Cenn_icon.gif Davan_icon.gif

Scene Title No Good For You
Synopsis Cenn has a very unfortunate conversation with Davan.
Location Quaint Manor
Date 2 Firstfall 9:31 Dragon
Watch For Just heartbreak.
Logger Cenn

It's probably no surprise that Liddy is the one door watching. What may be the surprise is that, once Cenn arrives, he's directed to Davan's room with the caution that the mage hasn't been out since his morning wash. Apparently a cold is descending and you'd think death was at the door. And before the young woman walks away, she gives the Templar a pat on the back. "He's … surly."

Cenn arrives with posture much straighter than any he has walked into this house with in some time. And he does, in fact, knock. When given that information, however, the Templar frowns. Sighs, even, and shakes his head. "Best I find a better time, then." Cenn says to Liddy just before she leaves, turning to head back downstairs and to the door. The kind of conversation he needed to have was not fair to have to a sick man.

Well, look. There was a knock and Davan heard it, so the door is answered with the most confused look. "Come yell at me. I'm not dying. Liddy exaggerates." No, she doesn't, but he can deal for now. "As it happens, I'm in the midst of a letter of apology. I hadn't meant to test … come in. Explanation after."

When Davan comes to the door, Cenn sighs, and steps in. Though his posture does not ease. "There will be no yelling." He says, something softening his Ferelden accent that might be the old ghost of a memory of Orlais, "I am rather more civilized than that." Nevertheless, he doesn't sit. Just stands near the entrance to the room, looking at Davan with a gaze that is cold and hard. "You had not meant to test…" Cenn says, sounding doubtful.

"No, I hadn't" Davan sighs. "The truth is that I caught myself midway. I tried to explain that, it seemed to make things worse. My phrasing, most likely. The truth is I rather like the man, which is probably where it started." He sits, this time at a writing desk, and pulls at his robe. "So you're not going to yell. Have words? You should go ahead before my fear of what you're going to say gets the better of me."

"What game, precisely, are you playing at, Davan?" Cenn says, clasping on wrist in the opposite hand behind his back. "You tell me you find the intrigue of your home awful and tiresome and that you don't have any interest… And then you say you miss it? You're lying to someone, Davan, and I am not inclined to either truth." There's a growl in his voice that he doesn't quite manage to quell.

Davan shakes his head. "To no one, actually. Of course, you may think I'm crafting the explanation to suit me, but I'm too uncomfortable for that. The truth is that both are true. I hate the damned game of words. It's tiresome and useless and no one ever says what they mean. At the same time, it's what I know. You can be sure that no one is ever truthful and that the hand they're patting you with holds a dagger." He sighs, brushing his hair back and looking terrible sad for just a moment, barely enough to catch. "…it's also true that the man that greeted the Lieutenant was very much my father's son, and it's frightening how easy it was to become that." He lets his shoulders slump, but there's no attempt to win sympathy in the gesture. "I expect you'll be done with me now."

"Davan…" Cenn says with a sigh, seeming to accept that answer easily enough. There are different masks that everyone wears, he can believe that. Though his posture doesn't change, and he's not warming in the slightest. "What in the world were you thinking? And this talk of some kind of collection? It's disgusting. It may be that what you've just said is true, but there is something that you are playing at, and I would know what that is. What are you hoping to gain, exactly? If you so think people ought to say what they mean."

"Now that part wasn't mine. I assumed he was joking and went along in jest. Surely you don't.." Davan sighs and shakes his head. "Well, why would you ask otherwise. If I were collecting, there'd be a larger list by now. In fact, I found I had no interest in even the mildest flirtation. …THAT was unsettling."

"No interest in even the mildest flirtation?" Cenn says, actively scoffing and shaking his head, "That is quite different than implications to mount a friend of mine." Sighing, Cenn's hands unclasp, and instead fold over his chest. "You've still yet to answer the damn question, Davan. What are you playing at? Dance around it again and you will make an enemy you do not want, that much I can promise you."

"Alright, it was a poor joke. I certainly wasn't suggesting I be the one to. Unless it came across that way, which is really all that matters." At the very least, he's being truthful from his own perspective. "I also wasn't perfectly clear on what this man knew of us. He mentioned the invitation I sent you, but how easy would it be for someone to know about it? And there was the slight suspicion that he could use that against you. So I'm perfectly willing to admit my mistakes. I just want you to know the reason behind them."

"A poor joke." Cenn says, shaking his head. "So very forward you chose to be with this man. Like you knew him. Tell me, did you think that you did? What is it that you think you know that makes you feel entitled to be so very forward with Lieutenant Garou?" His tone has gone sacchrine, his speech slowing and drawing out to something dangerous. In affection, he is a pup. In protection, a hound. It seems, however, when Cenn is angry, he turns into a cat.

Davan looks genuinely confused. "Was that forward? Well, then I suppose that is that. I hadn't meant it to be. He did get his barbs in on the slavery issue, and I admit I'm incredibly defensive on that front, but it's no excuse. So. You're angry." He's not slow there. "And now?" Not that he thinks he's going to like the answer. "Just come out with it. Because, if it's what I believe, I'll need to give Liddy advance warning."

"And you can't even be bothered to answer a damn thing I ask you." Cenn says, going from sounding angry to sounding remarkably hurt. "Yes, I am angry. Something here is a fabrication, and it's either what you have shown me, or what you have presented to someone I respect. You've made it incredibly difficult to trust you for the fact you won't just answer me. And on top of all of that, there have been these little… Manipulations… For weeks. And I…" Cenn sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose, "And now you're not even bothering to try. This charade is less important to you than whatever secrets you're deciding to keep."

Davan shakes his head. "It is not you. I've been trying to explain to you that it was him. I should have been more direct. I thought I was… well, I was wrong. I whatever you think? That is the truth. I shouldn't have. I should have gotten a clearer answer or not invited at all. …I should also have remembered that if you trust him, he's trustworthy enough for me to not put on that sort of front. At the very least, I should have remained civil in my caution." But then he sneezes into a cloth and ruins the apologetic effect.

"I can't do this." Cenn says, so much quieter than anything he's said so far, "I can't. You've been playing these games with me for weeks. And they've been uncomfortable at best. But this… This is a bridge too far. I don't know what game you're playing, Davan, and I don't know why. But I loved you, and I hope you're happy with whatever result you're getting from all of this." And he turns for the door, before he can break, because that is the last thing he wants.

Davan stands and reaches to take hold of Cenn's arm. "What games? I've made mistakes. Probably horrible ones, but I am not lying to you. I love you and… that's terrifying. So I sabotage myself. I have no idea what I'm doing. And if this is it… then…" He shakes his head. "You don't have to worry. I'll leave the house open and staffed for Carys and you won't be…" He doesn't finish, but his hand remains where it is.

So wound up is he that when Davan takes hold of him, there is a moment… A brief moment, when his heart pounds and instincts flare and the very beginnings of the Veil growing thicker start. It's heavy for a second, and then it passes, as Cenn doesn't commit conscious thought to it. He growls, turning to look at Davan slowly. "First of all, let go of me." He says, "And second of all, what precisely is it that you mean to do?"

Davan lets his hand drop and shakes his head. "Not stay here." Its all he says because that reflexive action staggers him. "If that's it then I can't stay here and I refuse to say anything that might manipulate you or be seen that way. Because, whatever mistakes I've made, I've genuinely never wanted to do that to you."

At that, Cenn sighs long and irritated. "Don't you understand? That, itself, is enough of a manipulation to make me cringe." He says, shaking his head, "I end this and then you're going to what? Up and leave? Try and return home with the state of your life as I know it is?" There's a bitter, sad laugh then. "Do what you will, Davan, but I do not expect you to leave Kirkwall."

"It was meant to reassure you. …but if there is no chance for us, and if what you think of me is the truth, it's obviously where I belong." He sits, rifling through a drawer to find something and cursing. "Damnit…" He finally pulls out an envelope to hold out. "Would you mind giving this to the Lieutenant? I'd ask Liddy but she's about to become genuinely angry with me."

"Where you belong or not is your decision." Cenn says, stern and cold and trying desperately to remain that way, "My opinion should not define yours, in regard to yourself, so strongly, Davan. This… I never wanted that. If that's really how this is, then I'm no good for you anyway." He stares at the envelope, considers a moment. "Yes, fine." And some of his resolve is cracking, so he simply takes the envelope gently and looks at Davan. "With your leave, then."

"You don't have it. Your opinion is not why I'm leaving. You think I can stay here now? Not having you is why I'm going to go. And I said I belonged there. I'm not going home. Here with you was home. Unless you're willing to give me a chance to be a better man-and I promise you, I'm trying- then…" Davan turns back to his desk, not subtle in hiding his face, even if he's genuinely trying to be this time. "At the very least, I'll get to be the son my father always wanted."

Cenn has really tried. He has. But that… He breaks, laughing though there's nothing but ash and bile behind it. "Listen to yourself." He says, a fist rising to the doorframe by which he stands, thumping there to try and just get some of this awful energy out. "Just fucking stop, for a single moment, and fucking listen to yourself." Cenn trembles, "I love you. I'm hurt beyond… I can't stay, but I do love you. Or what I thought I knew of you. And then you present me with the fact that if I leave, you're effectively going to go off and torture yourself? How in the world…" He takes a breath, but it doesn't help, "How could you think that isn't precisely the kind of manipulation that I've been talking about?"

Davan shakes his head. "I thought I owed you an explanation." He rubs at his forehead. "I am fucking bad at this. Alright." He sighs. Sitting back to regard Cenn after a definite effort to hide any trace of tears. "Let me say this. I didn't mean for it to be that. Hopefully you can believe me. I would … give anything, actually, to try this again. I believe I have a lot to learn about normal. But if you agree, I'm going to … have to relearn a lot, actually. Like … leaving reassurances in letters after the fact."

"You don't owe me anything." Cenn says, bitter and sharp. There's a moment, then, that he hesitates, but then shakes his head. "Right now, I really… Just cannot stay. Maybe, with time, this might heal but I… Honestly, Davan, the amount that this just feels like some sort of trap is…" He shakes his head, "And I think we were both doing a lot of lying to ourselves."

"What lies, exactly?" Davan turns back to the desk to busy himself with finding something. "That I love you? Or that it's possible? Or… that it matters." He finally stands and reaches for something that resembles clothes and calls through the door. "Liddy! Have the horse brought round. If I can't kill this damned cold with with rest, I'll take it out to meet its own kind."

"That this was a good idea." Cenn says quietly, and shakes his head. "Good luck with that." And then Cenn's opening the door, because he just can't anymore. He's tried, really he has, but if he stays any longer he's going to break. He takes the stairs two at a time, because his eyes are stinging, and if he passes by Liddy on the way out, she does get a polite nod.

Liddy makes a point of stopping Cenn in the hall. "He's not going back. He bought two horses, one was for you. I've known him all my life and he's sabotaging himself. Should I send word if he returns? Just so you you don't come to find him not here."

There are just some things you don't do, and snapping at another person's staff is one of them. So when Liddy tries to stop him, Cenn takes a deep breath and pauses, trying hard to make the shine in his eyes go away. "I think I will be sending him word before simply arriving back here, so that will not necessary. Thank you, Liddy." And it's with a polite but succint tone that says he is very much meaning to leave now.

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