Yes, it was inappropriate.
Yes, he was supposed to be resting.
Yes, he'd been told by the doctor not to strain his wings yet.
Yes, he'd completely ignored all of that.
Why?
He couldn't get that woman, the falcon, out of his mind. He kept thinking about her, about how sad she'd been, and how lost. How horribly upset she was that, as a falcon, she would choose to commit suicide by falling to her death. How she completely confused him, and none of it made sense. She was built like a human, with solid bones, but he knew a falcon when he saw one. If you knew what you were looking for, it was impossible to miss. More difficult to determine was why he'd sought her out. Perhaps it was because he truly, honestly cared to make sure she was keeping her promise, and talk to her. Maybe it was because she intrigued him and he wanted to know the answers to his questions. Either way, he'd used the contacts he had to track her down. He knew her name, where she lived, and even got a little photo of her to confirm that it was the right person. His contacts were surprisingly low on information, though. He'd have to figure it out himself.
No, he hadn't told Avalon.
No, he hadn't told any of the other guards.
No, he didn't intend to change that.
He really couldn't have said exactly what he expected when he landed on the windowsill outside of her home to peek inside, but he was worried that just walking up and knocking on the door might be a bit too blatant in the event that anyone was watching, and he needed to stretch his aching wings, regardless of what some doctor said. He tapped on the glass with his beak, peeking in and tilting his head curiously as he watched to see if she'd appear.
Amaltheia had been laying in bed for a long time, staring at her ceiling as her radio played, the colours of the equalizer bathing her darkened walls in a soft blue glow.
I was five, and he was six
We rode on horses made of sticks
He wore black and I wore white
He would always win the fight...
Bang bang.. he shot me down
Bang bang.. I hit the ground..
The music truly was the only sound for a long time as she remained silent, willing herself not to cry. She was drowning in memories, in her distant memories. She felt like she was forgetting what Aeson looked like, or what it felt like to experience sunrise on the island, what the sound of the water was like...
She could remember well the merciful way they disposed of her, though.
She rose in her nightgown and released an angry sigh as she headed for the door of her bedroom. Fingers grasped it and pulled, and brought her ghostly form into the darkened hallway and further into the living room. Curtains were barely parted - Amaltheia usually had them pinned shut, but she had gone straight to the bath when she'd arrived and had neglected them for the time being.
The fabric of her nightgown was both sheer and opaque, with thin straps and a modest cut at her knees, though the back plunged low, revealing only the faintest pearlescent scars that a mortal might just overlook. She stood in the living room, hair twined up by her hands and allowed herself a brief moment of peace. Her pale skin and hair contrasted against the white of the silk and the moonlight that bathed her figure now rendered her more like a ghost than a woman. Times like these she truly did resemble Aleya, her former self.
And then there came the tapping. The rapping at her window.
She turned slowly, trembling now. Had they come? Had they finally come to finish the job? Had they decided to relieve her of her punishment and just end this?
But no, on closer examination, there was a black bird at her window, and Amaltheia, who had certainly not been raised in traditional Avian ways, went to it before she thought to fetch her robe. She slung it open and fixed her mismatched eyes down at the raven.
"So, we meet again prince," she said softly. She said nothing more, but instead moved to accomidate him as he would inevitably fly through the window. Or he could sit on the ledge longer, but Theia wouldn't keep that window open forever.
He wasn't about to sit on the ledge any longer than he had to, but when he hopped off of the windowsill to flap further into her home, he was sure to land in an area that had less visibility from any of the windows before he shifted back to his demi-form. It made him feel exposed, walking around with his wings visible in this world of ignorant humans, but it was also a rather comfortable state to live in. Right then, it was just nice to give those wings a final stretch and fold them rather carefully against his back. They were still sore, even if he wasn't about to say anything about it.
"It's good to see that you're well, Lady Monarch," he told her, unable to really help the formality, and he was sure to keep his eyes firmly on her face and her own eyes, rather than letting them wander as his initial reaction had been. He'd been unable to stop himself, but he'd been embarrassed by his own actions and now averted his eyes from her rather beautiful, and a bit too visible, figure. "I apologize for not introducing myself sooner. I'm Brennan Shardae, Captain of the Royal Flight."
He punctuated the introduction with a very short sort of bow, and continued. "Forgive me, but I had to pry somewhat into your affairs to find you. I was worried, given our last...meeting."
"My affairs," she stated, voice somewhat monotone. She noticed how careful he was being not to stare, and she realized that she was perhaps too unashamed for her own good. She felt her cheeks redden a little, though it was more embarassment for him than for herself.
"Excuse me a moment," she said briskly. As she turned, she was again captured in the patch of light, her back exposed to him. The aforementioned scars were something he may or may not take notice of, but Theia was quick in her movements, and vanished into the darkened doorway of her room before a word was said. When she returned, she was wrapped in fine white silk, and the robe had been tied.
"So, little Raven," she said softly, crossing her arms and giving him one of those distrustful looks that she was so prone to. "Why have I worried you so far away from home?"
She wasn't sure if he knew what she was, or what she had been, or anything else about her. She didn't know how much he had to dig up, but he knew the surname she had chosen, and that was enough to make her wary. If he called her Aleya, she'd kill him.
He made the mistake of thinking that she was embarrassed for herself when she noticed his reaction to her appearance and flushed, but it wasn't really a mistake that seemed about to cause him any amount of grief. Just an innocent difference in culture, right?
Really, the difference was what they thought was appropriate, since Brennan, like nearly any man, couldn't really stop his eyes from wandering occasionally, and that happened to be the case when she turned around to leave the room. "Of course," he told her quickly. He'd intended to avert his eyes once more, but instead found something of interest there. It looked like scars. Two of them, in fact, with a rather...intriguing design to them. Unfortunately, he had a very limited chance to examine them before she was gone, though they could potentially help in his understanding of the situation. While she put on her robe and returned, he couldn't resist analyzing the details available to him in his mind.
"You were very...upset the last time I saw you," he said carefully, that wary look of hers putting him on his guard a bit. "I wanted to see how you were now."
That was the truth, or at least, the closest he was going to get to it right then. What he really meant was that he'd been thinking about her ever since and couldn't get her out of his mind, but he was too much a proper gentleman to tell her that. He really shouldn't have been in her home right then, but there were too few choices in that department. "Perhaps I might even come to understand what happened."
Anger flickered beneath the quiet, calm surface that Amaltheia wore, and she walked towards Brennan swiftly, bringing herself only inches from his face, and was slightly surprised by the fact that she had not managed to walk him into the wall. It was no matter.
"You seem fond of that word, understand, as though you truly could," she said, almost fondly, sadly, and rose fingers to touch his dark hair again, as though it was a curiosity. She pulled away suddenly, and went to her kitchen, removing a pitcher of water from the fridge and pouring herself a glass. She offered some to him.
"Why did you really come, little Raven?" she demanded, watching him cautiously. Even in this shape, she still had distant echos of her former self, all full of grace and beauty. "What do you know?"
Her words seemed almost sharp, especially with the way she'd so suddenly invaded his space, but he found that he could handle her potential anger better than that fond, sad way of speaking she had, or the way she reached up to touch him. He wasn't used to having someone so close to him, or being touched by anyone other than Avalon, but he could handle anger. That was something he could take defensive measures against, but he was lost about the rest of it.
"I came here to attempt to understand," he told her honestly, not really sure why he followed her to her kitchen, but he had, only to accept the glass of water and watch her without really thinking about it. It was impossible not to see what she was, if only because of her grace and beauty, even if something wasn't quite right. He'd never looked at another woman other than Avalon, but he'd also never met someone like her.
"You're a falcon, aren't you?" he asked, only being so straightforward because she'd asked. He thought he already knew the answer, but he wasn't sure of the specifics. "But your bones aren't hollow like mine are, and you have an interesting set of scars. If you don't mind my asking, what happened?"
It was very personal, but it was something that had been bothering him. He just didn't want to ask her why she was trying to kill herself, and made the error of thinking it was better to ask what had happened than why she'd jumped.
"The ever-wise mercy of the Empress, my little Raven," she replied, as if that answered his question in the entirety. If he knew -anything- of the Falcons, he would know what she meant. Theia was not ready to delve into her memories, not just yet, and so she concentrated on her cold water a moment longer before putting the glass to the side of the sink.
It was strange how she addressed him - if Brennan thought that even giving her his rightful name would change what she did, he would be wrong. Theia still retained certain mannerisms, and she would address whomever she saw fit with whatever she had chosen, damned if anyone would instruct her otherwise. But he was her little Raven, or simply prince, although he would find himself less fond of this term as there was a certain threat of acid to her voice.
"Do you know how many have seen those scars and looked on? Why do you see them? What do you think happened? What do you think I am?" she asked. She remained even in tone, never betraying that secretly she was aching for him to tell her who and what she was.
He couldn't tell her who she was, not the way she wanted him to, and simply because he didn't know. All he knew was the name she'd been using most recently -- Amaltheia Monarch. The name wasn't very helpful, but he had enough from what she'd said and what he'd figured out for himself that he could basically guess. The scars probably meant she'd been stripped of her ability to fly, and shift, but she still wasn't JUST a human. That much was obvious to him, but he didn't know the extent of it. He'd heard enough about the falcons to know that they were supposed to have very strong magic, and most organized shifter societies had a way of exiling those that were deserving of the punishment. Among the avians it was removal of the pinfeathers to ensure the person could no longer take their other form, but Amaltheia's scars didn't look like she'd just had her pinfeathers clipped.
Even better was that he had no idea WHY she would have been exiled. It could be something relatively harmless to him, or something that made her quite the threat, yet he was still willing to take the risk.
"You were exiled," he said, that being the only logical answer, but it was odd that they hadn't killed her as well. That was the common practice, even if modern times had caused punishments to grow lighter. "But you're a falcon. Even without your wings, it's impossible to think you're anything else. Why were you exiled?"
"Yes, my little Raven, but do you know how long ago?" she asked, the question posed so innocently and yet so utterly twisted with hatred that at made her unable to look at him for a moment. So very long ago... Aleya had been stripped of her power and status only seconds before she had been stripped of her wings. Perhaps they really thought she had died, after all this time, but it was something the Empress had not mentioned in the court as she had heard it - even in the bastardized versions of Aleya's story, or so the books said, she had been slain.
The reality was eternal damnation in this shell. Oh, she could die, just as surely as anyone else could, but she would not die of age. Appearance altered just enough to drive the girl mad, as she would always see a duality of reflections in the mirror, the Empress had been maddened with rage when the Falcon's own magic refused to be bound so completely. Amaltheia secretly thought that was the real reason she hadn't just been killed, because she had resisted - even though she had not.
She seemed to avoid the why, but it was mostly because she didn't feel like he deserved to know. What had he done, but stop her from silencing her tears? And now he was in her home, throwing absurd questions at her as though she owed him explinations. She leveled her gaze at him, a gaze that easily could have brought mortals to their knees at one point in time, but now it was nothing more than a hard stare accompanied by a very deafening silence.
"How did you know what I am? How can you tell?" Nevermind that he had probably, in his position, been trained to recognize any and all threats (and the Falcons would always be a threat to.. well, everything).
Her first question halted him, and not simply because of what she as asking. True, that was part of it, as it sounded like one of those loaded questions that he could never get right, but there was also something ominous about her tone. It seemed so harmless, but there was a sense of something unpleasant beneath that. He didn't mention the fact that she'd avoided his question.
As an explanation as to how he'd known what she was, he could have told her nearly half a dozen different things. There was her eye, the way she moved, everything about her that a trained eye could have recognized, but those weren't what cemented it in his mind.
"Your voice. It gives you away," he told her, slowly beginning to wonder if he really should have come. It may not have been the smartest thing he'd ever done, particularly because he hadn't informed anyone else of his whereabouts.
She sighed. "I won't hurt you. Stand down, Raven," she spoke, her tone soft, yet commanding. "If anyone came through those doors, you would be the least of their worries, I can assure you." She clipped past him into the living room, and sat down on the white couch, still bathed in darkness, though there was enough light from the small bulb above the sink in the kitchen to illuminate enough to see.
"Does anyone else know?" she asked after a pause. Amaltheia didn't feel too keenly about the news being spread that she was trapped like this. She could only imagine what a price that might fetch, especially for someone who was zealous enough to try and undo her binding (which was impossible as far as she knew) and use her for their own purposes.
Brennan believed her when she said that he would be the least of any intruder's worries, but that naturally made him wonder what she'd do. Did she still possess her fearsome magic even in exile? He'd have assumed they'd strip he of it, but he'd never met a falcon who'd endured such a punishment, so he wouldn't know.
Dangerous or not, she said she wouldn't hurt him, and he followed her into the other room, though he remained standing on the other side of her living room.
"I told no one, I promise. Your secret is safe," he told her softly, thinking back to Avalon. He should have told her, as it was his duty to always be honest with her, but this was one thing he'd gotten the feeling he shouldn't share. At least not until he was better informed, or so he told himself.
He'd probably never be well-informed on this topic.
"Good." Her words, her very voice, seemed less sad, and so much more finite and commanding. It seemed to fade away, however, as she looked back up to him. With the voice mirrored her entire body, and she softened visably, leaning back a little, as though she was actually relaxing.
"Do you even know why you are here?" she asked curiously. She had long lost the ability to read minds, but she knew a confused man when she saw one. He intrigued her a little, mostly because it was quite backwards for the prince to be here, with her, quarter to midnight, instead of at home with his Tuuli Thea to be. She wondered how much he resisted himself in making this flight.
It was almost startling, hearing her voice change from that sad, nearly ethereal sound to a drastically more solid and commanding tone, but he had enough military training in him that instead of being startled, he straightened simply out of habit. He relaxed ever so slightly when she did, but not nearly enough. He didn't know what to do about her, or with her, or anything. He was here, he'd gotten some of his answers, and he was almost just as confused as before. Now what? She was potentially dangerous, he really shouldn't be there, but he wanted to be. He was interested in learning more about her, even if he shouldn't be. It wasn't right.
"Not really," he admitted, sighing some and relaxing a bit more with the confession. "I wanted to know who you were, and now I don't know what to do with that knowledge."
Somehow, it felt wrong to just ask his questions and leave.
She considered this and then looked back up at him, voicing her previous thoughts. "It must have taken a great deal of consideration before you decided to come. What is it like to ignore absolutely every single value that's been instilled in you?" She wasn't trying to be antagonistic, not really. She just wondered how it felt for someone else this time.
She settled back on the couch. "Can you sit, or must you loom like some dark depressing confused cloud?" Now she was taunting him, but not too much. There was even a hint of a smile at her lips, but it was gone as fast as it had come.
Actually, he'd had to avoid thinking too much about what he was doing in order to come, and what she had to say really wasn't comforting. He'd tried to tell himself that he was investigating a potential threat, or that it was in Avalon's best interest that he know who this strange woman was, or any number of things that involved knowledge being for the best, but Amaltheia made it so easy to make him doubt even himself. She was right, in the end. He'd dismissed everything he'd ever known just to come see her. What had he been thinking?
He clenched his jaw at her way of offering him a place to sit, but he wasn't there to argue, at the very least. He could sit and see what would be said before he had to leave. "I can't stay long," he told her as he sat down deliberately in the recliner opposite the couch. Even if he'd already messed up just by showing up, he could avoid being too inappropriate by sitting beside her on the couch.
"I didn't ask you to," she said matter-of-factly, though with those large blinking eyes, it was obvious that again, she wasn't trying to be hateful. Sometimes the things people said confused her - she still had that Falcon attitude, that 'Why do I care what you're doing/thinking/saying and why are you explaining things to me I will never need to know?' sort of behaviour.
"You didn't answer my question," she pressed. She straightened her robe and watched him like, for lack of a better word, a hawk. She was still so intense, even with no fancy clothing or makeup, or even magic. The residue that had stained her eye when it left her body was all that remained of any power Aleya had.
No, he hadn't answered her question, but that was mostly because he really didn't know what to say. It was such a loaded question, just having to admit anything, and it was a very personal question even for someone he knew well to ask. Having a relative stranger ask it was extremely inappropriate. Of course, just his presence there was exactly that. She didn't need to ask a question to make it so.
"It's...confusing. I shouldn't be here, but I wanted to know..." Know what? Lots of things. About her, her reasons for jumping, just her. She was interesting, highly intriguing, and there was an element of the forbidden here that was both frightening and tantalizing. He wanted to know more, and at the same time knew he really shouldn't. That didn't mean he didn't want to, and that made it more confusing. He didn't usually have a want that didn't coincide with Avalon's wants, but he somehow didn't think she wanted him to talk to this woman, and he couldn't help wanting to. It wasn't like he wanted to leave Avalon for her, but he wanted to just know more about her. It wasn't anything like his love for his wife and Tuuli Thea.
It was all entirely different.
"What?" she prompted as he trailed off. She kept that intense gaze on him, unblinking as she tended to do. She was so harsh in her mannerisms without meaning to, so utterly desensitized and unfeeling.
And yet, there were times where you knew she was as fragile as blown glass.
"Want to know what?" She broke her gaze finally to look away at the clock, and then settled back on him, though the intensity had been replaced with emptiness. It was a good thing; her gaze tended to make one think they'd get a hole burned into them. Now that she'd sort of glossed it over, well, she looked almost.... normal. Human.
But not.
Uncomfortable? That was an understatement with her staring at him like that. Even when she looked away and returned her gaze to him with that empty look, it wasn't right. There was something very...unusual about her, and all he could attribute it to was that she was, or had been, a falcon. Were they all like this?
"You," he answered abruptly, and he somewhat regretted it afterwards. That was far too forward of him. "I don't understand it, but I want to know more about you."
He stopped, not really sure what else to say, but one question had stood out to him, and after having dove through the window and nearly lost his OWN wings, he wanted to know. She'd lost her wings. If he had, how would he have reacted? He'd have been useless to Avalon without them, his whole life would have been gone in an instant. Would he have wanted to jump, just as Amaltheia had? Was that the reason she had? "Why did you jump?"
She seemed confused by his question. "I don't understand," she said sharply. "Why would I not jump?" There was a harsh silence as she let the question hang in the air, and she might have been aiming to make him feel stupid, but since he didn't know the answer there, either, it probably didn't do much except confuse him more.
"Have you ever been to shm'Ahnmik?" she asked. She tilted her head. "Of course not," she wrapped up quickly, rolling her eyes. Now she felt stupid for asking that. "It's like... " she struggled to put it into words, and as she did so, she formed her hands like she was holding a ball, and began to flex her fingers as she tried to think of how to explain it.
Her head snapped up, and she knew. "Think of your mate; your Tuuli Thea. Think of your family. Think of your friends, siblings, your home, everything you've ever known. Everything you've ever loved."
When she was satisfied she had him in a happy place of thought, she pressed her hands together and looked pointedly at him. "Now kill them. That? That is what I feel every day. The memory never goes away. It never gets any easier. It's relentless, their magic. They made it so I was unable to forget, unable to shut it out."
She stared at him, expression blank, but eyes fully alive and angry.
"That answer your question good enough, little bird?"
It was much like he'd assumed would have happened to him if he'd lost his wings, really. They might have let him hang around just because he was married to Avalon, but he'd be totally useless and constantly reminded of everything he'd lost in that situation. Would he want to jump? Would that be enough to make life seem unworthy of living?
And would he really be so ironic as to jump off of a building?
He supposed he could see how it made sense that she'd want to fall to her death, but he didn't know if he'd want his last memory to be of falling instead of flying. It just somehow seemed...wrong.
"Do you regret that I stopped you?" he returned instead of answering her question, with just a little more force to his voice for her calling him 'little bird'. He already broke plenty of rules, so why not be direct at this point? He wanted to know if he could have lost his own wings for no reason.
She made a noise that sounded like a laugh, but was biting and cold. "I do not regret something I did not do, little. Bird." she said, her voice clipping and hollow. She deliberately put emphasis on the last part, knowing that he raised his voice to her, in defiance, to HER. He would not be called little, not by this powerless, empty relic, a shell of magics long lost.
Amaltheia, however, knew better. She knew better than to let him speak to her in such a way, knew how to rattle his cage. She moved around the room, until she was directly in front of him, in front of his face, and bent down so that she could meet his eyes.
"The question is rather, do you regret stopping me?" she asked, voice barely a whisper. "Do you regret, now that you know that it was the only way to silence the pain?" She stepped back, voice raising to a normal tone again, and yet still as before, as it always was - cold.
"Or do you enjoy it?"
His eyes narrowed at her insistence upon calling him that, but he recovered and schooled his expression into something more detached, falling back on the avian reserve he should have displayed the entire time. He made it a point not to react to her invading his space, despite the fact that he didn't like it.
"I don't regret stopping you. My intention was to save your life, or what remains of it, and I accomplished that. I'm sorry if you dislike that I did it, but I don't enjoy or regret it," he told her, and he meant it. It didn't make him happy to know she was suffering, but that he could stop her from doing something so destructive and final was fine with him. Nothing could be done for her if she was dead, but there was always a chance, even if it was minute, as long as she was alive.
"Is there nothing you find worth living for?"
Amaltheia just stared at him, and though her disbelief couldn't really be expressed through her non-expressive features at the moment, it was still there, in her mind. Was he truly this stupid? She couldn't seem to make him understand. She didn't know what else to say.
"This world suffocates me. I was most high, powerful and graceful, revered in my family above all others. I sat at the right hand of the Empress. I wielded a power so great and terrifying it could break your heart, and all this in a place so beautiful that if mortal eyes beheld it they would simply turn to dust." She paused, staring at Brennan now. She wanted to strike him, but she was so frail. It would do no good.
"And now it is gone; or if it isn't, I don't know where to find it. I have tried looking years in years passed, but I have found it fruitless and wasteful. It will benefit me nothing, give me no release. They made it so. They trapped me in this shell, in this misery, with these memories, so that I would never recover. Every day I wake up and it feels like the first time I awoke after my punishment so long ago."
She stared at him now, eyes bright with anger. It was a good thing she was bound tighter than a nun's panties, because if she'd had any ounce of power, Brennan would have been in danger. As it stood, she was simply a thin, 'mortal' girl.
"Is that reason enough for you, Alistair? Or should I go on?"
He actually believed her when she spoke of her home, and knew he had no frame of reference for any such thing, but that didn't mean he was useless or 'inferior'. He believed she'd been powerful, could see that she was still graceful, but the fact of the matter was that it was done. There was nothing either of them could do about it.
"I understand that, or perhaps I don't, but I'm trying. You're still doing exactly what they want, though. It may seem like us mortals are too inferior for your attention, but how are those who caused you such sorrow worthy?" Maybe it wouldn't make sense to her, or maybe he was just stupid to her problems, but he didn't see how dwelling on the issue would do anything other than cause her to suffer and them to win. If someone had attacked him as such, he'd have fought simply out of spite. Of course, if Avalon had thrust him away, then it may have been a different story, but he wouldn't give her a reason to. He loved her, and he wanted to keep her safe.
As fast as lightning, Theia hurled a glass in his general direction. "Your questions BORE me, little raven," she screamed. "You keep asking them, over and over again, and I cannot make you understand what this is LIKE. As I have said, EVERY DAY I wake up and I find out ALL OVER AGAIN that this is my reality now, THIS. This PRISON. ForEVER."
She tore at her hair for a moment and then looked at him strangely, head tilted at an awkward angle. "You would never know, never experience this pain so heavy unless someone took your life from you and then reminded you of it every second of every day. Should I go to your Tuuli Thea and tell her, then, of your designs? That you have tasted the lips of a grounded Falcon? How would she react? I know in my court well that things are not as open as they appear; I can only imagine your strict avian laws would frown greatly upon this."
She narrowed her eyes at him. It was plain to see that Amaltheia had taken the verbal gloves off.
No, he obviously DIDN'T understand. Trying to talk to her about it was apparently useless, since she'd had so much time to make up her mind what she thought about it. He still thought she was dwelling too much on her past, and needed to try to move on, but that was probably hypocritical of him, since he couldn't honestly say he wouldn't brood if he lost it all.
He did try not to be too much of a hypocrite, too.
"Well, then I'm sorry I bore you. Perhaps I'll just leave you to your enthralling television progr--" That was as far as he got before he just STOPPED. He simply shut up, stopped talking, and first stared at her disbelievingly, then narrowed his own eyes.
"Do you think she'd believe you over me? Would it really make you happier to do that to me?" he demanded, actually angry because she even made the threat. It wasn't like he'd made any move to touch her, anyway. She'd kissed him before he even had a chance to react. Maybe he deserved to suffer for leaving her on this Earth, but he wasn't going to beg her not to tell. He was far too proud for that, and it would take more abuse than she'd dished out to have him begging anything of her. He could explain everything to Avalon.
She looked confused. "I do not say these things to make myself happy. I would say them to make you understand. You cannot truly know this until you meet this, and to meet this point, you'd simply have to lose all you had. You cannot presume to know anything about me, or this situation, not until you are down here with me."
She shook her head. "I do nothing for my own pleasure, little bird. For my curiosity, for my advancement, or perhaps just for my own unexplainable logic. But none of it pleases me. And as for your Avalon? The fact that you even counter my statement with one so bold as you own tells me that you don't perhaps... believe that she will believe you."
She chose not to be spiteful but rather uncaring again, cold. Unfeeling. Unlike Brennan she had a trained repetoire when it came to showing your opponent that you didn't care. To have behaved any other way might have inflated his ego, and quite frankly, it didn't need to expand any, not this night or any other. Brennan was looking for logic, for reason in her actions. By telling him that she would have dimed him out simply to make him understand should have been enough alone to make his head spin around.
Maybe she was right, and he wasn't sure if she'd believe him. He could never know because that sort of a situation had never come up. Why would it? He'd never even considered another woman, but he somehow found himself wondering if he ever even would have considering Theia. He couldn't say that he would have, not when he was content with his life as it was, and that was perhaps the most bitter thought involved in the scenario where she told on him.
"I would never quite be 'down here' with you, I'm afraid. I would never put another in a situation I abhorred simply to make them understand. Of course, we already know I don't understand you well enough to judge that," he replied haughtily, making his own attempt at not caring. Avian Reserve was built for this, but this was probably a sign that he should leave, really. He needed to know if she was going to say anything now, though.
"Your cool manners betray you, bird," she purred, watching him as he made motions to leave. "Whereas you were raised to temper all emotions and maintain a level of peace and reserve, I was raised to fake every emotion I had in place of one. What does one do when the lines begin to blur, I wonder? I don't think your tight-lipped expression with your nose in the air would be of any help."
She stared witheringly at him from the couch, but seemed otherwise to be done for now. She made a motion to the door. "Leave if you must. I am sure your mate is worried sick of your whereabouts."
"You were raised to fake all of your emotions?" he asked suddenly, hesitating. Did that mean? Had she faked it all after he'd caught her? Had that sadness been real, or had she just been playing with him? Had anything she'd shown him been real?
By her own words, he had no way of knowing. That was disconcerting. The avian people weren't at all open about their emotions, but at least those subtle changes were real.
"Was any of it true, then? When we went through the window, was any of that emotion real, or did you fake it all?" he asked, his tone borderline demanding. He didn't like being played with. "Is it all just some game to you?"
"I guess you'll just have to wonder," she said. "Now get out." Theia was done with this unamusing Avian. He was stupid and base, and not worthy of her company any longer. She rose, and walked to the door, pointedly, opening it.
"Out," she said again. She leveled her multi-coloured gaze on him.
So he'd either irritated or angered her to the point that she'd send him away, and he actually smiled slowly at that. He had the feeling this wasn't a faked emotion. Something he'd said or done had made the 'game' no fun for her, and that was fine with him.
He'd never been a man who was fond of such things.
"Of course," he said simply, not hesitating in taking his leave, though he shot her a last glance, still unable to stop himself from being intrigued by her. "Good night, then."
He shifted and took flight the very second he was out the door, trying to lessen the chances of being recognized if anyone WAS watching.