Tomomi Komatta

Who–

Why take the chance?

Understandable.

"A good spy with enough free time to peek in on teenagers? I'll check the job boards for you when I return to town." She gets to her feet and brushes off her pants. Why people insisted on sitting in dirt, she'll never understand...

You've given me quite a lot to think about. It's appreciated." The corner of her mouth quirks in a small smile at a humorous thought. "Shall I come gossip about the outcome after? I think properly, it's meant to be done over wine."

"They know, believe me - one more than the other."

She scoffs, but there's no real derision behind it. "Not much difference between putting the choice on them and just leaving, though, is there? Whoever stays is chosen by default. That hardly seems fair to them...

you are a better knife than you are a person.

Instead of ire, she meets him with a simple, "I'm here."

"-shit. I have something to tend to."

Her voice echoes from the waterfront at the same moment he calls to her. For just a moment she hesitates, feeling an uncomfortably familiar wave of irritation begin to crest–

But the peace of the moment grounds her, somewhat.

"How... how do you ask patience, knowing you'll hurt them as you work towards that?"

She's not entirely absorbed in her own woes. She asks, and she's almost sure he'd have an answer born of experience; whether he'd offer it was another matter.

But to him, she listens well, committing every word to memory, thinking more clearly on the comments she'd initially brushed off as useless.

He hadn't answered what she'd been after - how to make up her mind - but... that was never really the point, was it?

Slowly, she finds her voice again.

There.

That feeling of someone drawing every jumbled idea from your disordered mind, hammering them into a coherent point, and just... stabbing the thing home. He's right, of course; it's not far off from what she's been told already, but she hadn't heard it when decent folk had told her.

until they made [their] advances.

As a matter of fact, I could just... leave." She says it, but even then, she knows it's not her answer. "...Save everyone the headache."

It... doesn't feel good. It's not that relief of understanding that she expected, even having known each point he notes of her character as fact. It's not an [answer.]

And it's probably why she bristles at the one point she disagrees with.

"I'm not 'desperate.' I didn't even care about any of this

you forgot how close hate is to love.

He might be irritated, but it's a little freeing to tell this to someone who already seems to have a low opinion of her. She doesn't particularly care about earning his derision.

"They have been kinder than most bother to be." Kinder than she's given them reason to be. "I want the right choice."

"Is it not worth the consideration? Both seem to share the feeling. No matter what I do, I hurt at least one.

...That's [if] I manage to navigate the rest of a relationship without doing something asinine, which seems increasingly unlikely."

Chavir seemed to think I should... date both, or something, but that seems ill-advised. And I think I'm going mad. I can't [work] like this."

It still feels like she's not explaining this properly, but at least it sounds somewhat less pedantic.

"Let's consider this a trial and you can continue when we both need a little... I don't know, catharsis?"

Of course, this is the reaction she's expected, and the precise reason she's here. She needs someone ruthless as they are insightful.

"To wit: I have feelings for two people.

I should buy a gun

"Well... there's something very wrong with me, and I need you to tell me what it is and what to do about it before I go fucking mad."

That seemed rather concise and clear. She looks satisfied.

A quiet sigh, a rare release of the tension in her spine, even if it must be by force.

"Hello. I forget my manners.

You'd be correct, and I imagine you'd even find the task entertaining. If you have a moment, I'd consider this a favor owed. I'm not in the habit of begging help, either."

"...Forget I said anything, he's a dead-"

No, that's not fair when she's been out here fretting between two people. When she starts to correct herself, she hears the telltale sound of teleportation near the cabin.

"-Shit. I have something to tend to."

"...I suppose he's rather meticulous, yes. What of it?"

There are clergy members who could offer perspective, but with no ill will towards Wren, the thought of it sounds insufferable.

She doubts he appreciates small talk much more than she does. To the point:

"I... need help, and you may be the most efficient option." And shockingly, the most tolerable one.

They would have to see how long that fair mood could last.

Approaching and hovering over him with a weapon within reach feels like a poor follow-up to their last encounter. Instead, she takes equal footing by sitting almost precisely eleven feet away, facing him.

And... she's off to seek out someone unlikely to welcome her. Not the wisest choice, given their interaction the day prior, but necessary; she will not delay this if she can help it.

@feyranlavellan.bsky.social

She raises a brow but offers no comment, only a delayed, brief squeeze of her own.

"I'll have to find something worth cooking. I can nearly manage a meal without burning anything now.

Until then, Chavir."

With a small wave, she departs.

there are only so many seats open in my life, and i don't want to let my heart be swayed by anyone who's not sitting in one of them. of course, there are also people like you who bring their own seat and sit down.