vatheon | (no subject)

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(no subject)

Who: Sufferer and anyone
Where: around the Plaza
When: New Year's Eve, around 7 PM
Status: open!
Style: contemplative

It's New Year's Eve, a holiday somewhat foreign to the trolls, but Sufferer knows enough to recognize it as a solemn, contemplative occasion. At least, that's how he's interpretting it. Or maybe it's just his new outlook on life.

Either way, the evening finds him in the Plaza, moving around it slowly, dreamily, carrying multi-colored paper bags and tea light candles. He sets each bag down carefully, fills it with a little sand or a few stones, and sets a lit candle in it. Those who were here last holiday season might remember him doing something similiar, and the Plaza is slowly filling up with gently flickering light.

It just seems like a good time of year for it.

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"If that pleases you." Sufferer can't see it, but Darkleer gives a small shrug. They're moirails, it's only fair. "That's all I wanted to speak to you about."

"Are you sure, Darkleer?" Sufferer's voice is gentle. "You don't usually seek me out unless you have something serious on your mind, and punching Dualscar doesn't really seem to merit it."

"You don't consider your moirail coming to harm a serious topic?"

This is, of course, a diversion tactic, and Darkleer isn't expecting it to really hold. It's just... hard to talk to him. It's always been. His emotions are always shifting and twisting when it comes to this troll. With so much uncertainty, he sometimes gets shy about even broaching the topics he's honestly thinking of.

"Dualscar is an adult troll and can take care of himself." Sufferer also doesn't believe Darkleer will actually do anything to Dualscar that he can't recover from easily enough, but he doesn't mention that. If it were someone else threatening him, say perhaps the Grand Highblood, he would be much more upset.

"That latter statement is debatable."

And then awkward silence.

A part of him really wants to ask about Disciple and what Sufferer would think of her with a moirail, but he knows he shouldn't. He's already decided he's going to turn her down, if it's even a thing he should be worrying about at all. He's being foolish.

"It's nothing," he eventually says, his best stoic voice in effect.

"Darkleer..."

"It really isn't." This was dumb. He is dumb. From the shadows, Darkleer slips out from his hiding place and goes to set down a lit bag with a kind of olive coloring to it.

"...I haven't had much luck in finding a moirail. I don't think other races are cut out for such things. I doubt other trolls are available."

"I've heard of humans who have become moirails with trolls, but I think it takes a rare, special kind of human to do so." Well, at least he can see Darkleer now and he isn't doing that silly Voidy stuff anymore. Sufferer takes a step or two closer, approaching him the same way he'd approach a spooked animal. "Have you been looking for a moirail?"

That is a good plan, Sufferer, he is kind of like a skittish horse sometimes. You can tell by the ears; they keep flicking.

"This is not a recent development. I told Summoner I would quite some time ago. However, it seems a hopeless effort and I am content to call it off. Perhaps it is for the best. It is not as though I really need one so the lack of interested candidates is fine."

"You had one before," Sufferer reminds him quietly. "But because you wouldn't call it what it was, you lost it. Do you want that to happen again?"

Darkleer's lips thin, and he keeps his hands at his side, clenched. "I tried to make it true, as we both know." Not exactly what he hoped to talk about...

Don't worry, he's not going to talk about it for long. "I know you did." Sufferer's voice is soft and sad, and he pauses for a moment before continuing. "Don't let that happen again, Darkleer. If someone wants to be your moirail, be honest with them, and yourself."

For some reason, that isn't what he was expecting. After the anger that came of their argument that happened immediately after the event, he had thought... He doesn't know. He thought there would be more rage, especially with the time he's from now.

"Maybe if I simply refrained, it wouldn't happen again. They wouldn't get hurt."

Sufferer is too tired to argue about that now. It's done, it's in the past, he isn't going to bring it up anymore. All it does is hurt people when he does.

"Maybe. But is it better to risk nothing and never be hurt, or to take risks and get great rewards in the end?"

"...It might."

But his heart isn't in the words, and it unfortunately shows. Things don't feel right now that there's a Psiioniic shaped hole in his life. Would another moirail make things better? Would she? He's just not sure.

Sufferer can hear the hesitation and regret in those two words, and he bows his head.

"I'm sorry it couldn't work out differently, Darkleer." What the "it" is in this sentence will forever remain unclear.

"Aren't we all." He means for it to come out sounding bitter, but he simply sounds tired instead. Biting back a sigh, he turns away and starts to walk off.

"I'll be taking my leave, then."

Sufferer doesn't try to stop him. "Good luck."

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