(Untitled)

[velesdonnersen]

[He's been worried all day, knowing they've messed things up with Egon, knowing how upset Ilsa is.  He hasn't got her ability to sense feelings, but over time he's begun to pick up her backwash --- her projects have been getting more and more difficult to block out of his awareness.  Today he's been driven half-mad by her misery and guilt.  In

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[ooeeooahah]

[ Ilsa has a briefcase with her, and is being very rigid in posture and speech. Whatever Tarvek is getting is slipping through her shields. ]

Thank you, I-I need a place to stay tonight. Could I stay in the study?

[velesdonnersen]

[Her posture and attitude leave him unsure if he's welcome. He gestures her in, pure Euro, takes her briefcase, sets it by the hall table, and ginger helps her out of her jacket, before ushering her into the den.]

Liebchen, I am... sorry things went so badly this morning. I'm afraid I am not sufficiently adept, especially where Egon is concerned.

[ooeeooahah]

I have managed to convince the drones to stay at their friends' houses tonight, so the house is empty for him. I managed to talk to Peter...

[ She closes her eyes, shaking, before she gets back under control. ]

...and warn him that Egon needed to sleep in the house tonight.

[velesdonnersen]

[Not!Luka comes in with the coffee and cookies. Tarvek walks through the steps of Mayfield etiquette, reminding Not!Luka that "Mrs. Spengler" works with him, that they'll be spending the night in the home office, working late, and not to wait up for him. If Not!Luka was a whole, real person who loved him, the manipulation would make him a bit ill. As it is, it's just the automatic defensive game-playing he grew up with, a constant veil of whatever BS serves to keep minds off of him.]

[When his not!wife leaves, he turns to Ilsa.]

Good. I may find Venkeman difficult to deal with, but he's loyal to Egon. Maybe some time alone, and the knowledge you made the effort, will convince the idiot he's not being attacked. Sweet lightening, but he's...

Eh.

Idiot. He's an idiot.

But you, mein Ilsa...

[Puts arms around her.]

I am so sorry, sweet. It was hard enough having Pyro lost to you, without Egon coming in and proving an insensitive boor with no social skills at all.

[ooeeooahah]

I did not get to speak with Egon. Peter warned me off. I think he was joking about physical harm, but... I don't know him well enough to - to know if he would joke about psychological trauma...

[ Ilsa manages to keep things under control until the last of it. ]

I didn't mean to... I wasn't...

[ The rest is lost as she curls in on herself, crying silently. ]

[velesdonnersen]

[Oh, dear. He's trying so hard not to smash her with backwash of his own, but her self-abuse is flipping circuits and blowing out fuses like no one's business. He sweeps her up, and proceeds to coil them both together on the sofa

[ooeeooahah]

[ It takes a while for her to wind down, and calm herself. In doing so, some of it leaks through her shields to him. When she is finally able to breathe normally, she starts to speak, softly. ]

This... situation is...

Do you remember our conversation on Mother's Day? About the things my father's side of the family deals with?

If what Peter told me is accurate, it's my worst nightmare. This is... possibly the horrendous thing that could have happened. Violating two oaths with one conversation. "To do good, or to do no harm" and "An that ye harm none, do as thou will" are tenets I swore to uphold, and apparently they've gone out the window.

[ She falls quiet and tucks her head into his shoulder. ]

[velesdonnersen]

[Picky-picky-picky: what what you say to hyper-rational over-thinking madboys....]

No, technically both oaths focus on failing to do harm, and if they're so loose that they hold you accountable to the degree that you're supposed to be able to second guess idiots who throw themselves in front of your wheels... repeatedly... then the oaths need work, not you.

Ilsa, you were trying, intelligently, to do no harm to Egon. He's the one who insisted on being damaged, to the point of turning your attempt to not-hurt him into a high-impact event.

When the bunny throws itself in front of the horses, don't blame the hooves.

[ooeeooahah]

...still feels like I failed.

[velesdonnersen]

[Wraps her in the only thing he has: he does all he can to make sure his heart is SHOUTING how much he believes she did well and right, and that the failure is not hers.]

[Kisses her temple.]

Want a scotch?

[ooeeooahah]

Yeah, I think I do.

[ She sounds tired. ]

[velesdonnersen]

[Slips up from the sofa, and finds the scotch and glasses, then asks,]

Sorry, do you want it straight up, on ice, or would you like it in a cup of coffee?

[He's collecting everything he might need that is already in the den. He glances, up, and then says, softly,]

You are staying over, aren't you? The drone family won't notice or care, so long as we're not too obvious.

[ooeeooahah]

I'm tempted to just ask for the bottle, but neat will do.

[ Ilsa sighs at his last question. ]

Yes, if you don't mind... I cleared the house so he wouldn't have to deal with anything.

[velesdonnersen]

[He knows she's sad, but he's pleased. Her distaste for the drones keeps her from his place much of the time, and their moments together are usually in her domain...but he rather likes having her in His Dominion where He Can Take Care of Her. (He really is a terrible Victorian Europan male aristo in some ways

[ooeeooahah]

Please don't... there's good there, just that he hasn't developed it yet.

[ She sips the scotch this time, savoring the burn. ]

... tell me?

[ Ilsa leans her head against his shoulder. ]

[velesdonnersen]

[His conscious mind is focused on Egon. His subconscious is the part that's seriously burbling over Aaronev. Her question first just puzzles him