( there are few things worse than the fever-sweats of detox — facing alia just happens to be the crowning champion of the list. she is, for a moment, irrationally envious of kettlewing's brain, so empty it whistles with steam. blissfully oblivious, in only a way a bird-brained creature could manage to be. wouldn't it be nice, to live without these memories crowding her brain, anxieties cluttering and cramping the space?
it's a good pause of wrestling with a response (and the water in her stomach, attempting to bubble back up) — )
👍 good work, he looks impossibly more dashing. i think he likes it. i can tell these things
( that's mother's intuition, or just crybaby to crybaby communication, where kettlewing is concerned. )
I think you're right. I'd make one out of a walnut shell or acorn cap, but they're under the snow. Perhaps a scarf next. He has a lot of neck to keep warm.
[She feels clumsy, unsure, like a giant tiptoing through a field of daisies. Or something equally ungainly.]
I remembered to tell Gale to sweep the tops of the shelves. They won't be dusty when you come back.
scarf might be pushing it he likes to fly as close to fire as he can get. last time he almost fell into the fireplace
( a little like brushing her wings up against the edges of this conversation, if she's honest. icarus longed for melted wings; alina flinches from the risk of venturing into dangerous territory. )
oh. good i don't think we'll have to worry about dust ever again, after all this caroline volunteered to clean for me. i think she likes doing it or she's gone a bit mad. either feels possible at this point
Mmmm. Maybe a little jacket, then. Something made out of wool, to keep him warm outside, while his tea keeps him warm inside. Do we have anyone working who can sew?
[Tiptoeing, tiptoeing like their last conversations hadn't happened, like the night in Alia's room was a bad dream, a sour memory, too much wine with dinner, too many hours spent gazing at the wintry sky. Back to normal, that's what Alina wants, Paul had said. Alia wants what Alina wants.]
Did she? She's very kind that way. She told me all about what happened in my books, you know. Is she going to come work for [us] you?
( as if she's in any condition. her stomach churns freshly anew to reflect on caroline at all — her judgment hadn't felt so helpful to alina, in the throes of resculpt's delirium. it sticks like a burr in the back of her brain, hardly caroline's fault in their mutual states, but the thorn lodges deep all the same. )
that sounds like caroline. she likes to be helpful if she wants to, i'm not going to say no. paul will lose his mind without the help if kettlewing keeps spilling himself
When you're better. [Firmly, like this is a cold or a flu, a bug that'll worm it's way through and eventually out of Alina, that'll pass away with enough rest and citrus and hot tea.]
I can help. I can learn. I can be better at it. [It comes out too quick, and Alia knows it, tries to grab for the shreds of her composure, tries to keep from prostrating herself like a penitent, begging for forgiveness.] I think the boys might unionize to overthrow me if I don't learn to do SOMETHING useful.
( better. as if some version of herself hadn't been striving obsessively, hopelessly, to meet that criteria. she flinches from the word, how it knocks on her brain, inviting the reminder back in. )
at cleaning????? you don't like to clean nick and hyunsu are too nice to throw you out august wouldn't bother with it and gale is ...... well, gale is gale it's fine. i think caroline just wants to keep busy, anyway
( still, alia hadn't hesitated to be honest with her, even when reading it back felt like being vivisected. it makes her less gentle with wielding the truth, like waving around a blunt instrument, none of her usual tiptoeing: )
[Have a suspicious look, Kettlewing. Have you thirsted over Armand, lately, little teabird?
Then, after a pause:] Afterwards, can I come visit? If you're feeling well enough. Tim's promised me sweets in exchange for teaching him to fight. I want to make sure my list is right.
or, and i know this might be so shocking for anyone to consider, perhaps it has nothing to do with me being an afterthought of paul's "taste in men" and everything to do with trying to take care of things for me as best he could
( out from her fingers, before she can pretend the joke doesn't grate — doesn't graze up against the cuts and scrapes that had opened under resculpt's fingertips, prying its hands into her insecurities, her faults — when the joke hinges on minimalizing her. how funny it must be for stupid little alina starkov to think anything has ever been solely and strictly about her. )
i'm not feeling well enough for visitors maybe after i stop spewing my breakfast every time i try
[Another of those pauses, lining up the events of the past few days, the brittle sharpness of Alina's retort, putting them in their places and seeing them all at once, all together.]
It's not shocking. You're probably right. Paul is caring and thoughtful that way. He thinks of your comfort above all.
[The implication: Alia does not. Alia is careless and brute force and thoughtless hands. Alia grew in the same womb, but fed on conniving and cunning and backhanded words instead of love and kindness and gentleness.]
( a pointed correction: that includes alia as much, if not more, than alina herself. )
okay. paul can let you know when i'm accepting visitors. and if it's all the same to you, i'd rather not hear about tim unless you do want me to get nauseous.
( she won't begrudge alia teaching a defenseless man to sharpen himself, won't wish ill upon him, after all that he'd equally suffered — but for the role he played in paul's death, for the secret he'd kept at the risk of her own life, she has no love or mercy or trust left to spare. )
He does. [Before his own, at any rate, bleeding-heart, open-soul, soft-smiling Paul. All things good and bright, all things sweet and temperate. Alia cannot hate him, but she can envy, now as from within Jessica's womb, envy and love and grieve her brother, her father, her mother, her god.]
All things are the same to me. I will make a nuisance of myself to Paul, and to Gale and to Nick and to Hyunsu, until you have recovered. Rest well, Alina.
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it's a good pause of wrestling with a response (and the water in her stomach, attempting to bubble back up) — )
👍
good work, he looks impossibly more dashing.
i think he likes it. i can tell these things
( that's mother's intuition, or just crybaby to crybaby communication, where kettlewing is concerned. )
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Perhaps a scarf next. He has a lot of neck to keep warm.
[She feels clumsy, unsure, like a giant tiptoing through a field of daisies. Or something equally ungainly.]
I remembered to tell Gale to sweep the tops of the shelves. They won't be dusty when you come back.
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he likes to fly as close to fire as he can get. last time he almost fell into the fireplace
( a little like brushing her wings up against the edges of this conversation, if she's honest. icarus longed for melted wings; alina flinches from the risk of venturing into dangerous territory. )
oh. good
i don't think we'll have to worry about dust ever again, after all this
caroline volunteered to clean for me. i think she likes doing it
or she's gone a bit mad. either feels possible at this point
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Do we have anyone working who can sew?
[Tiptoeing, tiptoeing like their last conversations hadn't happened, like the night in Alia's room was a bad dream, a sour memory, too much wine with dinner, too many hours spent gazing at the wintry sky. Back to normal, that's what Alina wants, Paul had said. Alia wants what Alina wants.]
Did she? She's very kind that way.
She told me all about what happened in my books, you know.
Is she going to come work for [us] you?
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me
( as if she's in any condition. her stomach churns freshly anew to reflect on caroline at all — her judgment hadn't felt so helpful to alina, in the throes of resculpt's delirium. it sticks like a burr in the back of her brain, hardly caroline's fault in their mutual states, but the thorn lodges deep all the same. )
that sounds like caroline. she likes to be helpful
if she wants to, i'm not going to say no. paul will lose his mind without the help if kettlewing keeps spilling himself
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I can help.
I can learn.
I can be better at it. [It comes out too quick, and Alia knows it, tries to grab for the shreds of her composure, tries to keep from prostrating herself like a penitent, begging for forgiveness.]
I think the boys might unionize to overthrow me if I don't learn to do SOMETHING useful.
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at cleaning????? you don't like to clean
nick and hyunsu are too nice to throw you out
august wouldn't bother with it
and gale is ...... well, gale is gale
it's fine. i think caroline just wants to keep busy, anyway
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I could learn.
I could learn anything.
[Anything you wanted. Anything you needed.]
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you sweep it
( still, alia hadn't hesitated to be honest with her, even when reading it back felt like being vivisected. it makes her less gentle with wielding the truth, like waving around a blunt instrument, none of her usual tiptoeing: )
i want caroline to take care of it
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[Oh. A pause, then, during which Alia huffs and props her chin in her hand, scrunching her nose at Kettlewing. He has little to contribute, so.]
Then she shall.
I'll find something else to do.
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he's in charge while i'm away
( offered as the olive branch it is, not quite a gap bridged, but a plank added to an incomplete bridge. )
or hyunsu, i suppose
he's too kind to ask for help himself
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Is it because Kettlewing likes him?
[She'll take the branch, shield herself and shade herself, follow the thread offered out of the mire of the last few months.]
Hyunsu, I like. He's thoughtful.
Or bored. I can't tell, exactly.
Tall, too. He reaches all the top shelves for me.
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and i like him the most. don't tell gale
( who would be crushed, surely. )
just shy, i think. he's quiet and minds his own, which i like
it doesn't hurt that he does most of the heavy lifting
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And I won't tell Paul that he and Kettlewing have the same taste in men.
But I'll ask Nick and Hyunsu what they need help with, then.
As long as there isn't any heavy lifting involved, of course.
I'll keep busy.
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( the authority is armand's dick. )
if you insist on it, i won't stop you
good luck
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[Have a suspicious look, Kettlewing. Have you thirsted over Armand, lately, little teabird?
Then, after a pause:] Afterwards, can I come visit? If you're feeling well enough.
Tim's promised me sweets in exchange for teaching him to fight. I want to make sure my list is right.
cw: emeto mention
( out from her fingers, before she can pretend the joke doesn't grate — doesn't graze up against the cuts and scrapes that had opened under resculpt's fingertips, prying its hands into her insecurities, her faults — when the joke hinges on minimalizing her. how funny it must be for stupid little alina starkov to think anything has ever been solely and strictly about her. )
i'm not feeling well enough for visitors
maybe after i stop spewing my breakfast every time i try
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It's not shocking. You're probably right. Paul is caring and thoughtful that way.
He thinks of your comfort above all.
[The implication: Alia does not. Alia is careless and brute force and thoughtless hands. Alia grew in the same womb, but fed on conniving and cunning and backhanded words instead of love and kindness and gentleness.]
As you wish it.
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( a pointed correction: that includes alia as much, if not more, than alina herself. )
okay.
paul can let you know when i'm accepting visitors.
and if it's all the same to you, i'd rather not hear about tim unless you do want me to get nauseous.
( she won't begrudge alia teaching a defenseless man to sharpen himself, won't wish ill upon him, after all that he'd equally suffered — but for the role he played in paul's death, for the secret he'd kept at the risk of her own life, she has no love or mercy or trust left to spare. )
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All things are the same to me.
I will make a nuisance of myself to Paul, and to Gale and to Nick and to Hyunsu, until you have recovered.
Rest well, Alina.
[Then, after a beat:] ♥
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or at least the kind of trouble that doesn't make for a fun story afterward
goodnight alia