Mad Sloth

1

Susannetta drifts downstairs late in the evening, and puts her head quietly around the living room door. Two men onna bed, one naked, with cuddling. How sweet.

Susannetta knocks softly, smiling.

Yvain's only half asleep, and raises his head with a fond, sleepy smile at you. "Come sit?" he suggests, explaining in a quiet voice. "I...didn't think he should be alone," he murmurs.

Susannetta crosses the room and leans down to brush a kiss against your forehead. "How is he?"

Yvain says quietly, "Blaming himself. I sent a sketch down to the watch of the men, and notes on the ship."

Yvain leans up to meet the kiss with his lips.

Susannetta's lips entirely fail to escape, tasting of sleep and honey.

Susannetta softly asks with a Lancrastian accent: He woke up, then? Why's he blaming himself?

Yvain says quietly, "Obeying orders. He's wrong, of course...but..." He shrugs a little, "I can't say I'd do differently though. I..." A little stubborn, "I'm not going to let him leave until he stops, it's not _safe_ for him to go back to doing what he does, thinking that way."

Susannetta gently says with a Lancrastian accent: It's up to him, love. Come and cook dinner with me.

Yvain very carefully disengages hmself from the sleeping man, carefully repositioning arms so they'll not be (as) sore come morning before rising to join you. "I know. But I want to make sure," a slight frown, "that it _stays_ that way, and that he understands that it is." He pads toward the kitchen in your wake.

Susannetta glances back towards the living room as she closes the kitchen door. "Do you want to make a curry, and I'll make flat bread annd something else to go with it?"

Yvain nods in agreement as he washes up. "Of course...That'll let me use up the last of the pumpkin and onions," he murmurs, as he starts cleaning the vegetables.

Susannetta kneels to lift out the bucket of flour. "Is there any of that nice lamb left?

Yvain nods, "Just enough...possibly I'll do two curries, one hot?"

Susannetta nods. "I can do one - bread doesn't take that long. And we've some good yoghurt to go with it."

Yvain nods happily, "I'll leave the lamb to you, then...my hot spicing always ends up tasting more Genuan than Djelian," he admits a little ruefully. He leans forward to kiss you gently, "Did you sleep alright?"

Susannetta pauses with floury hands to linger on the kiss lovingly.

Susannetta murmurs, "Like a very sleep log."

Yvain growls softly and slips his hands to your waist, exhaustion making him a little bolder than normal.

Susannetta is drawn into your lap, one floury hand drifting into your hair as she makes longing little explorations against your mouth.

Yvain meets the explorations with his own, his hands tugging you a little more insistently. "I missed waking up beside you," he murmurs softly. "Though, before was nice."

Susannetta laughs softly into your mouth. "Before? Waking up beside him instead? Have you been taking advantage of injured hashishim, my love?"

Yvain's eyes open to regard you a moment, "No. But you were the one speculating about us in the stable...." He nips your bottom lip. "Before...when you were staying awake and I was sleeping against you as a wolf," he reminds.

Susannetta smoothly says with a Lancrastian accent: I speculate about you and every man of your acquaintance, dear heart.

Yvain gives you a sideways look. "And what do you conclude from your speculations, my love?"

Susannetta leans in and nuzzle along the line of your chin. "That I desire you greatly and am an extremely lucky woman."

Yvain recaptures your lips, "You conclude that by speculating about me and other men?" He muses. "I need to make more male friends, clearly."

Susannetta makes a greedy little noise. "Or kiss Andrew more often..."

Susannetta's hands wind around your neck. You're all floury.

Yvain doesn't seem to notice. His poor clothes. Woe. He presses a little against you, "I don't think you've ever seen me kiss Andrew, have you?"

Susannetta purrs softly, "Never."

Yvain nuzzles gently against your ear, nibbling lightly at the ridge, "It really doesn't bother you?" There's a little bit of wonder in the tone, as if he can't quite reconcile it.

Susannetta softly says with a Lancrastian accent: I confess I like it.

Susannetta's lips brush over your throat.

Yvain tilts his head back to give you better access, a soft growl escaping him. "Why?" Curiosity.

Susannetta says in a low, seductive purr, "What do you think of the idea of me kissing Andrew, Yvain?"

Yvain's eyes half close, and his imagination seems to not take into account things like "horribly awkward", "both of you staring terrified and in shock at the other" and "the utter broken silence that might happen afterwards." His hips grind gently against you, with the soft whimper his answer.

Susannetta softly says with a Lancrastian accent: That's why.

Yvain leans forward and captures your lips with his, a faint growl, "But not babies. That's _mine_," he murmurs, a little possessively.

Susannetta growls quietly, "Yours."

Susannetta kisses you deeply.

Yvain nips lightly at your lip, pressing you back a bit against the counter. "Good. Don't...can't...even think about letting someone else..." his hand brushes demonstratively against your stomach. "Not without growling, at least."

Susannetta :catches your hand and squeezes it, before a sudden breath of cold air against your body announces her moving away, and she starts to measure out flour into a bowl.

Susannetta softly asks with a Lancrastian accent: So he complicates things, doesn't he?

Yvain blinks a little dazedly at you, "Who?"

Susannetta says with a Lancrastian accent: Passerin.

Yvain falls a little quiet, and resumes preparing the vegetables, "How so?"

Susannetta softly says with a Lancrastian accent: I was going to suggest we go and take the weekend in the cottage. To...

Susannetta's hand leaves a small white floury mark above her breast.

Yvain reaches out and takes your hand gently. "I should tell him," he says thoughtfully, then his eyes meet yours. "Do you want it to be there? I was going to...the next time we..." he blushes a little. "Since you said it's what you want," he explains quickly, the blush deepening.

Susannetta softly says with a Lancrastian accent: It doesn't have to be there.

Susannetta squeezes your hand.

Yvain's eyes are a little darker. "I...had a thought. BUt I'm not sure what you'll think. Everything we've been reading says it's worst before the full moon, but then when it happens, everything sort of...evens out. So, to make it as painless as possible, maybe closer to?" His eyes search yours, as if for confirmation that his logic is flawed or sound.

Susannetta quietly says with a Lancrastian accent: I'd rather... have time to adjust.

Susannetta says with a Lancrastian accent: Otherwise we'll probably be imposing on Lady Adele again.

Susannetta makes an ironic face and reaches for the yeast.

Yvain nods, "Sooner, then." He gives you a small, secretive smile. "Maybe not. If he's well enough, I want to take you for a walk tonight?"

Susannetta looks sideways at you, and her eyes go all tender. "With delight, my love."

Susannetta says with a Lancrastian accent: Now make that curry.

Susannetta winks at you.

Yvain obediently sets to making the curry. Lots of vegetables, some coconut, spices...mmm. Curry. "Rice, too?" he asks, at the appropriate time.

Susannetta says with a Lancrastian accent: No, I'll put a little in mine, but we've bread.

Susannetta leaves the dough to rise and sets about doing things with lamb and spices and lentils and saffron.

Yvain nods agreeably, "Of course." Food is prepared, both your dishes and his washed as he goes.

Susannetta has a dishwasher fiance. Her life is complete.

Yvain steals long, loving glances at you as he cooks and cleans.

Susannetta concentrates intenetly on exact ratios of spices.

Yvain bothers...stirs..bothers...the food.

Susannetta absently asks with a Lancrastian accent: Think your boy will wake up for it?

Yvain says quietly, "I hope so. If not, I'll wake him...he's half-starved, and food'll do him as much good, maybe more, than sleep will right now, I think."

Susannetta gives you an odd look. "If he's half starved, love, he certainly shouldn't be eating too much."

Yvain nods, "Which is why I've been giving him a very light soup. Good, but not heavy enough to make him sick. I canned what was left, to heat for when he wakes up."

Susannetta ponders. "Good. There's some bread from yesterday, too, which shouldn't be too exciting for shrunken stomachs. And he could probably have some of this tomorrow - well, yours. Not this, with lamb and spices."

Yvain nods, "I had the lad bring some goat's milk by this morning...it'll be easier on him than cow's milk, if he feels up to it, and at least a different flavour."

Susannetta murmurs, "Did anyone ever tell you you're the perfect man?"

Susannetta shoots a devoted look at you.

Yvain returns the look affectionately, "Because I can order milk?"

Susannetta says with a Lancrastian accent: Because you're beautiful and loving and sensible and you listen to me but I don't have to tell you everything.

Yvain grins lopsidedly at you, "Then you're the perfect woman."


Susannetta flicks a little spicy lump of lamb at you. "No, you're just biased because I've molded you into the perfect man for my tastes."

Yvain catches it and tastes, and mmms happily. "What, all this time, it's been a CONSPIRACY?" He sounds shocked.

Susannetta says with a Lancrastian accent: Oh no. Just a plot. A conspiracy needs more conspirators.

Yvain eyes you teasingly. "Oh. So no one else was in on it then, this is all..." A gesture to encompass both of you and the room, "your doing?"

Susannetta laughingly says with a Lancrastian accent: Well, I admit there might have been a musketeer had something to do with it...

Yvain steals a neck-kiss in passing, his hand brief and warm against your side before he slips around you to nab the spice-mill. "Then you're even more perfect, for manipulating me into true happiness."

Susannetta turns the heat down to let the curry simmer, and washes her hands. "So what shoudl I write to Flamore..."

Yvain says quietly, "The truth. I don't think he'd lie to save himself, and if he returns and gives an account different than what was sent, it'll go hard on him, I expect." He takes a breath, "He was too hurt to travel. It's not safe for him to leave yet, though he intends to as soon as it is, he was taken by slavers and saved several women suffering though he came out badly wounded as the result. The musketeer's notions of hospitality won't let him leave yet without taking offense."

Susannetta's eyes harden. "If I had power on these seas..."

Yvain says softly, "Then you'd feel responsible when things like this happened behind your back. And they'd still happen."

Susannetta says with a Lancrastian accent: Not nearly so often. I almost eliminated the... use of cabin boys or weaker young men on my ships, and any ship commanded by any who'd ever served under me.

Yvain says quietly, "Yes. But there're too many people who'd do that sort of thing, for you to teach all of them differently. And power doesn't ever stop injustice from happening....it just makes it easier for it to hide."

Susannetta quietly says with a Lancrastian accent: And in this case there's an economic cause. It must be a thriving business, slavery.

Susannetta musingly says with a Lancrastian accent: Though I must say I don't envy the person who buys someone like that boy. Or Acantha.

Yvain says quietly, "You know, it's not the slavers that make my skin crawl the most. They're already written off, they'd be selling whatever was going for the highest bid, whether it's people or silk or spices. It's the people who make the demand for it...people who are, in every regard, normal, loving, capable of human warmth and care as much as you or I. And who, somehow, think no more about holding a sentient life as chattel, than they would about buying a horse or a puppy for their child. That's the evil that scares me the most."

Susannetta shrugs. "Society. Buy a nice house, buy a nice slave."

Susannetta says with a Lancrastian accent: Hope he doesn't put a dagger in your ribs.

Yvain says softly, "Still. I'd rather deal with clear, obvious evil...the kind that goes around cackling and dressed in black and scarlet and leering at young maidens...any day. It's so much less...close...than the kind that smiles and fits in with everything around it."

Susannetta laughs softly. "Such as a wolf shaped like a man?"

Susannetta winks at you.

Yvain's smile deepens. "If that's how one defines evil, I suppose." His eyes rest on you a moment. "Both belong to you, though."

Susannetta primly says with a Lancrastian accent: I like wolves.

Susannetta winks at you.

Susannetta tastes the curry.

Yvain returns the wink. "Sufficient?" he asks, as if awaiting rejection.

Susannetta murmurs, "Bellissimo. Baciami."

Yvain leans in and kisses you with a soft, low, very wolfish growl.

Susannetta buries her hands in your hair to kiss you back. Then eyes you. "You've gone grey."

Yvain smiles, teeth showing. "It's the stress of this woman I'm in the habit of taking to bed. She wears me out." Another kiss, hungry and wanting. He murmurs softly against your lips, "I want to give you everything."

Susannetta softly says with a Lancrastian accent: Dear heart, you already do.

Yvain smiles slightly, mysteriously, his eyes twinkling. "Haven't." He draws back a little, and sets to serving out the food.

Susannetta leans on the table, watching happily, just little things like the way your arms move, the curve of your fingers against the pots. "Haven't you? My goodness, you're right, I am incomplete and cheated."

Yvain's smile deepens secretively. "Horribly, I agree. More?" He gestures to the plate with the ladle.

Susannetta says with a Lancrastian accent: Always.

Susannetta seats herself.

Susannetta says with a Lancrastian accent: And yes, you have a secret, you are a teasing little cur.

Yvain wiggles his tail. Or where it'd be if he was a wolf. "I know!" he says, delightedly, before offering the plate. He opens the door and peeks out. Still sleeping, soundly. He serves himself a plate as well, and sits down contently.

Susannetta eats with pleasure. "Alright. I'm going to have a secret of my own. Watch me having a secret. This is my Secret Face, this is. And it's going to be a SUrprise. And I won't tell you."

Yvain watches you with amusement. "I didn't say I won't tell you," he protests.

Susannetta smugly says with a Lancrastian accent: No, but while you're enjoying your secret I'll be enjoying mine.

Susannetta takes a bite. "As soon as I decide what it is."

Yvain murmurs, "Vindictive wench," before it's cut off in appreciation of the food. His eyes close in bliss at the lamb. "Someday, I'll figure out what mix it is you use of cardamom and cinnamon to balance the hot," he promises idly.

Susannetta plaintively says with a Lancrastian accent: I told you it's 2:1, then to taste relative to the hot.

Yvain says, dreamily, "Yes, but when I do that, it never comes out tasting this good." The food disappears quickly.

Susannetta says with a Lancrastian accent: Now, e sure to leave enough for tomorrow. Fro three, in case he's up to it.

Yvain nods, "I am!" he protests, though he gives the pot a rather seductive look even as he takes his plate to the sink to wash.

Susannetta has been idle for 5 minutes and 16 seconds.

Yvain nods, "I am!" he protests, though he gives the pot a rather seductive look even as he takes his plate to the sink to wash.

Susannetta stretches out in her chair, hands crossed over her belly. "So do you think we can leave him for an hour or two to go walking?"

Yvain nods, "He's not in danger, his health's sound. Though I'm tempted to wake him, just so he doesn't wake up alone and worry..." He frowns. "Thoughts? I'm really half and half on it."

Susannetta says with a Lancrastian accent: I'd say do that and see if there's anything he needs, try to feed him, and ask him if there's anything else I should write to Flmaore. I'll tidy up in here.

Yvain nods, and steals a quick kiss. "I'll heat up the soup before I wake him, then." And does so.

Susannetta tidies accordingly.

Yvain finishes warming the soup, fills a mug with it (How convenient, the clever boots bottled it in one serving portions), fills the pitcher and glass, gets some bread, and puts the lot on a tray. He carries it into the living room, and balances it on the coffee-table that's close-by to the futon. Very gently, he strokes the sleeping man's shoulder, his voice quiet. "Passerin?"

Passerin sleeps. He's good at it.

Yvain smiles slightly, and traces the cheek fondly, "Passerin, time to wake up. You need to eat."

Passerin's forehead creases, then the pain returns to his face a moment before his eyes open.

Passerin stares expressionlessly at you.

Yvain's hand moves from cheek to shoulder again. "Food. More soup. Just what I'm sure you were dreaming about." His voice is fond and teasing. "Can't get better without food."

Passerin nods blankly and steels himself to sit up. It's an awkward process.

Yvain moves to help. And hopefully makes it a little less awkward.

Passerin carefully explores methods of leaning like this and using your arm like that so as not to aggravate that.

Passerin quietly says with a desert Ephebian accent: Much better. Less broken inside.

Yvain is good furniture. He's practiced at it. "Good. The tea probably helped with a little of the bruising," he murmurs. "I always feel a bit less like my insides want out when I've had a touch of it." He offers the water first.

Passerin swallows it thirstily and holds out the empty glass for a refill.

Yvain fills it readily. "Susannetta's just writing a letter to Flamore, to let him know that you're safe, and injured, and our guest. Is there anything you'd like her to add to it?"

Passerin's long fingers go quite still.

Acantha from Heaven opens the landing door.

Acantha from Heaven closes the landing door.

Yvain's hand, as support, is a little protective. "What's wrong?"

Passerin coolly says with a desert Ephebian accent: Nothing. There's nothing.

Acantha from Heaven knocks quietly on the door. The Watch is not behind her.

Yvain gives you a sideways look. "Then I'll leave her to the writing of it." He falls a little more serious, then is distracted by the knock. "Are you alright if I go answer, or should I ask Sus to get it?"

Passerin emotes: Susannetta opens the door to Acantha. Her sleeves are rolled up, and she's clearly washing dishes.

Acantha from Heaven smiles at Susannetta. "I came to see Passerin, please?"

Passerin emotes: Susannetta says to Acantha courteously, "Good evening. Yes, I thought you might want to check on our guest."

Yvain hears the door being answered, and remains where he is, as support and furniture.

Passerin emotes: Susannetta smiles. "He's in there, with Yvain. He must have managed to wake him up for dinner, I think I heard voices."

Passerin quietly says with a desert Ephebian accent: It doesn't matter.

Passerin drinks the second glass of water.

Acantha from Heaven asks, quietly, "Do you think they'd mind company?"

Yvain asks softly, his hand moving a sleep-matted lock of hair out of danger of falling into the glass, "Why not?"

Passerin shakes her head with a smile. "Not yours."

Passerin emotes: Susannetta shakes her head with a smile. "Not yours."

Passerin quietly says with a desert Ephebian accent: I can drink soup alone, Yvain.

Acantha from Heaven thanks Sus quietly and heads upstairs.

Yvain says quietly, "You can. But you don't have to."

Passerin emotes: Susannetta d'Almaviva goes back to dishes.

Passerin reaches for the soup silently.

Acantha from Heaven pops her head around the door. "Hello."

Passerin's eyes rise over the mug to take in the new arrival. There's a hint of softening there.

Yvain offers it, and continues his role of supporting the naked-but-covered-waist-down-wiffa-blanket man with his arms and body. He looks up and smiles, "Hello, m'lady...how are you, and how'd it go?"

Acantha from Heaven takes in the tableau, and her smile is warm and reaches her eyes. "Very well. I think the Watch has most of the crew, and friends in non-Morporkian areas of the ciy are helping some of the escapees. We're arranging transport for the ones who want to go home. The Watch would like to talk to you, Passerin, when you're up to it, to make sure they don't hold or release the wrong people."

Yvain says softly, "They caught them, then? And got the sketches that were sent down, I hope?"

Passerin listens quietly, not forgettingn to keep drinking soup.

Acantha from Heaven nods. "The sketches kept at least one from being released. He'd cut himself and was trying to threaten the others to lie and say he was captured, not a slaver."

Passerin quietly says with a desert Ephebian accent: First mate.

Yvain's eyes darken with anger.

Acantha from Heaven nods. "Face that would be handsome except for a scar, and dead dead eyes?"

Passerin nods. "Yellow hair."

Acantha from Heaven nods. "That's him. He's in a cell."

Yvain says quietly, "Thank you."

Acantha from Heaven smiles, and there's a measure of grimness to it. "No thanks needed. It was my honour to help."

Passerin lowers his eyes to his hands, and the bandage around his wrist, and says nothing.

Acantha from Heaven quietly asks Passerin with a Morporkian accent: How are you doing?

Passerin quietly says with a desert Ephebian accent: Less broken inside. Thank you.

Acantha from Heaven kneels beside the bed. "If I can help, I shall. I have...some understanding...of such things."

Passerin returns the empty mug to Yvain, still using both hands, and gingerly touches his ribcage. "Have. Better. Thank you."

Yvain remains quiet, letting the two speak. His hand seems to occupy itself by default by stroking the bit of the other man's shoulder that isn't bruised...admittedly a very small patch. It's unlikely that he realises he's even doing it. He takes the mug, and returns it to the table, automatically offering another glass of water.

Passerin accepts it.

Acantha from Heaven nods. "May I check and see how it's healing?"

Passerin nods silently.

Acantha from Heaven runs her hands, gently, across Passerin's torso, closing her eyes, murmuring prayers to help healing.

Passerin utterly fails to react in a way many men might to an attractive blonde woman running nice hands over their torso, opting instead for lyin gback with eyes closed, sunk in wonder at the strength of your evocation of Gufnork.

Yvain remains furniture and supportive, until such time as it's indicated that it's not wanted.

Acantha from Heaven finishes, the soft fluffy glow around her fading slowly, her expression returning to the Disc. She smiles. "You'll be fine. I am truly sorry that I can't help the bruising, but Susannetta's teas are goood for such things."

Passerin quietly says with a desert Ephebian accent: Nothing's hurt that won't heal.

Yvain says softly, "The Watch is willing to wait a bit, I hope?"

Acantha from Heaven touches Yvain's arm gently as she settles back onto her heels. "They are, yes. We discussed things, they and I."

Yvain smiles at Acantha, "Good." To Passerin, "If you'd like, I'll arrange to be there with you." A rather deep frown. "They can be rather...intimidating, at times."

Passerin quietly asks with a desert Ephebian accent: Why can't they come here?

Yvain says, "Or that, if it's agreeable to them and you."

Acantha from Heaven answers. "They can. It was mentioned. But I wouldn't bring the watch into Yvain's house without his permission."

Passerin quietly says with a desert Ephebian accent: I don't want to go there again.

Yvain's hand strokes a little more intentionally at the man's hair. "Then we'll ask them to come here. You're not under any suspicion, there's no reason why they shouldn't."

Passerin carefully lies down again, incidentally moving away from the hand.

Yvain remains still, his hand returning to his side without comment.

Acantha from Heaven notes both motions, and a faint blush comes to her cheeks. "I can, if you like, arrange for that? Is there a good time?"

Yvain seems unaware of any reason for blushing, and glances at Passerin, "Whenever you like is fine."

Passerin quietly says with a desert Ephebian accent: I'm not moving far.

Acantha from Heaven rises gracefully, then stops as a thought hits her. "A guildmate of yours is in the city, learning our culture. Would you wish her to know you're here, to visit, or not?"

Passerin quietly asks with a desert Ephebian accent: Who?

Acantha from Heaven says with a Morporkian accent: Psyche.

Yvain is a little lost in thought, and only peripherally aware of the conversation.

Passerin smiles faintly. "She won't come. Tell her, if you like."

Acantha from Heaven nods. "I meant only to offer you comfort. If she's not comfort, I shan't bother. I know she finds the city lonely."

Passerin neutrally says with a desert Ephebian accent: She is devoted to the Mountain and its Lord.

Acantha from Heaven looks mildly surprised. "Are you not?"

Passerin quietly says with a desert Ephebian accent: Perhaps.

Passerin watches the fire. That's what it's there for, after all.

Yvain returns to himself, and says softly to Acantha, "Psyche and he didn't...get along well, when last I was there. Not that I rated much higher on her list, though."

Acantha from Heaven looks from face to fire, and back again, then to Yvain. "Ah. Another she's made friends with then." Her tone is light, but irony touches it.

Yvain says quietly, "I believe we...misunderstood each other. On several matters."

Acantha from Heaven says to you with a Morporkian accent: She seems to have a talent for such things, yes.

Yvain glances at the high priestess curiously.

Acantha from Heaven hitches a shoulder. "Well, I haven't seen much of her, for all she was sent to me."

Yvain frowns slightly in thought, a connection clicking. "I...think she was the one Flamore sent to watch over Sus in Brindisi...something about her failing when Sus came back wounded..." His brow furrows.

Acantha from Heaven considers this fact, and several things slip into place, in potentia. "Ah. Hmm. Perhaps I should check up on her, discreetly, then."

Yvain glances at Acantha curiously.

Passerin says quietly, to the fire, "She wants the Lord of the Mountain's bed."

Acantha from Heaven nods to Passerin. "I know. I don't think it's a mutual wanting though."

Yvain says quietly, "Well. I'd think that's a rather...." He hesitates over the word, "common...desire though. I know some of our fencing instructors have to practically beat the female musketeers away."

Acantha from Heaven shakes her head sadly. "Forcing yourself on someone is unfair, regardless of your own desires."

Passerin quietly says with a desert Ephebian accent: She can't.

Passerin quietly says with a desert Ephebian accent: But she can... be rid of enemies.

Acantha from Heaven raises an eyebrow. "Enemies?"

Passerin tries to find the word in Morporkian, and falls back on the Djelian "Competition."

Acantha from Heaven switches to that language. "Has she such competition in the city?"

Yvain says softly to Acantha, "It'll sound...ridiculous in the light of where I am now, and I've only my word as proof when I say it _wasn't_ that, when she accused me...but she tried several times to insinuate, and then right out claim that Susannetta and I were lovers...or that I was trying to be." He frowns a little.

Passerin turns dark, emotionless eyes on Acantha for a moment, then looks pointedly at Yvain, the door, and back to the fire.

Yvain says softly, "I'll leave you two be for a while? Sus and I were going to go for a walk, and if you've company..." He looks torn between wanting to protect, and wanting to be polite and obeying the request.

Acantha from Heaven looks solemnly at Yvain. "Your word is more than sufficient. And given she was attempting to seduce Andrew, while coming to me for help in doing the same to Flamore, I'm not entirely surprised." She catches Passerin's eye, and shakes her head. "No, I don't want to interrupt. Sorry dear."

Acantha from Heaven says to Yvain, "I think, rather, that an ex-wife would be seen as competition to most women."

Passerin remains silent.

Acantha from Heaven says to Passerin with a Morporkian accent: Perhaps, then, I ought to dissuade her of that notion, and several others.

Yvain ahhs, and remains where he is. "Ah." He falls quiet.

Acantha from Heaven smiles wryly. "And, given that, I certainly will make sure to fail to inform her of a guildmate's presence in this home."

Passerin quietly says with a desert Ephebian accent: I'll do what I can.

Acantha from Heaven says to you with a Morporkian accent: Flamore wouldn't send her for that.

Passerin quietly says with a desert Ephebian accent: If he had there'd be nothing I could do.

Acantha from Heaven confidently says with a Morporkian accent: He wouldn't.

Yvain takes his own turn of regarding the fire. "No, I'm sure he wouldn't. I've sparred with her, and while I'm sure her abilities have improved since, so have mine, and I'm not about to let my weapon be turned aside for a woman's vanity if those I love are in danger."

Acantha from Heaven holds her hands out to stop the thoughts. "She failed to protect once. Now she's here, after I asked for protection. If she so much as attempts to harm Susannetta..." her lips thin, "there will be a reckoning."

Passerin neutrally says with a desert Ephebian accent: I have no desire to know the relations between the Sayyid and his wife.

Acantha from Heaven quietly says with a Morporkian accent: They are no longer man and wife.

Yvain says softly to Acantha, though perhaps with different meaning intended, "Yes. There will be."

Acantha from Heaven meets Yvain's eyes. "She's not under my protection. She will not be. But I do feel some responsibility to Flamore for her. I will take up my neglected task there, and make sure, so that you don't have to."

Yvain says quietly, "And I will do my duty, as fiancee, and as host, and if she threatens any of those in my charge, I will deal with her as I see fit." It's not a vow. But the soft growling undertone of the voice lends the same level of commitment to it as if it was.

Passerin stares into the fire expressionlessly.

Acantha from Heaven's nod is accepting, without protest. "You're a man of honour, I'd expect no less." Then she smiles, her voice lightning. "But this is hardly sickroom conversation, I am sorry."

Yvain says quietly to Passerin, "There's bread, too..if you think your stomach can handle it," as his eyes light on the tray.


Passerin quietly says with a desert Ephebian accent: Tomorrow. Thank you.

Yvain nods, and rises to take the tray, less the pitcher and waterglass, back into the kitchen.

Passerin lies back, quiet and still.


Passerin emotes: Susannetta has long finished the dishes and discreetly moved on to other household tasks that don't involve, for instance, going into the room that has Acanth ain it.

Yvain slips his arms around Susannetta in a long, loving hug. "Don't know how much longer, but walk when everyting's done?" he asks, hopefully.

Passerin emotes: Susannetta d'Almaviva says softly, "Whenever you're ready, love. Just look after them."

Passerin emotes: Susannetta d'Almaviva kisses Yvain's forehead.

Yvain smiles slightly at Susannetta-with-the-sudden-last-name.

Yvain nuzzles a little deeper into the hug for a moment, before heading back.

Yvain catches himself about to sit on the bed, then elects for one of the armchairs, instead.

Acantha from Heaven quietly speaks to Passerin. "You did very well, although you may not be willing to grant it to yourself yet." She turns to the door.

Passerin gently says with a desert Ephebian accent: You don't know that.

Acantha from Heaven looks back. "I do. You escaped, on your own, and saved others."

Passerin smiles faintly.

Passerin quietly says with a desert Ephebian accent: I think I will sleep again.

Yvain bites his lip slightly, but remains quiet.

Acantha from Heaven inclines her head. "Sleep well." She makes a sign of blessing. She touches Yvain's arm, supporttively, on the way past.

Yvain rises to offer a hug.

Passerin remains, true to form, oblivious to either fact or need of reassurance.

Acantha from Heaven hugs Yvain tightly, rubbing his back.

Yvain looks a little startled but, hey, backrub. Yay!

Passerin closes his eyes as his body quietly tugs him back towards healing sleep.

Yvain moves from the hug to refill the water glass and makes sure it's close to the futon. Quietly, "If we're not here when you wake, we'll be back soon after." Almost an afterthought, "I'm sorry."

Acantha from Heaven releases Yvain well before she really wants to. "Thank you. I'll make sure to protect as I can."

Yvain nods to Acantha, "Thank you."

Susannetta knocks quietly on the door to offer drinks.

Acantha from Heaven nods. "You're welcome." She opens the door to a Susannetta, and jumps back a little, surprised.

Susannetta remembered to include milk.

Yvain says softly, "He's going to sleep, perhaps the kitchen would be better?"

Susannetta politely says to Acantha from Heaven with a Lancrastian accent: And we've some curry and hot flat bread left over from dinner, if you're hungry.

Susannetta nods and stands back to let you both through, with a glance through to the boy.

Acantha from Heaven follows, picking up the bag she'd left behind earlier. "I wouldn't want to be a trouble."

Yvain says quietly, "It'd not be offered if you were."

Acantha from Heaven inhales, curry and bread. "If you don't mind then, yes please. It's likely to be late before I'm home tonight."

Susannetta nods and heads back into the kitchen, getting out the food again and setting to making coffee for herself and Yvain. "We'd no other plans for the evening, beside a walk a little later, so you're hardly imposing."

Acantha from Heaven offers to help. "Thank you. It's deeply appreciated."

Susannetta offers her plates. "How's Andrew since you're back?"

Acantha from Heaven sets the table. "He's well enough. I don't think seeing his parents is particularly good for him, but he's certainly found a focus."

Susannetta asks with a Lancrastian accent: The village?

Acantha from Heaven nods. "And legal reform."

Susannetta chuckles. "Caring for other people less fortunate, and trying to make the world better. Well, that'll keep anyone occupied for life."

Yvain quietly helps with coffee cleanup before taking a seat at the table in front of a mug.

Acantha from Heaven helps herself to a piece of flatbread. "And well occupied."

Susannetta quietly says with a Lancrastian accent: Exercise of mind, body and heart.


Acantha from Heaven nods. Curry goes well in flatbread, rolled up and eaten neatly out of hand.

Yvain says softly, "I'm sure it'll be good for him. Something to work at, that's for a good cause, is a noble way of spending time."

Acantha from Heaven agrees with her mouth full. She swallows. "He's a good man."

Yvain nods in agreement. "He is that."

Susannetta smiles. "And who knows? Maybe after doing work like this for a few years he may actually start to believe that himself."

Acantha from Heaven returns the smile. "I certainly hope so. How was your trip back?"

Susannetta smiles at Yvain. "Blissfully quiet. Yours?"

Yvain smiles, "Relaxing, thank you. Yours was well, I hope?" He winks affectionately and quite shamelessly at Susannetta.

Acantha from Heaven laughs quietly. "I see. Well, I'm glad it was so...quiet."

Susannetta bats at Yvain. And takes revenge! "Did you know he chases sticks?"

Yvain sips his coffee contently.

Acantha from Heaven arches an eyebrow. "Yes, yes I did." Her meaning is far lewder.

Susannetta snickers.

Yvain continues sipping. It's the steam making his cheeks red, he's not blushing.

Susannetta gravely says with a Lancrastian accent: It's a compulsive thing, I'm sure. Now matter how many I sent him after he just couldn't restrain himself from diving in after the next.

Acantha from Heaven tries to change the subject. "Did you use butter or oil on the flatbreads?"

Yvain gives Susannetta a teasing look, "And if you didn't get such a joy out of watching me chase them, perhaps I'd stop," he says with a quiet sip.

Susannetta says with a Lancrastian accent: Ghee, actually.

Susannetta musses your hair.

Acantha from Heaven says with a Morporkian accent: Ah. I was wondering.

Susannetta says with a Lancrastian accent: I prefer to, when I'm cooking curries, because I usually use ghee rather than oil in those.

Acantha from Heaven nods. "I tend not to make ghee, just because the solids seem like a waste. I use schmaltz though, sometimes.

Yvain is clearly contemplating sticks.

Susannetta glances sideways at Yvain. "Schmaltz? What's that?"

Acantha from Heaven answers, "Rendered chicken fat. Bright yellow, good flavour."

Yvain nods, "I think it's more common in Morpork than elsewhere," he says.

Susannetta looks curious. "I must try that sometime. That would be like chicken stock, I suppose, for hte flavour?"

Acantha from Heaven nods. "Likely. And yes, rather like chicken stock, but milder. Very rich, and a little goes a long way."

Susannetta and Acantha from Heaven are standing here.

Susannetta thoughtfully says with a Lancrastian accent: I imagine youd have to use a very high quality version - it sounds like the sort of thing that would be easy to make badly, especially in this city.

Yvain says, "I tend to do something similar with bacon when I cook it...only the good stuff though, yes. The quality makes rather a large difference, as always."

Acantha from Heaven nods. "Actual chickens, not turkey, squab, or sparrows."

Susannetta finishes her coffee and sits back. "You'll have to show me where to get it from."

Yvain rises quietly from his coffee and peeks in on the other room to make sure the sleeping man is, well, sleeping and not in any clear distress.

Acantha from Heaven chuckles. "Well, basically, the next time you roast a chicken, pour off and strain the drippings."

Susannetta laughs. "I suppose butter and oil are basically fat themselves."

Acantha from Heaven nods. "Although churning butter's a lot more work." Her eyes twinkle. "I used to be very good at it."

Susannetta raises an eyebrows and smirks faintly.

Yvain murmurs distractedly, "Never did have the patience for it myself, takes forever."

Acantha from Heaven chuckles. "Patience, at least, I've always been good at."

Susannetta says with a Lancrastian accent: Well, it does, but it can be very rewarding.

Acantha from Heaven grins. "Especially if you get to stop halfway, at whipped cream."

Susannetta coughs hurriedly.

Yvain doesn't seem to notice, as he pours himself more coffee. "Too much dribbling," he mutters. "Every time I tried, I ended up with wet trousers."

Susannetta stares at Yvain, then bursts out laughing.

Acantha from Heaven joins in.

Yvain looks up, puzzled. "Eh?"

Acantha from Heaven cheerfully says with a Morporkian accent: The motion, dear...

Acantha from Heaven mimics it with her hand.

Yvain asks confusedly, "Stabbing?"

Acantha from Heaven grins. She moves her hand over her waist instead. "Not precisely."

Susannetta mutely hands Acantha a coffee cup to demonstrate on, admittedly a rather optimistic example.

Yvain stares blankly. "But you don't have one of those..."

Yvain adds, for good measure, "I know."

Acantha from Heaven blushes. "No, but I rather enjoy handling them. You, on the other hand, appartly find it takes forever and gets your pants wet."

Susannetta examines her fingers with quiet amusement.

Yvain's brain seems to be having a slow day, or he's distracted. "Oh. Er. Well, it's true nonetheless." More coffee, with sugar. "Blasted nuisance."

Susannetta laughs softly.

Acantha from Heaven hands the coffee cup back, her hand briefly in her lap to wipe it in case there was a dribble.

Acantha from Heaven grins. "Sorry, dearling. Didn't mean to roam away from chicken fat on you."

Yvain shakes his head slightly, "S'ok." Coffee.

Susannetta says with a Lancrastian accent: And that's the marvellous thing about a city like this. There's plenty of people who specialise in that and make their living in selling it to all those people who don't, so we can concentrate on other things.

Acantha from Heaven isn't entirely sure how to respond. "Well, it does offer some comfort to others."

Susannetta laughs. "Actually, this time I was just talking about churning butter."

Acantha from Heaven says with a Morporkian accent: Oh! Well, that too I suppose.

Yvain glances at his hands a moment, and murmurs a quiet, "Will be right back." An odd feeling of jitteriness settles at his spine, and he meanders to the front hall, to lock the door and, with a satisfied glance, check the windows. He draws the blinds as well, while out, before returning to his coffee.

Acantha from Heaven tilts her head curiously at Yvain.

Susannetta reaches out a hand to lay on Yvain's arm reassuringly when he comes back. "There's a reason why no one I know who has to make their bread from grain and their milk from cow has time to spend long hours up all night writing chapters on the fokl beliefs regarding lycanthropy in northeastern Uberwald."

Yvain shakes his head, "Just thought I'd forgotten," he explains, then smiles at Susannetta. "Well. It's rather easier to do a lot of that stuff at once, then everyone doing their own. I know in Bois, that's how they try to manage things...a few people see to each thing for lots of people, and everyone ends up with more time to..." He stops, an odd look on his face. "Well. To discuss, compare, and admire wood." That one, at least, registers.

Acantha from Heaven laughs softly.

Susannetta chuckles.

Acantha from Heaven cheerfully says with a Morporkian accent: I shall have to visit Bois. Maybe set up a chapel there.

Susannetta says with a Lancrastian accent: Bois. A fascinating town.

Susannetta musingly asks with a Lancrastian accent: And is it a custom there for the lumberjacks to wear female clothing?

Yvain says direly to Acantha, "You'd think that. But...they really are just talking about wood. All the time." He nods to Susannetta happily, "Occasionally. It makes the trees happy, they say."

Susannetta says with a Lancrastian accent: Yes. Yes, I can see how it would.

Acantha from Heaven grins. "All the better to distract them with, my dear."

Yvain says suddenly, "So why do you think she's here?" Directed to Acantha.

Acantha from Heaven bites her lower lip. "I think it's a second chance for her."

Susannetta raises one eyebrow.

Yvain explains with a word, "Psyche." He looks a little anxious.

Susannetta asks with a Lancrastian accent: Psyche? Back again?

Acantha from Heaven quietly says with a Morporkian accent: Flamore sent her to me.

Susannetta asks with a Lancrastian accent: Wasn't she here just a few weeks ago?

Yvain nods, "Still."

Acantha from Heaven nods. "She's to stay until recalled. I don't think she'll be recalled soon, as I dooubt she's doing what Flamore wanted."

Susannetta looks questioningly between you.

Yvain says a little anxiously, "Passerin suggested that she was here to remove competition."

Acantha from Heaven explains, "She came with a note, asking me to help her, if I felt so inclined. She definitely does not want to be here."

Yvain fidgets a little. Must be the coffee.

Susannetta asks with a Lancrastian accent: So why the mystery?

Acantha from Heaven smiles slightly helplessly, "You know Flamore. I went and askedd him for help. I think she's it. He likely also managed to rid himself of a problem, and give her a second chance, all at once."

Yvain says a little agitatedly, "I'm not about to have any assassin, competent or blundering, trying to hurt you." He rises suddently and wanders upstairs to check the windows there, too.

Susannetta laughs. "Hurt me? Why would she try to hurt.."

Susannetta trails off with a frown.

Acantha from Heaven quietly says with a Morporkian accent: She wouldn't. Flamore would have her killed.

Yvain checks under beds. And in closets. And behind furniture, even though it would take a very skinny assassin to manage.

Susannetta eyes Yvain. "No, probably not. But we're not going to convince this one of that, are we?"

Acantha from Heaven gently says with a Morporkian accent: Yvain? You're jumping at shadows.

Yvain's eyes look touched by fear, "I hope so." He works on checking the rest of the house.

Acantha from Heaven stands, leaving half a piece of curried flatbread on her plate. "Yvain?"

Susannetta comfortably says with a Lancrastian accent: Love, Flamore wouldn't have me killed.

Susannetta says with a Lancrastian accent: Not for his own emotion. Even if he wanted me dead.

Yvain pauses briefly, "Mm?" To Susannetta, "It's not him I'm worried about."

Susannetta shrugs. "If I know anything at all about his relationship to his guild, and I admit I don't know much, it's that he'd never use it as a means to his personal end, his own weapon. That would be an anathema to him."

Acantha from Heaven's shocked expression is turned to Sus. "He ...you..." She sighs. "Yvain, Psyche's not coming after Susannetta. She knows you're engaged. There'd be no profit in it for her." try logic.

Susannetta looks mildly surprised at Acantha's shocked look.

Yvain says quietly, "It doesn't matter, I have to be ready in case she is, or someone else, or..." His hand shakes a little as he tries to ease the latch, rusted slightly in the "unlocked" position on the window open.

Susannetta gently says with a Lancrastian accent: Unless they're using silver weapons, love, I'm not worried.

Susannetta says with a Lancrastian accent: And I won't have you living in constant paranoia.

Acantha from Heaven catches at Yvain's arm. "Yvain. Stop. You're doing it again, like the last time you came home, remember?"

Yvain says, "They can still hit YOU," he says, the emotion catching in his voice in answer to Susannetta. He draws back a little, scared. "Yes, and it kept her safe, and it's the same, and I have to keep her safe because if I don't, she'll be hurt or worse and..and it'll..." He shakes his head. "I _failed_, again and again, and I _can't_ this time."

Yvain pushes a little harder on the lock, the indentation in his hand a darkening red.

Susannetta stands up, sets her coffee mug down and firmly tugs Yvain away from the window and into her arms.

Acantha from Heaven looks at Susanetta and Yvain. She speaks low and firm. "Yvain, no one's coming. But locking your heart, your love, oon an ivory tower is foolish. And you DIDN'T fail."

Yvain shakes his head and tries to remain at the window, "Love, I have to, if I don't and something happened, and I knew I had to and didn't..." He tenses, "I knew I shouldn't have left, and I did, and it was _bad_ and I'll bear the punishment for that but I'll be damned if it's going to happen again." His voice is low, almost a growl, though the frustration's at the latch. If he was a little more sensible, he'd probably notice that there's _also_ a button that needs to be pressed for it to release.

Acantha from Heaven softly says with a Morporkian accent: She's safe. No one's out to get her.

Susannetta gently presses the button, then takes your hand away and kisses it.

Susannetta softly says with a Lancrastian accent: I am also a full-grown woman, love, able to take my own risks.

Yvain says quietly, "We should go to the cottage. All of us. They don't know about it, and you'll all be safe, and if Andrew's mother does something, no one'll be here to be hurt, and you'll all be safe, and I can get us food out there, and it'll be good."

Susannetta gently says with a Lancrastian accent: And hide from the world, love? Sometimes that's good. But you can't do it forever..

Acantha from Heaven shakes her head. "No. It would be very very bad. Yvain, you're panicking, the same way Andrew does."

Yvain says insistently, "But he's _RIGHT_ when he does."

Acantha from Heaven quietly says with a Morporkian accent: No. He's not. And you've talked him down more than once.

Yvain makes an impatient gesture, "Well, yes, but that's just because he's not right _then_, but he's still _right_. And he pushes people away, and I'm nto doing THAT, I just want you all safe, where I can be there and know that you are and don't have to go away and worry that things'll break because they can't, and it'll be good."

Susannetta has been idle for 2 minutes and 45 seconds.

Susannetta kisses you firmly.

Susannetta attempts to do the 'peace, i will stop your mouth' thing.

Acantha from Heaven quietly presses the open lock button, and unlocks the door. "We're fine. We'll be fine. The danger's imaginary, and you need to stand down."

Yvain pauses and stares blankly at both of you for a moment. "And you don't believe me."

Susannetta quietly says with a Lancrastian accent: I believe you're worried. And I believe there may be a slight possibility of danger. But little more than ever, love, and certainly not worth getting worked up about.


Yvain's shoulders slump slightly.

Susannetta touches Yvain's cheek. "And one that you're entirely capable of immunising me against. Tonight, if you like."

Acantha from Heaven quietly says with a Morporkian accent: I believe you. And Ceirseach. For the same reasons.

Acantha from Heaven stares briefly at Susannetta, her eyes shuttering.

Acantha from Heaven says with a Morporkian accent: Perhaps you oughtn't try that with an injured man in your house.

Acantha from Heaven's voice is neutral.

Yvain's eyes are closed, and he stands fairly insensate, processing.

Yvain says quietly, "But you think I'm wrong. Both of you do?" The question is also neutral.

Acantha from Heaven says with a Morporkian accent: I do, yes. Especially the idea of staying in a cottage. But the idea that anything's lurking? Yes.

Yvain's shoulders slump a little more.

Susannetta softly says with a Lancrastian accent: I think you're scared and overreacting, but you've been right about these things before, when I thought you weren't.

Yvain's eyes close a little, and his voice when it comes is controlled, "Then I'll try to mitigate what's instinct."

Acantha from Heaven's shoulders relax a little. "Thank you."

Susannetta gently says with a Lancrastian accent: I also know what my instinct is when I think people I love are in danger, so I have a fair idea of what the wolf is screaming at the idea.

Yvain says quietly, "No. Not the wolf. The man. For everything except running."

Acantha from Heaven firmly says with a Morporkian accent: All real men try to protect their loved ones. But herding and trapping isn't right.

Susannetta laughs. "Maybe he's a sheepdog?"

Acantha from Heaven grits her teeth. "He's YVAIN." Her fingers whiten on the knob.

Susannetta gently says with a Lancrastian accent: And none the less Yvain for his ancestors, any more than Andrew is.

Yvain says quietly, "I'm not trying to trap anyone."

Acantha from Heaven says to Susannetta with a Morporkian accent: I would never call An-

Acantha from Heaven stops. "Thank you for the meal. I appreciate it. I have to go."

Yvain's eyes close, and his head drops a little, though mostly in frustration. "Dammit."

Susannetta sighs.

Susannetta says with a Lancrastian accent: As you like.

Acantha from Heaven speaks to Yvain. "Stop it. You haven't the right." She turns the knob, opening the door. "I'll have the Watch by in the morning, if that's acceptable."

Yvain freezes in his place, his shoulders tense. "If it's what you wish."

Susannetta rises, a return to earlier formality. "To speak with Passerin?"

Yvain's expression is ashen, and he keeps his eyes on the floor.

Acantha from Heaven sighs at Yvain. "No. It's not what I wish. But it seems to be what is, and I'm trying so very hard to adapt."

Yvain says quietly, "It's not mine to question," he says hollowly, trapped by the words.

Susannetta gently says with a Lancrastian accent: It's both of yours, and it's for the pair of you to work out what you both want. I'm going to check on the boy.

Susannetta leaves the room.

Acantha from Heaven shakes her head. "It's always yours to question. It's not yours to damn yourself."

Yvain says tightly, "I'm not. I can't."

Acantha from Heaven simply asks with a Morporkian accent: What do you need?

Yvain says quietly, "More than I've the right to ask. By both your words."

Acantha from Heaven closes the door, and locks it. "I asked more than I had a right to, once. If you ask, at least I know."

Yvain says hollowly, his eyes down. "You're not mine to protect, you're his. He said, you said. And I'll bow to that, m'lady, because it's true and beyond any challenge I could raise to it."

Acantha from Heaven blinks. "What ARE you talking about?"

Yvain says, distractedly, "He said it, when he was here, and it's true and I've know it was true, and you said I haven't the right, and. it. doesn't. matter. anymore." The last words are spoken if he's trying to will them to be true.

Acantha from Heaven quietly says with a Morporkian accent: I don't recall Andrew ever saying such thing. And I welcome your protection, but within limits. As for it not mattering anymore," her voice grows taut, "if that's teh change you've chosen, you've no right to hurt me with it."

Yvain starts slightly as if struck. "You weren't here. And your right. I haven't the right, and I'm sorry."

Yvain adds a 're there.

Acantha from Heaven quietly says with a Morporkian accent: I don't know when you decided that I wasn't to be protected, that somehow Andrew assumed me like a piece of property. But it offends me, and it hurts me, and I wish you'd stop rubbing my nose in the idea that I'm not yours anymore. I know it. I'm srry about it. But it wasn't my choice. YOU chose."

Yvain reels again, his voice low and hoarse, "I didn't. I didn't choose, I found out, and I couldn't change it and I can't and I _can't_ Acantha, it took faith away and I can't protect you not because I chose not to but because he said it's _his_ and I knew it all along, just the same way he's _yours_ and as much as I'm allowed, you're both mine, but I can't, not with doubt, not when I have to stop and look at everything and wonder how it's going to be seen and if _that's_ going to be what breaks it and proves it right and don't you dare say I chose, I didn't _get_ a choice in it." It's an effort, but is voice neither raises nor drops significantly, though it's rather more ragged sounding.

Acantha from Heaven half-frowns, puzzling through the words. She steps towards Yvain, and wraps him in a fierce hug. "Andrew DOESN'T speak for me. I'm NOT his. I'm MINE, you silly man. And I love you."

Yvain says quietly, shaking slightly, "I love you too." He swallows. "And that, I chose, and still choose, but the rest...don't...say that what's not mine, is."

Acantha from Heaven quietly says with a Morporkian accent: Yvain, I don't understand. You're being very vague, and I can't follow the logic.

Yvain closes his eyes for a moment, decides that's easier, and keeps them that way. After a moment, "You're his and he's yours. Differently than you're both mine. It's always been. You'll always go to him first, if he can help, and he to you. You're each others, not owned. But stronger than either of you are mine. And that's alright, it's always been alright, more would make you both unhappy, and I don't want that. But saying it's not true is like saying that night doesn't come after day." Another breath. "You love me. I know that. I love you too. And you trust me. And I you. But you can't have faith in me any more. And I accept that, and I understand that, and for the love of all the gods, I'm trying not to be hurt by it because I know that's not what you mean, not what you intend...but you're a priest, and that's what _matters_. And it's gone, and I can't do anything to get it back, all I can do is _not_ prove it right. And pretending that doesn't make a change to anything...that's just lying."

Acantha from Heaven holds you tightly. "Yvain, love. I'm yours differently than his. But it's..." she snuggles you gently. "Look, Yvain, I know that when we three were together, that I'm moon to his sun - that alone you wouldn't be interested. And yes, I would go to him first, moreso now than before, because you have someone and he doesn't. But being yours and being his aren't connected. They're separate. Your claims on me don't, can't, contradict. So if he said something, something that's made you back away like this, I tell you true - he hasn't the right to touch what's between us. As for faith...you tell me I'm not allowed ot defend you when people call you a dog, and say things that they wouldn't have said two months ago. Two months ago, this behaviour would be soldier home from war, as it was before, but now, suddenly, it's "the wolf". There is NO wolf. There's just you, and knowing or not knowing changes nothing. You're not a dog, not an animal. I only stay silent because you told me to. "

Yvain says quietly, "You accuse me, and Andrew both, of hearing what we want to hear, and not the words. And you do it every time you frame what you think I feel." He sighs. "There is a wolf. And it's me. And there is a man. And it's me too. And I can't pretend either of them aren't there. And I know that it's supposed to be the wolf that's more dangerous, that it's the wolf that makes me a m...that makes me different, but it _isn't_. Everything I've done that's bad, that leaves me with nightmares and scared, was as a man. Everything. That's what's evil, and bad, and that people should be scared of and aren't. They can call me a dog, or tease about fetching...and I welcome it, because it's at least harmless." He looks seriously at the priestess. "You said you can't have faith in me without contradicting your faith in the church. If I try to make you have faith in me, then I _am_ a danger to you, and to a faith that's at your core, and I _am_ tarnishing what's pure and good and holy. And if I don't try, you think I'm making the choice not to care about you. I'd rather be the cause of you being mistaken, than of you being an apostate."

Acantha from Heaven winces. "Only time makes me apostate." It's as much confession as statement.

Yvain says quietly, "I'm not making you choose. And if you have to, I want it to be for your church. But don't...don't tell me it's my choice, and don't you dare tell me I'm trying to hurt you with it."