House Call.

[channe]

It is quite obvious that Agnieszka is torn, sad, terrified -- all emotions she wouldn't show in front of just anyone. Her family. Glenn, perhaps. But a friend? Even one as close as Aleksei?

"I'm not all right. That's never happened," she says, quietly. "Hearing someone else. I've never had that happen. It's always just me." She doesn't have a scientific mind, to be sure, but this intrigues her; she blinks away the feelings and the summer sun and draws herself back behind her self-built wall. A few seconds later, she drags herself back to ramrod-straighteness, and something snaps into place behind her eyes, and she steps forward again, one hand out. Not trembling. Not one bit.

Agnieszka Kaczmarek hasn't felt like that since that fateful night in the Wailing Towers.

"I can't tell you. I can't." A pause, a deep breath. Moving forward in inches, as if she's standing in front of a cliff and daring the abyss to take her. "But I can show you."

[BetaFlame]

He steps forward and just nods to her. "My.. mind is different Agnie. You know what they did to me. It takes.. a great deal of discipline to be what I am. There is a lot to my mind, and its strong. That might be why. I can surpress the darker side, though."

He just gives her a smile, and set the staff on the ground before stepping closer to her, hand hovering inches from hers, close enough for her to feel the warmth of his skin. "If you are sure, then show me Agnie." His eyes never leave hers as he drops his hand into hers.

It all flashes back, but the seething violence that was under it all is even more suppressed than it was.

His mind is Order. But its not natural. Its.. imposed. There is chaos there, but Aleksei reshapes it, turning it into what he wants. He refuses to be constrained by what he was born into. He will be what he wants. But now is thoughts are.. on her. And there is a mess there. Feelings for her he barely recognizes, and definitely has no idea what to do with. He's never sorted and faced these, afraid of where that path would lead them.

But there is still the feeling of Light and Warmth there inside him, overshadowing it all. A protector inside him. It.. stays away from the link, so as not to bleed its own feelings to Agnie, but there is an awareness of what happens that translate to the woman Aleksei has chosen to share with.

[channe]

But this isn't a dark side.

There is no maliciousness behind what's just under Agnieszka's skin. This is just what is.

The Wailing Towers.

The grand, clawing towers of Chedwry's palace, brilliantly lit by the stars on this gorgeous night, the ocean slamming against the stone walls below, the hundreds of black-clad King's Own drawing together in close quarters. The dead girl on the slab. The argument: did she want this? Dare we? She saved Him. But she had no say.

The decision.

She had been buried as if she were the King's Own. No coffin. Ivory-white skin against brown-black earth. The worms worrying at her ears and her mouth and her fingers. Days and days of it, and there's enough of the soul left that it's what she remembers. Not the brilliant gold of the heavenly host. Not the Light and the Warmth and the Order of Things. No, she belongs instead to the Darkness. To the section of the King's Own that knew their responsibility for each life taken, who could feel what it was like with every step, who cried blood-tears with their victims --

And then there is a breath that shouldn't be, there on the wet, cold terrace at the top of the Flagellant's Tower -- and --

She lets go.

Stares at him.

"I can't," she says, and turns, and stumbles backward, making to run away.

[BetaFlame]

His eyes are open, and he sees her images transposed over her form. He takes the the entire scene that unfolds before him, watching and understanding. Her soul never left. It was trapped in her body, alive and not in the same moment. What torture that must have been. To know you are dead, but be trapped there to feel the death of it.

There is no fear from him, no revulsion, no hatred of what she is, what she has gone through. He knows. He understands, and he just offers her compassion.

Then she is pulling away from him and making to run away. No, not this time. He steps after her, hand moving to seize her by her sleeve, careful not to touch her skin. Not for his sake, but -hers-. "Don't Agnie. Don't run. Stay with me." He knew part of her truth now, just as she knew part of his. He feels strongly about this. There is a reason for it all. Everything. There is a pattern to life. He came to Myrken. He met Agnie. He helped her with one part of her past, and now he can do it again. Was this why he was driven here? Driven to stay here?

She might break his arm if he does grab her sleeve, but its worth the risk, just to keep her from fleeing all the godsbedamned time.

[channe]

They both have violence running so shallowly under their skin -- his from the demon, hers from being born a Myrkenite. He's seen how she's reacted to people who have tried to touch her in the past. He's experienced it. He'll have to deal with it again now.

She's fast. She's always been fast. She twists, making an attempt to grab his arm and twist it down, enough so that it will hurt, but not enough to break it. "I said, don't touch me. And this was a mistake. I need to go."

[BetaFlame]

He grunts, but doesn't even resist as she twists him. He steps with it, and grits his pain. Pain is nothing. Pain is a fact of life. "Why? Because its easier to run. Its safer than letting someone close? You aren't the only one with black in their past." He steps closer, lip curling for a moment before he seems to .. embrace the pain from it. Much more and he will break his own arm. Oh, if only she knew more of that violence in his head.

"I sheltered you from the worst in my head. You think I am too weak to handle this? Or are you too afraid to let me see?" His eyes don't waver from hers. What's pain, anyway? Its just a mental response to your body being damaged. Enough discipline, and you can ignore that. His voice is edged with it. She even has his arm that was smashed by Aeryn. He's tried everything with Agnie, and its all backfired. Its time to stop being -nice-.

[channe]

"I let someone close, and you know what happened," she says, and her voice is dark. Someone, she means, who was not blood. Someone who was not bound as close as Glenn Burnie.

Someone new.

"All I do is fall for men who have demons in their brains. I don't care how strong you think you are. I don't care that you're a fuckin' Knight of Rodel. Aeryn thought he was beyond bein' hurt, too." Ah -- we're getting to the heart of the matter, aren't we? She steps back and drops his arm, pressing her lips together angrily. Her hand hasn't gone to her waist where the holy dagger lies -- not, she thinks, that it'll matter against a man with a Celestial in his head, as busy as that Celestial is.

"I let someone close, an' I ended up havin' to kill him," she says. "And this is Myrken. I'm on the fuckin' defense council, I got my fingers in every single goddamn pie there is, I have a responsibility, and I cannot fuckin' fall for a man with a demon in his head. God! I'm such an idiot."

[BetaFlame]

"At least your finally -talking- to me." He lifts his arms and rotates it, making sure there was no real damage. No, it will heal just fine. He just looks at her, steady and level. His arms come up and fold over his chest, mostly to keep from grabbing her and shaking her.

"What do you want from me, Agnie? Would you you have rather I let the axe and the demon laying there in the woods?" He just looks skyward then, and shakes his head. "I'm not beyond getting hurt. But I am not -" Pay attention, Agnie, this bit is import "- Aeryn." Each word is bitten off angrily. "I -knew- what I was getting into. I don't need you to kill me if something happens. I'm sure Renea would be happy to take that burden from you." Clearly, he resents the comparison a tiny bit. His eyes are locked on hers, and narrowed just a touch. "Stop. Comparing. Him. To Me. We are not the same. If you want to try and pretend you don't feel anything, fine. But be honest, Agnie. This is about -you- being so afraid of -losing- you aren't even willing to try."

Take that, everyone that says he can't read people. Then again, this isn't people. Its Agnie.

[channe]

She steps back, out of range of his arms.

"So now it's all about me, huh. Me and my hang-ups and my dead ex-boyfriends and not a stitch about you." Agnieszka may wear her heart on her sleeve, but she's also a fine fighter when it comes to a riposte. It comes from learning from a master fencer. "You still have a demon in your brain. I don't. Okay, you're not Aeryn. I know that. But you're right. I don't like losing. But hey." She throws her hands in the air as if she's giving up. "I don't even know if there's anything here to try with."

She eyes him, and anger is there.

[BetaFlame]

"I have so much shit in my head, Agnie, I don't even know where to -begin-." He glares at her. Its not the same sort of anger she saw at the Dagger. No, this is all Aleksei. No demon frothing rage, just sheer frustration with trying to get his head around this mule of a woman in front of him. He might as well beat his head off a stone wall for a few days, he might actually get somewhere doing that. "I have plenty of problems. I don't even know where to start with them I am more afraid of the murderer that my people made inside my head than this goddamn Myrken-demon pisspot!" He really wants to shake her now.

"You know, there would be something worth trying.. if you didn't try and stab me with either a dagger or that razor blade of a tongue every time I tried to get close to you." Well, she wanted the truth didn't she? I guess they will find out if she did or not. "So you remember that question you asked me before you bolted the other night? The answer is 'Yes, I do.' Once I figured out what the hell you meant." He grinds his teeth. This can only get worse from here, so he just.. shuts the hell up. He really wants to look away from her, but he can't. He's afraid and thrilled back her reaction, all in the same moment and breath.

[channe]

"I ain't afraid of the shit in your head," she says, her voice calmer. "But we both got that problem. You see why it can't be," she says, quietly. For a moment she isn't Agnie the swordswoman or chairwoman or liege-murderer -- she's simply just another girl fiddling with her hands in front of someone she likes.

And then all of that changes. Her eyes harden; her stance straightens.

"So what am I supposed to do, huh? Act like my sisters around you, be all nice and pretty-like with poetry drippin' out of my mouth at every moment? Gawd, if you can't deal with the way I am than maybe this --" she indicates him, her, the space between -- "ain't meant to be nothin'. You either like it all, Aleksei, or there ain't no use in tryin', 'cause it won't end well."

She pauses, catches her breath. Waits for his response.

[BetaFlame]

He smirks a little, then shrugs at her. "I see why it wouldn't be easy, yes." He squeezes his eyes shut and reaches up and press his thumb and forefinger against his eye lids.

"Poetry? I'd like to hear that come from you, actually." His eyes open and look.. amused. "But no, I see what you mean. But you are so.. prickly, goddamn it, I can barely get a conversation in with you without getting my head torn of my shoulders. I like you with a sword, your foul temper and your colorful language. I just like it more when its not directed -at me-."

Summery time! "So, we both have feelings for the other. We both have a world of crazy living in our heads. I got two spare passengers in mine that need rehomed." He takes a breath, then just reaches a hand half way across the gap, slowly, so she knows he'll stop. "You aren't afraid of whats in my head, and I am not afraid of whats in yours. Why don't we just accept there is -something- and stop fighting it every step of the way, just.. see what happens..?"

[channe]

She smirks. "You'll never hear poetry from me." She pauses. "Dirty limericks, maybe. The Thessholes are really good at dirty limericks. Picked up a few in garrison. There once was a mage named Aleksei --"

And she stops. And, oh -- is that a smile? It is -- and she lifts her right hand, stretching it out to the gap, as well, her fingers stopping a hair's-breadth from his. She remembers the last time this happened. There had been pie, and a brilliant smile, and a walk by the lake, and she thought it would never end.

She knew better, now.

She knew so much better.

But still.

"If I'm prickly, then you're a know-it-all, ego-chompin' bastard," she says. Her voice isn't accusatory, though; it's light, or as light as Agnieszka gets. "But you're also really nice." A pause. "An' I don't mind your know-it-all thing all that much." And another pause, as if she's gathering the next words from a place inside so deep she can hardly find it -- "It'll be pretty hard to kiss me," she says. It's obviously not what she meant to say, because she breaks out laughing.

[BetaFlame]

He just laughs and shakes his head. "No? Oh well. I'll recite some Rodel poetry for you one day. Most of our short ones are only a hundred or so pages of flowery language that makes me gag." His lips just curl up in a slight grin.

He looks at their hands, so close and just looks. And considers. "Just like your nature, my know-it-all ego keeps me going." His eyes flicker to her face, then back down to their hands that are nearly touching again. "You know, this isn't precisely the conversation I had in mind when I saw your farm and decided to pop by, but.. I am glad we had it." He smiles at her. Not one of the 'oh hey look, I am not threatening and nice' smiles he has perfected, but a genuine smile that reaches his eyes and pushes away some of the weight off his shoulders.

"So, do we finished what we started when I grabbed your hand, or do we go to the butcher?" He wonders if she forgot about their errand..

[channe]

"Uh," she finally says, gulping down something that feels stuck in her throat. "Me too. Um." She'd never have this conversation in public. "... and you might revise what you just said, when you figure out it isn't a real good idea to get involved with me. Not very smart an' such, for a book-brain like yours."

She'd completely forgotten about the butcher. Her eyes widen. "Oh my gawd, the butcher," she says. "And you haven't even seen the big house. Come on."

Turning on one heel, she walks away -- and for a moment, it's like the previous conversation almost didn't happen. "The big house. Um. Mister Baker's wife died maybe, oh, four years before he did. It went to pot. He tried to have the farm-women fix it up, but none o' 'em really liked him too much so it didn't happen." Oh, the details she's skimming over. "So Cinnabar decided to have a new manor home built. It's kinda like a mini-castle. My brother worked on it."

A few more steps, and then she turns on one heel to regard him. "Unless, you know, you're really up for more o' that other shit. In my brain. In yours." She indicates her hand. "I wouldn't be. But then again, I ain't got much choice in the matter."