closed;

[trifurcate]

Characters: Bryn Zethir, Wanda Lehnsherr, Roy Harper, Lord Henry Wotton, Bruce Banner]
Date: June 21st and 24th
Location: Fire Sector and Water Sector
Situation: Bryn and Wanda both dealing with weakening/out of control powers, or their complete loss.
Warnings/Rating: Warnings will be marked if a thread warrants one.


[ooc: See threadstarters within.]

Comments

[epigrammatical]

"My poor dear girl," he says softly. "You are right to grieve, though I hope with all my heart that your bond should be restored in time. There is strangeness all over, as you are no doubt aware—as if a curse of some kind has befallen the gifted and the strange here. Perhaps all shall be restored in time."

[trifurcate]

"Perhaps," she repeats, sounding only somewhat hopeful. It's hard to know what else to say to this. For as much as Henry's words have always charmed and enthralled her, the uncertainty of of his speculation does only so much to actually comfort her. Feeling despair the likes of which she's never experienced before, she leans against him, head on his shoulder, and stares down at her hands. Her fingers toy with the edges of the handkerchief, trying to think of something more to say and finding herself at a loss.

[epigrammatical]

He puts his arm around her and sighs softly. "If I could tell you with absolute assurance that all would be well, I would," he says. "Such a painful loss is all the worse for its sheer want of meaning and lack of grace. There are some tragedies that are of such sublimity that one can only observe them with wonder, as if one were an actor in a play. But more often they merely shock us with their cruelty and vulgarity."

[trifurcate]

Cruel and vulgar, yes, these things apply. The lack of her gift affects her on such a spiritual level that this description is entirely accurate. Offering the briefest nod of understanding, she breathes slowly in an attempt to calm down. "I'm not certain I can distance myself so much as to observe this with wonder, not at the center of it."

[epigrammatical]

"You are the tragic heroine in this drama, I am afraid," Henry says gently. "Indeed, I would be surprised if you were able to distance yourself, for your gift is a part of your very soul. But when your gift is restored—and I say when, for I should prefer that you live in hope—perhaps you will find something more than pain in this."

[trifurcate]

"Perhaps then, for I certainly see nothing of value in it now," she replies miserably. There seems to be nothing to this but pain and uncertainty. What comfort Henry provides is something of a salve, but it does nothing to heal the wound itself. "Have you found it that way yourself?"

[epigrammatical]

"I have, over time, learnt to look for that which is beautiful in any painful event," he says. "It is not easy, and often one is so shocked in the moment that it can only be found in retrospect. But we are the authors of our own lives, my dear, and sometimes it is practically an obligation to edit the narrative to live with it. So long as the colour of memory is true, one minor vulgar detail or another makes little difference."

[trifurcate]

"And if I find I cannot do it that way? Even after I've regained my powers?" she asks, pessimism coloring her tone in ways he has unlikely heard from her before. Oh, she's taken to speaking about her powers as if they are something she will regain, but that is all he's been able to influence her to do so far. "What would you suggest if I cannot find the good in this?"

[epigrammatical]

"Were I you, even if I still felt pain over this loss even with the gift regained? I should simply immerse myself in the joy of its return, and forget the pain as swiftly as possible." He caresses her neck, a comforting gesture. "I have known far too many people—women in particular, I confess—who would rather dwell on an agony long gone than the pleasure of the present moment. It is an unfortunate way to live."

[trifurcate]

"It doesn't sound much like living, and thankfully nothing I think I would do," she replies quietly, apparently soothed by his words, or the comforting touch. Sighing, she settles her hands in her lap. "I'm sorry for barging in on you about this, by the way. I just...there didn't seem anyone as fitting to turn to."

[epigrammatical]

"Dearest Bryn, please don't apologise," he says, soothingly. "One should never apologise for anything except trivialities, and certainly not for seeking the comfort of a friend. Indeed, I am honoured that you would wish to turn to me."

[trifurcate]

That makes her smile somewhat, though she still leaves her head on his shoulder.

"Well then I am glad you were here to come to. After losing Grantaire I am not sure I could handle losing another close friend."

[epigrammatical]

"So long as I have a choice in the matter, you will always find me here," he replies. Then with a soft sigh: "I am sorry he has gone, of course. It is as if he was here to burn briefly, brightly, and rudely, but fated not to stay."