Garou_icon.gif Seren_icon.gif

Scene Title The Gift of Hope
Synopsis A Misconception is Corrected
Location Circle of Magi
Date July 27, 2016
Watch For Garou getting language right
Logger Seren

So guess who hasn't been in their room since yesterday? Yep. Seren. He actually SLEPT, except he slept in the courtyard, which has probably circulated EVERYWHERE by now. Because in a place like the circle? EVERYTHING is rumor fodder. So here he is, late evening, FINALLY returning to start the process of 'clean up, take walk, be awake until the wee hours, nap' that's been his norm. Walking the hall in thought, because there's never anyone to run into ever.

Nightmares aren't a frequent tagalong to Garou's sleep the way they once were. For the most part now he's fairly comfortable in rest - and the past few days it's been a little like he's existing in a reality with less gravity than everyone else's - but sometimes they crop up and bite him right in the ass. Rather than disturb lover and cub with his tossing and turning, Garou had dressed and come out to sit perched in one of the larger windows, arms wrapped loosely around his knees and one whole side of his body leaning against the glass. Seren's approach is noted only absently at first, but there's enough recognition to attempt a small smile and a nod of acknowledgment as he passes by where Rou is perched. He can be polite without forcing himself on uncomfortable people.

"I'm surprised to see you out," is Seren's greeting at first. "You're well?" Not that he's going to attempt to find out. He's old enough and with enough experience to have manners, but it won't stop him from being concerned. "I admit, I was worried that you would take much longer to recover." At least this time the elf doesn't look like he's hiding all the hurt in the world.

Garou's polite smile warms a little at that admission of surprise. "Couldn't sleep. Didn't want to wake anyone." He doesn't need to elaborate more than that; Lieutenants have their own rooms, but a casual eavesdropper would probably mistake the 'anyone' for other Templars rather than the mage and cub he actually worries for. That smile grows a little and he nods - though the sound is accompanied by an odd little vocalization that conveys a nonverbal affirmative, interesting habit, that. "Valentin is a wonder," he explains, soft voice colored with pride and awe and affection. "To go from… I could not even stomach looking at it - to a few aches and pains is nothing short of brilliant. How could I complain?"

It's probably no surprise that Seren finds these supposed restrictions strange.So he simply doesn't bother mentioning them. "I admit I kept track of his work. I can't imagine … That long." He shakes his head. "I wanted to have a word with you about your discomfort with me. I've noticed it. I'm not offended but… Why?"

There's a shadow of worry that crosses his face at the mention of the lengthy and consuming process Valentin had undergone to work his miracle. "I am… glad that you did." Words are not his friends the way they are for his love and so he struggles. "It… I do not have your gift. That you stood by in case…" He sighs. Most of the time it's simply not worth the effort, but for Seren he will try. "I worry for him. Thank you." But then the healer is jumping in full-steam ahead and Rou is left blinking at him in something a little like shock. Oh this is going to be a fun conversation. He turns so that his back is to the window and he can sit cross-legged in the sill and look at Seren more directly. It's the polite thing to do, but it does change the viewing angle enough to bring up one large and one small mouth-bruise along the lower part of his neck. "That is not a simple answer." At least he's honest. "In part, I am aware that my presence brings you discomfort and I do not wish to inflict such things on anyone."

"Valentin has gentleness that either I never possessed or that is long since gone. He needed to be looked after when he had no thought for himself." Apparently, Seren has developed at least a protectiveness for the other healer. "You don't have to worry about words with me, I'll understand." He gives something of a grin that's all warmth and humor. "I'm a father, I'm good at figuring it out." Kids aren't born wording well. "You…" Then he laughs. "We are a pair. You worry I'm uncomfortable. I'm so used to making others uncomfortable that I assumed. You don't. Not anymore."

That assessment makes Garou bristle at first and he sits up straighter with a frown between his brows. "I look after him," he growls, every inch the protective mate. But then reason sets in - as it always does - and he sighs. "As best I am able." Which at least has the benefit of being painfully true. "I owe you thanks for that, too." Seren's assertion that he'll understand, however, merits an incredibly skeptical look (accompanied by a disbelieving sound most people don't bother with). "I mean no disrespect, but there has been only one person in my entire life for whom that is actually true." So he has trouble buying it from anyone else ever. The laugh startles him, for he has come to expect such open expressions will be shuttered from him here in this place of darkness and despair, but he doesn't not seem to mind. "Then I am… glad." Articulate as ever. "What happened to you was…" The clench of his jaw and the dropping of his tone are clear indications of still-hot anger, but he shakes his head, accepting that the rest of the words will not come. "Suffice it to say that I would not blame you if you were never comfortable with an Orlesian Templar ever again."

"I'm not offended. My daughter spoke late. Her father had so much trouble saying what he wanted to say. I'm good at guessing." Seren shakes his head. "If you give me your thanks, I'll accept it but you don't owe me." He shrugs. "What happened… Shouldn't have. None of the Templars here are responsible, and I can't treat them like they are. If my presence makes you uncomfortable, however? I'd appreciate you telling me. You don't have to tell me why, but I'll make sure to give you whatever space you need."

Something in that explanation of Seren's hard-won guessing skill makes one corner of Garou's mouth twitch. "Thanks have been given." And it's as simple as that; he is quite a few unsavory things, but ungrateful is not one of them. The continuation of that thought, however, brings a smile to his face that is simultaneously incredibly polite and heartbreakingly sad. "That will not be necessary. You do not," he assures the mage quietly. "But you are not the first mage upon whom I have stumbled while they were covered in blood." Grey eyes go distant. "They are not pleasant memories, but they pass." Not bleeding all over the place and threatening him with a knife are really great differentiators already.

Seren nods. "If it becomes necessary, you only need to tell me." That he's able to smile with warmth instead of that polite thing he had to remind himself to do for others may be a leftover from his spirit visitor. "I'm sorry for being so direct. Someone gave me something that has been missing for a long time and I wanted to speak to you before it was gone again."

That warm smile on a face that does not often leave 'vaguely, hazily miserable' is a very pleasant change. It brings a return of a slightly crooked smile that holds a bit of dry humor in just the expression. "Warn me the next time you wish to rewrite scars that way," he quips back, low amusement in his tone. "I can stand guard and not look and everything will be just peachy." He pauses. "Did I use that phrase correctly? That does not sound right. Peachy. Hmph." Seeming to recognize that he's made the mistake of drifting between 'in his head' thoughts and 'out loud' thoughts, Rou shakes his head. "It is refreshing." Especially in a place like Kirkwall where the walls oozed the kind of lazy, malicious indirectness that made him want to bring down unholy fire upon everyone. The Game in Kirkwall is a joke. "You should not lose it."

Seren laughs, not really able to help it. "It's correct. In Trade, the words are in the wrong places. There's no music to them. Next time… I hope there isn't a next time. Who knows? Maybe it won't go away. As frightening a prospect as that is. Thank you, lieutenant. … You should try to sleep." Which is where he's going.

Garou can't argue that point. He's been schooled in both languages since he was very, very small, but he's always preferred one over the other. Sleep is not going to happen any more tonight, but there is a small family waiting for him and that is pleasant enough to make his heart skip its next beat and to drive him to seek his own space. Except… "Seren." Except that there is some ambiguity to that 'next time' that makes his insides turn to red hot metal all over again. It needs to be clarified. "You will not be so harmed, here." It's a promise made with the low, rough growl that tends to come out most when his baser instincts (of any variety, good or bad) have been brought to the fore. "I won't stand for it." Which, hollow as it may sound to captive ears, is at least genuinely meant. "Good night."

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