milliways_bar | (no subject)

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It's been a while.

Okay, so it's been way more than a while, but the narration would go so far as to err on the side of diplomacy lest it be included in the general air of 'royal lazyasses' that seems to follow its charges around on a near-constant basis. It is not lazy - it is abused and mistreated.

"- should have seen your face when it started moving!"

"It was a tree. Trees don't move - there are roots involved - it's rather the point, Yvaine."

"So you talked to one, but they cannot move?"

"Yes, but that's an entirely -"

You see what it has to live with on a daily basis?

The couple that appears along with the bickering looks rather like they've been walking a great deal - vaguely dusty, slightly threadbare, and sun-darkened (well, one of them, at least) - but altogether rather pleased, if a little footsore.

"Oh," the star remarks, blinking once at the sudden change of scenery and grinning widely. "Civilization!"

Company would be welcomed. (As would dinner, more likely than not, but first thing's first.)

(OOC: ~~Two for the price of one! It's sort of a discount ... only not at all.~~ AND NOW - for bedtime!)

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Right now, mature and responsible are the last things he wants to be, so he isn't about to encourage that sort of behaviour on Yvaine.

"I - " he pauses, mouth hanging open for a moment. He starts again. "I haven't the foggiest idea what we're supposed to do once we ... accept our responsibilities. I always thought we would eventually just figure it out somehow, or maybe we'll just screw up so badly, mother will continue taking over."

Yes, but -

"I am not even precisely worried about those obligations at the moment," she wrinkles up her nose distastefully. "We are certainly not planning any wars at the moment. It is more - well, certainly you have -"

Serious discussions are so not fun.

She colors vaguely, "It will be expected, I would imagine, that - people tend to worry about matters of - there is going to be talk of succession. What with your family's apparent tendency to - to off one another over rights to the throne."

Tristran has a very vague idea of what Yvaine means, but the frown on his face betrays whatever thoughts he may have - with the exception of confusion.

"What ... are you implying?" he dares to ask.

"Royal families," she elaborates, still quite vaguely - and rather colorfully, for that matter. "There is usually - it is expected that the family line be -"

That right there?

Was, very distinctly, not a squeak.

She clears her throat, chin tilting stubbornly, "Be secured. As it were."

Oh. Oh. Well, then. Um.

All of such talk would hint at - well, taking their relationship to new levels. Levels that are utterly embarrassing to even think about.

That would explain Tristran's sudden squirming.

"Isn't it a bit ... early to be thinking about that sort of thing?" he ventures weakly. "I mean - well, it's just - we've - and it's only been - and we haven't -"

Tristran, stop stuttering. It throws her hard-won, stubborn composure completely off - and she had been doing reasonably well before this part.

"I did not mean - well, I hardly meant - it is just," she manages. Barely this time around. "It might be important to know. In case there are - if we are expected - what we are expected."

He will try, but honestly, neither he nor the narration can promise anything.

Taking a deep breath, he tries to formulate an appropriate - and stutter-free answer. It fails - just a bit.

"I'm certain that - that when the time comes, it will all come naturally to us. It won't be - well, we won't be so - it'll be fine, Yvaine."

"Exactly."

She blinks back at him with something of a smile.

"I do not want it all to be -" she laughs, sound still slightly off-kilter, runs her fingers rather haphazardly through her hair. "Expected. I never saw the point to - to doing things that way."

Her smile is encouraging. Tentatively, he smiles back.

He really hadn't given that part any thought; he always assumed it would happen one day, but never had any clear idea on the exact whens.

"Do we ever do the things we're expected to do, Yvaine?" he asks, then. "I should think after this entire adventure, you'd see that we're really rather good at doing things whenever - and however - we please. I don't think that's about to change any time soon."

Prior to the whole abrupt crash-landing thing, this whole element to life wasn't particularly given any thought at all.

She needs to build up context.

"Well, no," she admits, looking rather sheepish. "We are rather terrible at doing what we are meant to, aren't we?"

A nod.

"On our own time then. I can live with that."

"On our own time," he repeats, the smile never really leaving his face.

A moment later, he finishes up the rest of his pie in record-breaking time; it is actually quite impressive.

He leans back, feeling quite satisfied. "I missed it here."

Poor, poor pie. It never stood a chance.

"Me too," she admits, smile curling up. "Even with all the people."

He laughs at that.

"Agreed."

And then he glances towards the stairs, eyes lingering there for a moment.

"I wonder if our room is exactly as we left it. You don't think someone else decided to take it, do you?"

"Do you have the key?"

She somewhat equates possessing the means to get into a room with owning said room. (Lock picks, however, do not fit well with this scenario. So they are ignored.)

"Oh - "

As though coming to the same realization, he fishes around his battered and worn rucksack.

Nodding, he plucks it out and passes it to her. "Forget we had that."

"So we should be fine in terms of places to stay," she replies brightly. "And we had cleaned it up before we left and everything."

They're so mature and responsible!

They are! Wow. The narration is simply awed.

"Very true," he says, grinning. "Do you think we're ready to go upstairs, then?"

It should be. It's likely the only time they were or will ever be mature or responsible in any way, shape, or form.

The star smiles back before tilting her chin neatly.

"I would say so."

He starts to slide out from the booth, closing his rucksack and slinging it over one shoulder.

"Admittedly, I'm really looking forward to lying on a soft mattress," he says as he waits.

"Mm," she agrees, arm snagging his after she's extracted herself from the booth. "And getting some actual sleep."

No rocks, no trees, no interesting creatures.

Just blankets.

"Yes," he says with a decisive nod. "That - most definitely."

Quiet, safe, un-bothered sleep.

He starts off towards the staircase. He remembers the times he had to help Yvaine up these very steps while her leg was still broken; that had been difficult. Especially with the chain between them.

That had been so long ago.

She'd also been far more reluctant to accept help - but she thinks that they figured themselves out well enough in the end. They just take their time about it, is all.

(The narration thinks that they're getting sentimental in their old age.)

Yvaine blinks warily at the stairway and nods determinedly, "Well, let's get going then."

They certainly take their time with just about everything. It's how they roll, clearly.

He nods, ascending the stairs, keeping his pace alongside her. The steps are big enough for that, and he isn't a very large young man anyway.

Steps, one must admit, are surprisingly anticlimactic after weeks of trekking through miles of wilderness.

The star looks rather pleased by this development.

The door isn't too far off either - and she's able to walk much faster when they're back on level ground - so the key turns quickly and the door slips open and she tugs him in all in one motion.

It's something like coming home.

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