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@e-n-leonard

Lolll that was so funnn!!

This isn’t like Isaias or Rosemary at all. They really mean their philosophical nonsense. I bet Frey wouldn’t even if he swore before the Benevola Wolf.

Completely true XD

Frey

Mara seems to have had enough of our little game. What a pity, I’m just starting to enjoy myself.

“You don’t have to do that,” she says, arms crossed, brows drawn in a deep frown.

Inwardly laughing, I widen my eyes in mock innocence.

“Do what? What could I have done that could possibly displease you, my lady?” I ask, carefully toeing the line between genuine and mocking. Okay, perhaps a little closer to mocking.

“Treat a stranger like a gullible idiot just because she doesn’t know what’s going on.” She shakes her braids out of her face, and they cascade down her back. Her expression isn’t petulant, as it would be if she were playing along. That’s what Ophelia would have looked like, most likely. Mara isn’t like that.

“What’s your problem, hmm? Why are you saying stuff you don’t believe?”

I grin. I always say things I don’t believe. The things I do believe are few and far between, and far from certain. The things I don’t believe are plentiful and vary. Some of them I’ve tried, like trying on a coat for size. Things like ‘you’ll have more friends once you’re out of high-school’. They never fit.

I decide to circle back to my tried and true methods, like repeating what I’ve already said.

“I just told you, I have no reason to lie to you.”

I can’t keep the grin off my face, the thrill of the banter rushing through me like adrenaline. It peaks as the girl scowls, her glare as hard as stone.

I need to keep her from being so irritated she abandons me.

“I would never lie to you,” I say, my tone still half teasing, half hurt, as though her actions have wounded me deeply.

(Author’s note: Sometimes I can’t stand Frey, this is one of those times)

“You’re teasing, and that’s not much better,” she counters.

I am, but it’s what I do best. Instead of answering, I choose to seize upon her statement and dissect it in the most philosophical way I can manage.

“Is it really?” I lean back in my wheelchair, steepling my fingers as though thinking deeply. “Lying is bad when it hurts people. Teasing doesn’t, right? Is one truly equal to the other?”

Mara takes a deep breath, doing everything to keep her temper under control. It delights me to see it.

“I’m done with this foolishness.”

There it is. I’ve gone just a little too far, and she’s ready to cast me off. Drat, I’ll have to manage better next time. I cover the sinking feeling spreading through me like one of the aches. I’m well used to hiding things like that.

“Do you actually know anything about this place or not?” Mara asks.

“If I did, I would have told you,” I say, barely troubling to keep up the veneer of teasing.

I might have. Perhaps. Unless it was more advantageous or funnier not to tell her.

“If you, like me, know nothing, then maybe we could help each other find some answers,” Mara suggests.

Perhaps she isn’t planning to abandon me altogether. I cast a glance up at her, trying to read her expression.

“You think I could help you, my lady?” I ask, irony dripping off my words.

My back is starting to ache. I should get up soon, if I stay in my wheelchair too long, it’ll start hurting anyway. Like everything else, it’s a careful balance.

However, I only have one chance to get up for the first time in front of someone new. I have to make the most of it. Mara would have a spectacular reaction. She’d been staring at my wheelchair before, and she seems not to take jokes that well. It’ll be perfect.

I don’t have the desire or energy to stretch it out as much as I could, so I keep it to the abbreviated version.

I slip the locks on the wheels into place, a barely visible motion she doesn’t notice.

I reach back for my cane. If I try to get up and my legs start aching like they usually do, I’d look ridiculous if I had to sit right back down again.

“But, if you like, we can go ask someone,” I say. I just need to say something while I do it, for better comedic timing. I rise as I speak, as though I didn’t quite think about it.

A sharp pain shoots through my left knee, all the way down to my foot. I grit my teeth and wait for it to pass. It doesn’t. Electricity seems to trickle down from my spine, the burning tingle impossible to completely ignore. I casually glance across the room, so Mara can’t see the edges of pain in my expression. I’m used to hiding it, but sometimes it’s just a lot.

I turn back and notice her staring at me in bewilderment and shock. Perfect.

I glance down, then raise my eyebrows as though wildly shocked.

“Oh look, a miracle. I’ve been cured,” I say, in a perfectly deadpan voice.

I’ve done this act more often than I can count. It was always so awkward the first time, since people usually assume I can’t walk. When they find out I do, it gets uncomfortable for everyone involved. This is a quick way to diffuse the tension.