.
Anyone who has been spared his shadow is. *darkly*
Will your brother - recover?
I don't know. *miserably*
What do you think?
What do you think of someone who'd rather be dead?
---*understands* What do you mean, what do I think?
*shrug* I mean, do you think it can be cured?
Yes.
..... how? *desperately!*
It's - there needs to be a reason to live.
.... like what? *and this kind of doest not apply to me as well. NOT AT ALL*
Anything! Whatever will do.
...... /whatever?/ *oh cmon, that's not helpful*
A purpose, someone to care for - anything.
He has that. Brothers. He still wants to die.
Why?
...... I don't know.
Well, if you knew that it might help.
*le sigh* Thank you. *a pause.* I must appear so daft to you. *like that idiot Fingon.*
*a blink* ---what?
*still looking at his feet* I call myself a monster, I don't know to deal with my own family, and here I am, being weak at your kind self. Daft. Weak. *unworthy*
---It's - no, don't worry about it.
But why are you so /nice/? I have nothing to offer. *not even beauty anymore*
It's - you don't have to offer anything.
You would be kind to me even though I am hideous and evil? *disbelieving*
You're not hideous and you're not evil. *has seen both!*
I am. *stubbornly*
I've seen both of them and you're neither.
I am. *flatly*
No, you're not. *also flatly*
How do you /know/?
I told you. I've met someone who's a supreme example of both. *snapped*
Someone who killed his own kind and /enjoyed/ it? *because that's what I am!*
--/yes/ now for Artor's sake would you /shut up!/
...... *but that's what I am!!!!* *just a look of angry unhappy frustrated*
*a;sldfysdlafkd* You're /not/ Gorgrael, I know /that/.
No, I am Caranthir, son of Faenor, and I've slain my own kin more than a lady should know.
*flails* Just - /stop./
*frustrated* why? You should know this. *please don't like me. It's not healthy!*
Because - *you're reminding me of things I don't want to think about!* Just don't. Let /me/ worry about who I associate with.
...... *sighs* You really remind me of someone. *yes, fondly*
---excuse me?
You have a firey spirit. *and you're so pertty!*
*is - surprised by that! to say the least*
*smiles, a little.*
--that's not important.
It is. *more quietly than you'll ever hear him*
*blink* --not right now.
*blink* why not?
Because - this isn't about me.
*but you're pretty! And fiery! and good! and you remind me of Haleth!* It's not?
No, it's not.
...... *muttered* sorry. *grumph*
Don't apologize, just - *sldkf*
*confused* just what?
It's - just don't apologize. You don't have to.
But I am troubling you. *so ineffectual with women*
Don't - you're not.
I'm not? *so, so confused.*
No.
Ah. *looks lost, now.*
....*sigh*
*just has no clue what to say at this point. Pretty Edain girl. Haleth memories. This is /flail/ material.*
*is - just frustrated*
*just facepalms. And then ouch again. And then grr because ouch is not cool, which in turn causes another ouch.* *le sigh*
---you need to stop doing that.
doing what? *still confused!*
Wrinkling your face. You're hurting yourself.
Oh. *pause.* *he tries to be stoned face. Doesn't really work.*
*.....facepalm*
.../what now?/ *ouch*
Nothing.
People don't rub their faces without reason. *frown. ouch. whispered profanity*
I had an itch.
*typist is dying, over here* an itch? *doubtfully*
Yes.
I'm sorry. *about the itch, yes.*
Don't worry about it. *not quite primly*
*apparently, apologizing is his defaut with Faraday!* er, alright. *still so, so confused*
*apparently! she's not such a fan of it.*
*what is wrong with my apologies? everytime I apologize to people, they think it's weird!* *has only ever apologized to Angy and Faraday.*
*it's not /him/ necessarily!*
*well, you know. Just aaargh. Maybe not apologizing was a bettere policy.*
*wasn't, definitely!*
*aw dang. That would have been neat*
*so after all that awkward asterisqued silence...* what were we talking about again?
How you're going to let me worry about who I associate with and your brother.
*damn, she remembers* Ah, yes. *and somber mood again*
*gives him a careful look* --not much is really irreparable.
*runs his hands in his hair* I don't know. *this is pretty bad, darling.*
*siiigh* I'm sorry. Even if it doesn't help. I am.
*amused* please don't apologize. *and smiling again. and ow.*
It's all right for me too. It's what people do in this kind of situation .
*frown. Ow.* If I'm not allowed to apologize, neither are you! *arumph. ow.*
That's not how it works.
yes, it is.
Is not.
*saying is too would be, er, yeah. So he just shuts up and looks frustrated. Again.*
*almost amused. almost.*
*oh dear, if he knew that, he'd be even more unable to figure out what to do*
*good thing he doesn't!*
If - just keep trying.
keep trying? *what?*
To help. Your brother. You'll find something.
*sigh* Yes, I pray so. *horrified, still.*
I'm sure.
How do you /know?/ *we're not really big on optimism, here.*
It's just - I have faith.
Faith? *not big on that either, here.*
*a little nod*
...... where d'you get it? *yes, can I have the recipe?*
...life.
..... life? *that might explain it*
Or death, I guess. Either.
*nope, that doesn't explain it.* Dying gave you faith? *wtf? ow.*
It's...hard to explain.
.... give it a shot, please. *because we need to understand, here.*
I...can't. *it's still too close*
*a slight frown, a lesser ow.* why not? *almost gently*
It's - I just can't. *shakes her head*
I'm sorry. *really contrite, here.*
Don't - don't do that.
Apologize? I was indiscreet. It's warranted. *oh, come /on/ !*
I brought it up.
Nonetheless.