shelley_winters | (no subject)

(no subject)

It was hard to concentrate, once she got to work - and she'd only got there on time by getting ready mechanically; teeth, shower, clothes, breakfast - and she didn't even have much in her inbox to look at. One set of figures didn't seem to make sense for almost twenty minutes before she noticed she'd misread the email they came with, and bit her lip hard enough to hurt before changing them.

And about an hour and a half later, Mr. Mayor came in, and blinked at her presence.

And said, wasn't today her day off...?

So before it it's even lunchtime, Shelley sits on the couch with a slowly cooling cup of tea, looking distantly into space.

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Rather sheepishly, Elan glanced away. Well... this was certainly embarrassing.

"Oh, I was merely remembering an article I had meant to write but I did not have occasion to ever do so."

Shelley pauses a beat too long, eyes dropping to the back of the couch and back up to him again.

"Nothing's stopping you now."

With a small sigh, he shook his head, commenting softly.

"I should doubt if I will have occasion to have it published."

Shelley snorts.

"So? Write it anyway."

Then she pauses, remembering another time, and something he had said...

Quieter, "Besides. I could send it for you. Or you could do so anonymously."

Beat.

"Unless it's just the fame and adulation you want."

Elan shook his head, sitting down in a chair across from her.

"The article I was responding to was in The Second Age. I doubt the field exists at all here, but thank you for the offer."

Shelley shrugs, and looks away again, bereft for anything else to talk about.

"Fine, then," she says lamely.

Elan glanced over, inquiring curiously of her. It was odd that she was home so early in the day.

"How was your day?"

Inexplicably, Shelley reddens.

"Fine," she says shortly.

Elan noted the blushing, but said nothing. His voice fairly dispassionate as he put on a cup of tea.

"You are home early, then."

"Yes."

There is a palpable lack of any further comment.

After a time, Elan walked back into the room carrying two cups of tea. Setting both down on the coffee table, Elan sat down beside her to drink his cup of tea.

Shelley looks down.

"I already have..."

A completely cold cup of tea.

"...Right. Thanks."

Elan nodded calmly.

"You are welcome."

He took a long sip of his tea.

Shelley picks up her new cup, and cradles in in her hands. It's almost too hot on her palms, but she doesn't put it down again.

"Where did you go?" she asks after a too-long silence.

Elan sets his cup of tea down.

"To the library. I shelve books for them."

Once a famous scholar... now he shelved books. What a bitter irony.

Shelley nods silently, remembering him telling her about it. Funny.

She takes a sip of tea, wincing at the too-hot liquid.

Elan sighed, closing his eyes as he took a long sip of his tea.

"It is rather dull, I must confess."

"You don't have to do it."

He could stay here, explore the town. Just read the books instead of shelving them.

Elan nodded calmly, his voice uneasy as he commented. He has doing lots of reading, but there is only so much leisure a man can take before he must work.

"I do not have to do so, but... I need to do something."

Shelley bites her lip bitterly. To do something. She feels there should be an icy retort here about what his abductions denied her, but she can't.

There's nothing there when she tries to find anger, only hurt.

"Oh."

Glancing over, he inquired of her softly. There were any number of things that they were not speaking of, but sometimes giving them voice was useful.

"Is something the matter?"

Shelley puts her mug down.

"Yes. I'm scared, and confused, and I don't like you, and it's not going away."

She had spoken quickly, in order not to stop herself, and wishes she hadn't as soon as she finishes. The girl laces her fingers together hard, and stares at them.

He blinked in surprise.

That was a rigorous honesty from her.

Sipping on his tea long after he would otherwise have stopped, Elan stalled to give himself time to think.

"There is nothing wrong with feeling a certain way."

Shelley laughs in a way that shouldn't properly even be called laughter, she thinks, if there's nothing happy in it.

"It certainly feels wrong!"

Setting his tea down, he frowned slightly and explained calmly. He was gaining ground here.

"But it is not wrong. People feel about other people what they do, and that is simply the way it is. There is nothing wrong with it."

"Not that," she says unhappily.

"Everything. I'm not- I mean, you're here, but y-you're not... I mean."

She takes a deep breath, and sighs quietly.

"It should be getting better."

Elan put his hand over hers gently. His voice was soft and quiet.

"Things will get better, but... You should not fight things. Sometimes, one has to swim with the current to avoid drowning."

"And if the current is flowing to... somewhere I don't want to be?" Shelley asks, losing track of the metaphor.

Her hands curl tighter under his.

Sometimes, one did not have a choice at all. With a distant look, he spoke quietly.

"My current gives me no option, even if I swim with it, I will drown... There is no escape. I will die. I have never heard of anyone with even half my power living more than a year or so. Some live longer, but... not many at all."

Shelley pulls her hands away.

"We've discussed that," she says sharply.

He took a long sip of his tea, a troubled look on his face.

"Thank you."

She frowns, and crosses her arms.

"For what? Telling you something perfectly logical?"

She cheered him up. That was all there was to it. She made him feel better, even if they were fighting. Leaning over, he kissed her cheek chastely.

"For being you."

Taking her cold glass of tea, and his own, he rose from his seat and began to walk towards the kitchen.

"I hate you!" she calls after his retreating figure, and curls her legs up angrily.

Stupid... evil person.

And for all he knows, she might have wanted to drink that tea!

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