milliways_bar | (no subject)

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Marsh is settled at a chair, reading and waiting. He'll be leaving soon, but it would go against the spirit of the bargain with Rider to attempt to leave without her - however dangerous her desire to go may prove to either of them. To both of them.

None of that shows on his face. Marsh has far too much of a stone-face going for his own good.

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Without shifting more than his arm, Marsh's hand settles on hers, "I am in no hurry, Rider, and I do not feel comfortable with summoning."

"It saves time," she says with a faint smirk on her lips, the long strands of her purple hair flying free for the moment. She is dressed in her clothes for battle, the tight black tube of a dress, the high boots.

"Time does not pass there when I am here." Marsh points out, releasing her hand and standing. A bookmark is placed in his book, and he quietly hands it to a rat to be re-shelved until he returns. "I knew that you would find me eventually, and when you did that you would be ready to go."

"I would prefer you summon me," she says lightly. "I'm quite ready to go."

"I have this feeling" Marsh states as he opens (http://calledironeyes.livejournal.com/1752.html) the door, "that we are going to have another fight. I am not comfortable summoning you as though you were a possession."

"Perhaps I am mistaken," she says smoothly. "I don't recall fighting with you."

But then she stepped through. (http://calledironeyes.livejournal.com/1752.html)

It doesn't take more than a minute or two before they step back again, Marsh holding the door for Rider. He closes it behind himself with a click.

Her hand settles on his hand, still on the door.

"I am sorry."

Marsh shakes his head "Do not be sorry, Rider. I am not." The faint hint of a smile touches his voice and lips alike, "Had it succeeded then I would not have had chance to see your eyes."

She thinks of Shirou.

It is the past.

"No, you wouldn't have," she agrees. Then she shifts one finger, still on his arm.

His other hand comes over and rests on hers. There is still a power imbalance, there may always be, and because of that he only rests his hand on hers. "It is not the victory hoped for. I still came out ahead."

She has many things she could say. There are many things she considers saying. Finally, she decides on something.

"Sherbert," she says quietly, "with plum wine. It's very good."

It is neither invitation nor dismissal of what had been said in his world. It was extension.

"Thank you." Marsh says - acknowledgment of both her words now and the actions not taken. He flags a waitrat down and orders two bowls before slowly moving back toward the table.

Slowly so that it is her choice to rest hand on his arm or not.

She keeps her hand on his arm.

"I was given such by a friend."

Sakura. She hasn't spoken of Sakura.

"It is my favorite dessert."

If she could have such a thing.

She can. At least as far as he is concerned she can.

"It pleases me to hear that you have had friends." Marsh says quietly "Thank you for sharing it with me."

By the time they sit the two bowls are waiting for them.

She sits next to him. Her hand is still on his arm.

"A friend," she says. "We shared... many things."

She won't explain the Mato household. It was not to be spoken of. Not that she is bound any longer by them. But it was still not to be spoken of.

After another moment he rests his hand on hers again. He doesn't need to eat right now. Getting to know her matters much more.

"I do not recall the last time I called someone a friend." Marsh admits. "I have been a recluse for many months."

"She was the first.

"In millennium."

She pulls the spoon from the sherbet and lifts the bowl to sip from the sweetened wine.

A moment later, she holds out the bowl towards him.

Marsh takes the bowl from her and after a second places his lips where she placed hers to take an equal sip. "It is very good Rider. I am sorry that you had to wait so long between friends."

She shakes her head, the soft lavender strands moving with her.

"The first."

In ever. Her sisters did not and never would count.

He stills at that, and sets the bowl down to brush a straying lock of her hair aside. "I am sorry."

She stills as well, at his touch. Then, with visible effort, she swallows nothing at all and nods.

"Truths do not require apologies. Especially not from you."

"Perhaps not." Marsh says quietly "But I feel sympathy anyway and wish that your life had been easier."

"And yet, I would not be myself. Nor would you be yourself. And it is no longer true."

"This too is true." Marsh says quietly.

She picks up his bowl and sips the sweetened wine from the edge. Then she holds it out to him.

He takes it in his turn, sipping and passing it back.

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