oh like gold, let it lead me astray.

[canicide]

[ It's mid-morning, the sun beating down strongly on the white stone of the palace. With the ceremony scheduled for afternoon, preparations are already well underway. In a chamber adjacent to the audience room, Heine is still getting dressed. His underthings are on, shirt and breeches as well, but a glance at all the other layers laid out make him want to break the wall down and leave.

He never should have agreed to this. Honestly, it was a mistake, and Heine can only stare longingly at his sword, which is placed on a side table, sheathed. He'd really rather go out into the training yard and beat something (or someone) up. Instead, he's here. Heine sighs loudly and slouches, despite the tailor poking him in the back and telling him to stand up straight as the door of the room swings open. A guard announces, ] The queen.

Comments

[erythristic]

...And that's when you...

[had that happen. killed them all. finishing the sentence seems impossible through the barrier in her throat.]

[canicide]

Yeah. [ Heine averts his gaze to focus on the side of his plate rather than her. ] So I don't like being around kids.

[ ... ] Anyway, do you have any fucked up stories to tell or should I think of something else?

[erythristic]

Some, but they're a different sort than yours. I don't even know if you'd find them interesting.

[it's not trying to avoid the question, it's honesty - she doesn't have anything as big as that on her record, but some things....]

[canicide]

Sure. [ Heine shrugs slightly, thumbing at the edge of the plate. ] I won't know unless you tell me.

[erythristic]

[for half a second she doesn't speak, looking down at the glass of wine near her, how the deep red shines in the light, and then she takes a breath.]

When I first saw a man die, I was six. I don't know what he did, or why it happened. But I remember my father telling me that I had to bear witness, and so I did as his throat was cut, listening to him drown in his own blood. I also remember Father telling me he was proud that I wasn't scared, that I stood there without crying or trying to turn away. Maybe it was to try to start me into building a tolerance for the horrors that would inevitably show their faces once I took on my role, the surprise coming from that I was born with it.

When I first saw one die by my own hand, I was eleven. I was trying to scare them off, fight back because I knew they were trying to kidnap me, and I remembered that if you stabbed someone in certain places, it would hurt. Fortune of a sort guided my hand towards burying the knife in their heart, and their hold went loose, I dropped and so did they. It was covered up, naturally, the body left to rot somewhere very far away, I left to soak away any trace of blood on my hands in hot water. And...I wasn't nervous, or unsettled, or shaking beyond the intensity of what just occurred. Father called me brave, but I think I...displaced him somewhat in how little I was affected beyond the curiosity. He joked that I would have made a fine son, but even if I was a boy, I think he would have drawn back like he did.

[now she takes a break, lifting the wineglass to her lips and sipping, keeping her eyes not really focused on anything in the room.]

[canicide]

[ Hearing someone talk about their first experiences with death should be intimate—and in some ways, it is. He can imagine the scene. He can't quite imagine a smaller, younger Grell. ]

I don't know if that's interesting. [ That's kind of an attempt at making a joke, there. ] ...but thanks, for telling me.

Does it bother you that he reacted like that?

[erythristic]

I don't know. I just...accept it as something he did. Maybe it's the normal reaction to such.

[now she does look up at him again, almost seeming to question does it bother you, Heine? does her tale bother you in any regard?]

[canicide]

[ Maybe it was a normal reaction, but Heine doesn't know anything about being normal. ]

So do you carry a knife on you now?

[erythristic]

When I sleep, it goes near my pillow.

[of course she had one. she'd insisted on getting something easily concealed after the matter - for her own protection. it had just shown up one day, and she rarely forgot to take it with her.]

[canicide]

That's good enough.

[ Good to learn things from experience, at least. ]

Anyway, I don't think it's weird that you did that. Or that you felt that way after.

[erythristic]

You...don't? Why?

[it's clear the answer confuses her, as ready as she had been to accept his "that's odd" statement on the whole matter.]

[canicide]

[ Heine just shrugs. ]

It's not like you like killing people, right? [ uh. ] Not for no reason, anyway.

[erythristic]

There's a little...vague sort of interest in it, but not beyond registering something like if a man swallows this much of this poison, he will die, or that there are places where it is easier to cut and let the blood leave than others. Not anything you could call liking it - I only like it when those that deserve it die.

[does that make sense? she wonders.]

[canicide]

You like it when you're doing the right thing.

[ That's how Heine thinks of it. There are people who deserve to die (he certainly does; maybe Grell will help him—maybe she'll like it). ]

So maybe you're just kind of morbid. It's okay. [ He shrugs. ] Just weird.

[erythristic]

...I'm glad it's not something you find unacceptable, then.

[see, things like this prove to her that she could have never married one of the others. she couldn't have discussed this with them, would have had to pull it back and keep it her secret alone. she couldn't have talked with them like they were her friend.]

[canicide]

[ Heine just grunts in reply to that and goes back to his dinner. That's about as much reassuring as he can do in one evening. ]