How hair that short can get so fucked up is impossible to say, and the bags under his eyes are deep and heavy. He answers the door with the wobble of someone who just woke up, and is dressed accordingly. But even so, he manages to pick up his spirits enough to seem presentable.
"Hey, sorry for my stupid face. I overslept. C'mon in. What's for breakfast?"
God. It's like watching a stage actor be spat out through a wood chipper, then attempt to piece himself back together to keep the play going. Carolina ins't buying it for a second. It's painful to watch. More painful that he really, truly believes it's necessary.
"Parfait. Unpasteurized, so you get a disease."
She walks inside, pulls the cloth off and hand him the bowl.
"Thought it might be nice if you didn't have to cook. Can we sit?"
"Oh, cool, free disease," North jokes taking the bowl as he lets her in. "Yeah, no, I really appreciate it. Dining room's through here."
North leads her back into the rear of the ground floor. The entry room is more hallway than not, so he leads her past the kitchen archway and into a space with a small, round table, nabbing a spoon from the china cabinet drawer before plopping down.
Carding a hand through his hair, North sighs, shaking his head.
"That fucking---- fairy bullshit on the mountainside, or whatever it was. We had to do a- like a puzzle, thing, or whatever. It made us tell the truth. Some ugly stuff came out. Old feelings, secrets. I found out that... that South killed me. Not directly, but she let the Meta attack me so that he'd take Theta, because she didn't want Theta around anymore. She thought she could swoop in after, save the day, but surprise, surprise--- it killed me first, and then took Theta and my shield when I was dead. She was too late."
He freezes, feeling guilt knot in his gut. "But it wasn't--- she didn't do it on purpose, exactly, she didn't mean for--- I-I don't want you to turn her out. I hadn't been--- I should've talked to her more, before it all went wrong. I just need some time, you know? To process. She could really use a friend."
Aha. So that was the plan. Let Maine come in, do the dirty work for her, take Theta. She gets what she wants, no blood on her hands. No guilt. (Unlikely.) And what the hell did she think she was going to do against Maine? Kick him in the groin and skip off with her probably-injured brother, slowing them to a crawl? Kill him herself? Jesus Christ, South.
Carolina purses her lips and sits with that for a minute. She doesn't look happy. However;
"You don't need to convince me, North. I'm not going to kick her out. I'm not here to make excuses for her, either. What she did to you and Theta was selfish and stupid. Whatever reason she has for what went wrong, it happened. You don't want her to feel worse, and she relies on you. That's... a lot of pressure to be under when you're in a situation where you need to step away. That's why I wanted to talk."
Is he, though? Every creak of settling wood has him calling out into an empty house for a sister that isn't there. Every cup of coffee drank across from an empty chair has him one step closer to caving. He could just call her, tell her it was a mistake, that he wants her home. It'd be easy. He could do it right now---- he worries his sending stone with a thumb where it sits heavily in his pocket. He could do it right now.
But he pulls his hand out of his pocket and sighs. "I just need time to process everything without running the risk of hurting her. And the effort it took to try and do that with her here was making me angrier than I wanted to be. That's all."
Fuck's sake. He is just like South; South's just like him. Difficult and stubborn and resisting help. At opposite ends of an emotionally tricky line. Even now, his worries orbit the posed risk of hurting her— never mind how she hurt him by getting him killed and pillaging what was essentially his son. He's bothered by that. He's got to be, and yet— no words. Not one uttered grievance. She isn't buying it, and he's doing a piss-poor job at playing salesman.
"North. You're isolating yourself. You carry all this weight and without asking anyone for help. You know what that does to a person? Crushes them. That's why you're angry. That's why you lash out when you don't want to. You're exhausted. You can't expect to work through your feelings when nothing changes."
A beat. She laces her fingers into a knobby, weathered ball. Pulls them apart. "I don't want it to seem like I'm forcing you to talk when you don't want to. If it's too fresh, that's fine. But someone has to push you, and if this conversation is any evidence, it isn't going to be yourself."
Yeah, she's right. North is alone. He isn't isolating himself on purpose, he just doesn't have anywhere to go. It's a little ironic, really--- South, despite her best efforts to be unpleasant, has slotted right in. She's gotten friendly with Carolina, and has a confidante in her. She's talking to a girl who seems to like her back. She signed up for some sort of Secret Santa thing next week, according to that bulletin board. She's got people.
North, on the other hand, has tried to be friendly, tried to integrate, and has come up short.
Maybe it's because South is so raw, so real, so herself. Whereas North has always been a charming fake.
"Don't take this the wrong way, Carolina, but--- as much as it'd be nice to vent, I don't think it should be to you. You're great, and I trust you, I mean that. I know you're just looking after the team, and that you'll do your best to stay neutral. But I don't think I should let off a bunch of steam about South to the person whose house she's staying in. It's not fair. I need to find my own outlet."
She's quiet for a minute, lips drawn into a tight line. Hesitant to walk away from a gash so fresh and so livid and so close in proximity to her. She knows it isn't her responsibility to keep a team together that doesn't exist anymore— knows this is a family issue, not a Freelancer one— and yet. She frustrates imperceptibly. Writhes inwardly at her inability to do anything at all except trust that someone else will come to his aid. Like hopping into an extraction plane and leaving him behind. Don't worry, I'll catch the next one.
"Yeah. Alright," she says slowly, begrudgingly. "I'll drop it. And I hope you find that outlet. Really."
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no subject
How hair that short can get so fucked up is impossible to say, and the bags under his eyes are deep and heavy. He answers the door with the wobble of someone who just woke up, and is dressed accordingly. But even so, he manages to pick up his spirits enough to seem presentable.
"Hey, sorry for my stupid face. I overslept. C'mon in. What's for breakfast?"
no subject
God. It's like watching a stage actor be spat out through a wood chipper, then attempt to piece himself back together to keep the play going. Carolina ins't buying it for a second. It's painful to watch. More painful that he really, truly believes it's necessary.
"Parfait. Unpasteurized, so you get a disease."
She walks inside, pulls the cloth off and hand him the bowl.
"Thought it might be nice if you didn't have to cook. Can we sit?"
no subject
North leads her back into the rear of the ground floor. The entry room is more hallway than not, so he leads her past the kitchen archway and into a space with a small, round table, nabbing a spoon from the china cabinet drawer before plopping down.
"How goes it?"
no subject
She sits down across from him and shrugs off the question. Nope, not going to happen. "I was going to ask you the same thing."
no subject
"I mean-- bad. Just kind of broadly bad. But I imagine South didn't tell you anything."
no subject
"No, she didn't. Not really. I know you probably don't want to talk about it, but I think you should."
no subject
"That fucking---- fairy bullshit on the mountainside, or whatever it was. We had to do a- like a puzzle, thing, or whatever. It made us tell the truth. Some ugly stuff came out. Old feelings, secrets. I found out that... that South killed me. Not directly, but she let the Meta attack me so that he'd take Theta, because she didn't want Theta around anymore. She thought she could swoop in after, save the day, but surprise, surprise--- it killed me first, and then took Theta and my shield when I was dead. She was too late."
He freezes, feeling guilt knot in his gut. "But it wasn't--- she didn't do it on purpose, exactly, she didn't mean for--- I-I don't want you to turn her out. I hadn't been--- I should've talked to her more, before it all went wrong. I just need some time, you know? To process. She could really use a friend."
no subject
Aha. So that was the plan. Let Maine come in, do the dirty work for her, take Theta. She gets what she wants, no blood on her hands. No guilt. (Unlikely.) And what the hell did she think she was going to do against Maine? Kick him in the groin and skip off with her probably-injured brother, slowing them to a crawl? Kill him herself? Jesus Christ, South.
Carolina purses her lips and sits with that for a minute. She doesn't look happy. However;
"You don't need to convince me, North. I'm not going to kick her out. I'm not here to make excuses for her, either. What she did to you and Theta was selfish and stupid. Whatever reason she has for what went wrong, it happened. You don't want her to feel worse, and she relies on you. That's... a lot of pressure to be under when you're in a situation where you need to step away. That's why I wanted to talk."
no subject
Is he, though? Every creak of settling wood has him calling out into an empty house for a sister that isn't there. Every cup of coffee drank across from an empty chair has him one step closer to caving. He could just call her, tell her it was a mistake, that he wants her home. It'd be easy. He could do it right now---- he worries his sending stone with a thumb where it sits heavily in his pocket. He could do it right now.
But he pulls his hand out of his pocket and sighs. "I just need time to process everything without running the risk of hurting her. And the effort it took to try and do that with her here was making me angrier than I wanted to be. That's all."
no subject
Fuck's sake. He is just like South; South's just like him. Difficult and stubborn and resisting help. At opposite ends of an emotionally tricky line. Even now, his worries orbit the posed risk of hurting her— never mind how she hurt him by getting him killed and pillaging what was essentially his son. He's bothered by that. He's got to be, and yet— no words. Not one uttered grievance. She isn't buying it, and he's doing a piss-poor job at playing salesman.
"North. You're isolating yourself. You carry all this weight and without asking anyone for help. You know what that does to a person? Crushes them. That's why you're angry. That's why you lash out when you don't want to. You're exhausted. You can't expect to work through your feelings when nothing changes."
A beat. She laces her fingers into a knobby, weathered ball. Pulls them apart. "I don't want it to seem like I'm forcing you to talk when you don't want to. If it's too fresh, that's fine. But someone has to push you, and if this conversation is any evidence, it isn't going to be yourself."
no subject
North, on the other hand, has tried to be friendly, tried to integrate, and has come up short.
Maybe it's because South is so raw, so real, so herself. Whereas North has always been a charming fake.
"Don't take this the wrong way, Carolina, but--- as much as it'd be nice to vent, I don't think it should be to you. You're great, and I trust you, I mean that. I know you're just looking after the team, and that you'll do your best to stay neutral. But I don't think I should let off a bunch of steam about South to the person whose house she's staying in. It's not fair. I need to find my own outlet."
no subject
She's quiet for a minute, lips drawn into a tight line. Hesitant to walk away from a gash so fresh and so livid and so close in proximity to her. She knows it isn't her responsibility to keep a team together that doesn't exist anymore— knows this is a family issue, not a Freelancer one— and yet. She frustrates imperceptibly. Writhes inwardly at her inability to do anything at all except trust that someone else will come to his aid. Like hopping into an extraction plane and leaving him behind. Don't worry, I'll catch the next one.
"Yeah. Alright," she says slowly, begrudgingly. "I'll drop it. And I hope you find that outlet. Really."