who could turn on the edge of a knife. {marra!}

[glamourie]

"That's because you're a bit dim."
"You've made your point, Kaliran. Did you get the flowers or not?"
"Oh, I did, but it will cost you."
"The next time your brother slugs you --"
"Oh, stop bringing that up!"
"I could let Beggar fly Chipper."
"You've made your point. They're over there, wrapped in the wet rag on the stems. Honestly!"
"You're sure this will work?"
"She's a girl! Of course it will work!"
"She's not exactly a normal girl...."

Rawign stared at the brightly coloured flowers he'd allowed Kaliran to talk him into bringing. After the incident at the river, Rawign decided to try and apologize to Marra. He really had no idea what he did to upset her so much, though it was clear he did just that from how much she'd fallen and hurt herself. While he was convinced he hadn't done anything that bad, he did not want enemies at Selenitas, not with him being so new to the Weyr. The Harper did not strike him as the type to apologize first (which he blamed on the fact that he was sure she was thirteen and thus too young to understand the virtues of such things), so he would offer her peace. He hadn't known how to apologize -- just.. go find her apartment in the residential area and blurt out he was sorry? That seemed stupid. So, instead, he'd asked Kaliran and received a curt response that he should bring the girl flowers. "That's what men do when they've been dim," Kaliran had explained, and Rawign stared at him, wide-eyed and stunned. But he agreed none the less. He'd take the flowers and if she liked them, maybe she'd forgive him. If she refused, maybe they would make her sneeze. Satisfactory revenge as far as he was concerned. Kaliran had to go get the flowers, though, because Rawign was busy. In between the infirmary, lessons and chores, he hadn't had time. Kaliran did. Somehow, that boy always had time.

They were nice though. The colours were vibrant and full of life, and Kaliran had wrapped what looked like cloth bandages (WASTE!!) around the bottom, damp, to avoid them wilting any time soon. Thick with leaves, brightly coloured and open blossoms, they were on the pretty side. They looked entirely too much like the kind of gift someone would give to a crush, though, and he didn't like that one little bit. But beggars couldn't be choosers, unless they were Beggar, in which case they could. The blue firelizard, however, was gone off, presumably to beg Keliris for food. Which left Rawign sneaking across the grounds with the flowers hidden by his large bag throughout the entire way, through the Weyr and off to the residences. He was careful so that no one but him saw the flowers. He didn't want accusations of having a crush on Marra. That would be dreadful considering the girl struck him as about as pleasant as an angry wherry.

As he reached her apartment, he fidgeted twice. It was only about a sevenday since they'd met, and he hoped she had satisfactory time to calm down. Otherwise he'd be in for it - it was the middle of the afternoon and if she took to yelling at him or something, everyone in the apartments would hear it... how dreadful. He shook his head. He should have waited until later, but he wanted to make sure to catch Marra in her apartments. He wondered, briefly, if she was still hurt. He could claim they were get-well flowers or something. Some people gave those. Casually, the dark-haired boy lifted one hand and knocked on the door firmly before squirming. He could hear some vague noises from one of the nearby apartments, someone likely crying. How depressing. There was a reason he didn't spend very much time in that area if it could be helped. Some sounds pulled at the heart strings more than others.

[Administrator]

Marra had certainly not forgotten the events that had happened, so she had taken to holding herself up in her apartment in a surly manner, only leaving to eat, and that was sporatic enough. Lazily, she jotted down a treble clef on music she was copying over. Start with a spiral on the staff where one would put a G, swirl it up, bring it back down-

A knock at the door. Marra sighed, looking down at the messy treble clef. Go figure. Unsure of who it was that was coming to visit, she opened the glowbasket slightly more, knowing some people found it strange that Marra worked in only a sliver of light. She walked to the door, then paused. It also disturbed some people that she worked in only a breastband and breeches. Sighing, she seized her jerkin, pulling it on carelessly. It probably wouldn't matter, seeing as the only person who ever visited her was Robika, but there was always the off chance that some pubescent boy was playing tricks. That had actually happened once, and Marra didn't cover herself before opening the door. That kid hadn't left her alone since, she thought irritably. Buttoning it down, she opened the door, prepared for either Robika or that kid who never stopped looking at her chest. If it was the latter, he would be disappointed to see that she had gotten most of herself covered.

But it was neither. Blinking in surprise, she buttoned the rest of her jerkin down hastily. Rawign? "Erm?" was all she could manage to say, turning slightly pink, she blinked as her eyes readjusted to the light. Yes, it was definitely Rawign. Shards. "Erm," she repeated, but managed to continue on this time, "I think you have the wrong door," she told him slowly, looking at him with slight suspicion, but mostly confusion. There was only her, a dragonless, and a couple of drudges who lived in this apartment-tree. Folding her arms, she regarded him carefully, unsure of his motives, but not prepared to be hostile. Her face was softer, more tired, than when she had fallen down those numerous occasions. Perhaps it was because she hadn't been caught falling down, or perhaps it was because she felt the need to preserve her dignity after being caught with her shirt only half-on. Then again, she could be just sleepier.

Had she known Rawign had come to visit her, she probably would have politely asked him in, if only out of etiquette. But she had managed to convince herself that Rawign was here for someone else, presumably the drudge who made it her point to 'test drive' all of the new men in the Weyr. "Erm, Kenelli is only trying to get you in her furs, so I'd turn around while you've got the chance," she told him, thinking this helpful advice. "Believe me, she makes reports on how good new guys are in bed. So unless you want to earn yourself a reputation, I'd get out of here before she spots you," she told him sagely, unaware that it would probably make things extraordinarily awkward since it wasn't Kenelli he had come to visit.

[glamourie]

Blink. Blink. Blush. Rawign's eyes went a little wide as the door was answered and he quite pointedly stared at Marra's face to avoid looking down.. at... all. Despite the fact that she was mostly covered, he hadn't missed the bits that weren't and his mind promptly went off on tangents that were distinctly inappropriate since he was sure Marra was a child. Bad Rawign. Baaaad. And she looked surprised to see him... almost as surprised as he was to actually be there. Actually, every instinct he had told him to turn tail and run but it was a little harder to do that after getting enough of an eyeful to last a lifetime, as far as he was concerned. Besides, she was speaking... but the more she spoke, the more prominent the blushing on his face became, until he vaguely resembled one of the delicious redfruit that Southern was so famous for, seeing as theirs were nearly twice the size of the ones in the north. His chin jutted upward, and once she finished speaking, he moved the bag and held out the flowers to her, determined not to make more of a fool of himself than he already did. Who was Kenelli?

"That's all well and good, but I've the right door, since it's you I came to see. I do appreciate the warning, however." Not that it was likely to come up. Actually, Rawign was fairly sure most people at Selenitas didn't even notice him. A small part of his ego took a blow that he hadn't even been considered by Kenelli, whoever she was, not that he would have likely responded. He was too busy being hostile to develop a reputation as anything but a grump. Still, he was just arrogant enough to be offended. "Though I doubt it will ever come up... The flowers are for you. I - uh... they're - that is.."

How did one go about stating they were sorry? Rawign blinked, twice, and wondered. He'd never tried to apologize before, at least not for anything serious. He was of the opinion that he was always right so he never needed to apologize. But even though he couldn't see where he was wrong, from her behavior he must have truly incensed Marra. At least she didn't throw him down the side of the tree and take to screaming again. He'd expected her to chase him across the grounds shouting insults. He had the distinct feeling she was the type to do exactly that. His eyebrows raised and he glanced down at the brightly coloured flowers. Pretty as they were, he hoped the message didn't come off badly. Without his explanation, he probably sounded like a lovesick teenager. Dim, dim, dim. Kaliran was right; he was extremely dim. Why had he accepted that advice? He could have just as easily come, spluttered an apology, and then fled to hide in the candidate barracks. That would have been much easier on him. And more pleasant.

"I came to tell you I'm s- s- I was - that is - I apologize." Crinkling his nose slightly, Rawign glanced around, before giving Marra an almost pitiful look, "But if you're to make me grovel, I'd ask that I can do so inside as opposed to being publicly made a fool. I already look the part..."

[Administrator]

Marra's eyebrow shot up. So, he was visiting her? Did he come to rub more insults in her face? Blinking, she opened her mouth to speak, but promptly shut it as he took flowers out of the large bag. A stunned look crossed her face. Was he here to confess his undying love to her? Probably that stupid boy who had managed to see her near-topless had told him the size of her upper half. Making a mental note to destroy him, she opened her mouth to say something, then closed it, turning red. Folding her arms over her chest possessively, she gave him a stern look, as if warning him to keep his eyes off.

However, she was caught off-guard once again. Both eyebrows went up this time. "Apologize?" she repeated, not understanding. "For what? Did you break something of mine?" All of this was act with pure seriousness. She didn't realize he was apologizing for the other day. Giving him a measuring look, she pushed her door open, beckoning him in. Unable to contain her curiosity, she darted over to her desk, examining her things to see if they were broken. "Was it expensive?" she asked with a frown. "If it was, I think I'll require it that you pay me back. The shirt I can let slide, but I can't keep going on with getting my things ruined with no requital."

She sighed, smoothing her dark hair, a neat bun holding it back, but a few stray hairs licked her temples. "You can come in," she told him calmly, then paused. "I- I mean, not to grovel, I mean, just for the sake of getting you out of the hallway, I don't mean to make you grovel. Well, if you'd like to, then go ahead, but- No, I mean..." Marra's shade had deepened to a red not so different from Rawign's, and she busied herself with shoving a stack of music hides and a gitar off of her chair. "Just sit," she told him, getting frustrated at herself for being so unbelievably awkward.

This probably came from how antisocial she was. She was so unused to being near people that in the few instances she was, everything was flipped into something terrible. Shutting her mouth, she pushed herself up onto the desk to sit, only to hear something crack beneath her. Turning scarlet, she got down slowly. Cursing under her breath, she realized it was her inkwell, now puddling in a black mess on her paper. Shard it! ignoring the black stain in her pants, she desperately tried to save the rest of her paper, but only succeeded with a couple of sheets. Sighing, she just dropped the thin sheets to the floor, looking calm, but truly irritated with herself. Why couldn't she be a normal, people-savvy woman?

[glamourie]

Break? What? Rawign blinked, then waved the flowers about. Was she going to take them or not? Apparently not. He watched her step into the apartment and start looking over her things, and forced himself to keep from scowling in response. He didn't break things! He didn't! She was the clumsy one. He bit his tongue. Saying that would just cause another fight and the point of his visit (and thus avoiding a few hours of a nap that he probably would have appreciated considerably more than Marra's company) was to attain peace, not cause more arguments. So tongue-biting was a necessity, even as he stepped into the apartment. He wound one arm around his bag and set the flowers down lightly on one of the tables as the vibrant blush faded from his cheeks. The darker her face became, the more his blush faded; it was almost as though he gave his blushing to her, like it was contagious. He almost laughed at that idea, though he was sure it would be taken badly. She seemed to take everything he did poorly, though.

"At the risk of being the voice of logic, I can't possibly have damaged anything of yours when this is the first time I've been to your apartment. It's nice, by the way," Rawign replied with a quirked eyebrow. He glanced from the flowers, then back to her and frowned. "You really are going to make this difficult, aren't you? I came to apologize for obviously offending you the last time we saw one another. It was inappropriate of me, and I should have behaved more maturely. I was hoping you would be willing to not hold a gru--- erm." Crack. Spilled ink. That didn't sound good. Why did she always seem to break things around him? "I - ..." At first, instinct told Rawign to offer help. But he'd tried that before, and Marra took it personally. He decided not to, instead looking away from her and down so that his hair covered his face. "I realize it must be a very poor time, but much of my day is busy, as yours must be... I won't take up more of your time. I'm clearly distressing you. I just wanted to come and apologize for having treated you so poorly. It was extremely immature of me and I am sorry. I had hoped the flowers would emphasize the apology... but even if they don't, perhaps they'll make for pretty decoration..."

He did not sit, though. Instead, he backed up, and took a deep breath. Everything inside of him was screaming for him to help her with the papers, and before he could stop himself, he knelt down to pick the stained pieces up from the floor. Whatever she was doing was likely ruined. He frowned. "I can see that I clearly have made you uncomfortable. Please let me help you clean this up -- then I'll go and we can pretend we never met," he said quietly as he shuffled the different pieces into a pile. One wasn't particularly badly stained, just some smudges on the edges. He held it up to her slowly, without looking at it; he was being as careful as he could to avoid offending her further. "This one might be salvageable, the stains don't particularly look that bad..."

It did not occur to Rawign that her discomfort might spread to more than just him. He was egotistical enough that he was convinced Marra simply hated him and thus was awkward in her attempts to avoid fighting. He was trying very hard to be pleasant, too...

[Administrator]

Marra gave him a careful look. "Well, you might have snuck in," she replied simply, but she knew that was unlikely. She hadn't left her apartment much since she had met Rawign. Shrugging, she managed to twist out a half-smile. Though she suspected he was just like other humans and just apologizing for self-satisfaction, it probably took a lot of nerve to get him to walk here with flowers, risking his dignity. She also recognized that she had perhaps lost her temper the other day. Not that she would admit it. "It's fine," she responded curtly, wiping at the ink on her pants. She sighed. Why did she have to be so destructive?

As she was about to wave her hands to let him leave, he was on the floor, picking up her paper. Turning red, she also dropped to the floor, not wanting to appear the lazy one. She rolled her eyes as he told her they could pretend they never met. "In doing so, it would be an attempt to change reality, which is ineffective, considering we both have already met and changing the past is quite impossible," she told him calmly. She frowned at the papers he held up. "I'm afraid that sheet music has to look pristine for the Masterharper. They hate stains in music, so now I'm just going to get yelled at for wasting so much paper." She sighed, smoothing her hair. "I don't see why they make me do it. I don't live at Harper Hall anymore."

Getting up onto her knees, her eyes flickered over to the flowers he set on the table. Marra chuckled. "So, why flowers?" she asked in amusement. "Just because I'm a girl you assume that I like flowers? I could be allergic to them." All right, now she was just antagonizing him. She couldn't help it, though. He didn't need to have brought anything at all. He didn't have to even come, yet he had. Bearing flowers. Somehow, that amused Marra. She never got flowers, yet Rawign brought them for such a simple thing like an apology. Perhaps it was a custom from where he had come from.

((ohgawd. No muse for Marra. ><))

[glamourie]

Trust her to over analyze. Rawign glanced up at Marra and offered her a weak smile as she spoke before shaking his head. When he spoke, though, it was quiet, passive, but undeniably amused, "Harper Marra, were you ever a child?" As a small boy, Rawign and some of the other children from the hold would run around talking and playing. Part of the fun of a game was pretending. He smiled, but it was more hollow than any smile should have been. "Imagination is half of the fun in such situations. You close your eyes and rearrange things in your mind. You can pretend that you're not in pain and the pain lessens, not because it's actually any less painful, but because you focus on it less. Dealing with individuals you clearly dislike works similarly. Close your eyes and imagine that whatever they did to earn your dislike never happened - and suddenly, the agitation you feel with them is lessened in favour of apathy. Sometimes, you have to step away from facts and reason and trust in intuition, feeling, imagination and the less dark sides of your personality, to keep yourself happy. Yes, facts are facts: we've met, neither of us seems fond of the other, and our first meeting was unpleasant. Why then can we both not turn back and pretend in our minds it did not happen, in favour of remaining happier without the knowledge? Logic says we can't, but feelings say we can. Which do you follow, which do you believe? It's entirely perspective, of course."

He probably sounded like an overly idealistic fool, but Rawign wasn't really sure he cared. He was more rambling to avoid going awkwardly silent than anything else, but the truth was, in his opinion, if two people decided to neatly ignore a conflict between them, they could pretend it never happened and be for the better. It wasn't as though their little disagreement was anything major and thus likely to come back and blow up in their face for their turning their backs on it; Rawign dealt with real problems like that. And, in a way, he viewed the fact that he came to apologize as ending their disagreement, solving the feud, fixing the problem in a way. Wasn't that what he was supposed to do, as the grown up? (Yes, he still thought Marra considerably more young than he was.)

As for the sheet music, Rawign frowned, but he didn't comment. He could vaguely relate to different things being required to be pristine, but not to the extent that she did. "Perhaps," he answered softly to her question as he regarded her with another, almost playful smile, "they believe you are talented. You do not have to be at Harper Hall to be talented..." But it helped gain recognition. Nevertheless, he was sure that her responsibilities had a good reason for their purpose.

Rawign stood back up and backed away from Marra as she spoke, his hands coming back up to his hair. Brushing it out of his face, he shook his head. He had a thousand different answers to her question about the flowers, the first ones undeniably rude. He bit his tongue, thought it over, and sighed. "Would you prefer me to claim that I am absolutely enraptured by your presence, that you have haunted my thoughts from the moment I met you, and that I am in love with your every word?" He snorted. "Unfortunately - or perhaps, to our very real fortune - that is not the case. I wanted to apologize, and I wanted it to be clear that I am sincere. I made the mistake of asking one of the few candidates who I am on friendly terms with what he thought would help emphasis this point... and he was of the opinion that flowers would. I recall telling him you are not exactly a normal girl. I wasn't sure they would help... but I didn't see the harm in bringing them. Are you allergic? I can take them away if you are. I would not wish to make you sick."

[Administrator]

Marra frowned, confused by his question. "Of course I was a child," she replied as if it were obvious. "Everyone was a child at some point. Some people stay that way. I, however, chose to grow up.” She sighed. “There’s no point in pretending. Simply pretending pain isn’t there doesn’t make it go away. It could just double it, making it that much worse when you deal with it.” Marra knew firsthand about that sort of thing, she thought bitterly. Rolling her eyes at Rawign’s logic, she cracked her knuckles, oblivious to the fact that it might bother people. At this point, she didn’t care. If he already had a problem with her, then this wouldn’t be too much more off a problem for him, the prick.

“I happen to think logic is more important than emotion,” she told him flatly. “I could live without feeling, but I couldn’t live without intellect. Denial of the truth is the highest form of cowardice—there are reasons people desert fighting in Benden or Fort, but the only reason people ignore facts is because they’re too ashamed to admit that something they did was wrong.” Whereas Rawign was being the idealist, she was tempering it with her dark view of reality and unacknowledged pessimism. All of these thoughts made sense to her. The thought that they might disturb others never crossed her mind. In her eyes, all of this was natural, the pure truth that few dared to admit. Their own selfishness and vanity blinded them from seeing this—right?

Marra snorted. Talent? Everyone at Harper Hall had talent. Or, at least, the common ones did. The people who paid tended to be fresh out of talent, but fortunately, they were few in number. “Believe me, they have enough talented people at Harper Hall. I just think they wanted me to do it because they didn’t want to waste the time of people who could be actively useful to them.” She figured that was how she was viewed by the stupid Masterharper and his fellows. She was just a woman harper, down in an unremarkable Weyr, with nothing better to do than laze about. Too bad that they didn’t know that Marra actually did have work apart from copying over music. Morons.

Yet there was an even bigger moron in front of her. “Well, why’d you ask a candidate?” she demanded, ignoring his mocking words. “All candidates, males in particular, are so obsessed with love and sex and everything in between. Honestly, the number of candidates who lose their chastity between clutches is horrendous. One would think being a candidate would deter that, but apparently keeping all those pubescent children in such a closed space only encourages it.” Rolling her eyes, she sighed. She had inadvertently ranted. “Sorry,” she muttered, calming herself. It would do no good to get angry at him.

Raising a brown eyebrow, she shrugged. “No, I’m not allergic,” she told him indifferently. “They’re nice. I just didn’t see the logic in an attempt at bribing someone into accepting an apology.” That last statement was probably uncalled for, but Marra simply could not let such a jibe pass. Though, she figured, with his apparent dimness, he probably wouldn’t even notice it.

[glamourie]

Rawign blinked at Marra, puzzled. He could point out all the virtues to pretending, but he decided not to do so again. She wasn't going to see his point and it would just sound argumentative. The last thing he wanted was to deal with another fight with her. The girl just could not comprehend his point, which he felt was rather sad. As for him, he couldn't live without feeling. Some were less virtuous than others, like sorrow and depression, but anger gave passion and passion fueled behavior, gave an underlying strength that others underestimated. Without feeling, a human being was no more superior to the rocks and stony surfaces of the walls. Even trees, arguably, had their own feelings. He did not point that out, either. Marra's life philosophy was clearly different from his, and Rawign did not feel like getting into an argument with her about something he could not change. He was sure she was the type to disagree on principle anyway. If she was too far jaded to realize that at the end of every darkness came a light, even if that light was too hard to see, that wasn't his problem. He was pessimistic, true, but he'd learned to accept that he had to hold on to the idea of something good happening in order to avoid going completely mad. So it was that he latched onto the prospect of light beyond all shadows and dark, if only privately.

He remained silent through Marra's rants as well, giving her time to finish her statements before smiling weakly, "Thank you." He did not elaborate to what he meant, but it wasn't an honest expression of gratitude. He'd asked another candidate because he didn't know enough people to ask anyone else, and honestly, when she insulted all the male candidates, she was by proxy insulting him. He was sure she knew that and that it was intentional, but whatever fight he might have had was quite thoroughly beaten out of him. He didn't come there to bicker, so he kept his disapproval buried deep inside in hopes of making a point. Somehow, he suspected arguing with Marra was about as intelligent as arguing with the rocks... but hadn't she, in her own way, made herself no different from them? Feelingless. Oh, but she had plenty of feelings, if her vehemence was anything to judge by.

At least she wasn't allergic. That would have been his luck.

Rawign shook his head and smiled, unable to help himself, as he backed away toward the door. He'd leave the flowers, and she could ... burn them or something. "Perhaps there is no logic," he said quietly, but the truth was that bribing was the last thing on his mind. He smiled and looked down, but in a way, he almost pitied her. Whatever had caused Marra to be so jaded must have been quite the event. He was sure his pity or sympathy would be ill-received, so he gave no voice to it. "Or perhaps it's logic only Kaliran can understand. I'm truly not sure. It seems that in my attempts to make peace, I've only offended you further. I'm very good at that. Again I apologize. I hope your copying of music goes better and your day improves. I'm glad to see that you are well."

Rather than wait for a response to that, Rawign turned and opened the door to leave again. Unfortunately, his movements made him trip on one of the parchments he'd forgotten and he tumbled back to the floor with his elbows smacking hard underneath him. If he wasn't sure of fate before, he would have been in that instant, for he was fairly sure something had to be conspiring against him to allow him to make such a fool of himself in front of her of all people. Glowering (though not at Marra), Rawign sat up properly and picked the parchment up before drawing himself to his feet. He felt shaky, just from surprise, though a hint of ego and agitation at being humiliated lingered as well. He was such a wherrybrain!

[Administrator]

Marra raised an eyebrow. Men were a species she never understood, despite her years of living with them at Harper Hall. They couldn’t even do manners correctly! “What do you mean by thank you?” she pressed at Rawign. “It makes no sense with the conversation at hand. Are you mocking me?” Of all the nerve. Bringing flowers but mocking her? Why not give her poisoned candy? His features only seemed to support her claim. Her shrewd harper-eyes could tell he wasn’t sincere. Was he a moron? Did he think her too slow-witted to catch on?

It seemed as though he were the slow-witted one, she thought in dark amusement. Logic? Well, at least he got this right. This wasn’t logic. This was sheer stupidity. “For once, you’re actually right about something,” she chuckled, a bitter smile curling onto her features. “There is no logic. Such is the way of the male gender.” She shrugged, then sighed. “Look, you’re not offending me now, so—”

However, at that moment, many things happened. He turned to leave, only to slip, and a satisfying feeling of deja-vu crept over her. Only two more falls and they’d be even, she thought with a smirk. Silently, she offered her small, calloused hand to him. She smiled at him knowingly, as if telling him with her eyes that she was doing a good thing, offering help to a fallen person without any words of reproach. He deserved every minute of this, she thought. His wishes did seem to be coming true. Her day just seemed to have improved tenfold.

“You all right?” she asked, her low voice brimming with amusement. “I hope you didn’t skin your knee or anything.” She chuckled again at that. Her own knee was practically good as new, with only a rough patch on it now. Her hand, however, was still slightly swollen and scabbed. However, it hadn’t been noticed yet, so she doubted it ever would be. Thinking of it, she pulled her sleeve over it absently.

She watched Rawign as he got up, and took the parchment from him with her usual abruptness. “Stupid papers, hm?” she asked with a wicked gleam. “I think they were just waiting for the chance to pay you back for the other day. The debt is gone now, though. That’s good. I wouldn’t want to harbor any ill feelings toward you, would I?” she asked sweetly. There. The seed of doubt had hopefully been planted, making him never sure if she had forgiven him or not with that innocent question. She, of course, didn’t hate him in the slightest for his mightier-than-you attitude, but as long as he didn’t know that, Marra could continue to enjoy the times.

[glamourie]

What in the world was wrong with her? Rawign wanted to turn and give her the rougher side of his tongue. She was so.. rude, and unnecessarily so. He'd come to make peace and there she was back-to-back insulting him and for what? What had he done to deserve such treatment? Nothing. He could see logic in how she'd treated him by the riverside, even if he thought she was wrong wrong wrong. But the rudeness she was regarding him with when he was obviously going to extreme lengths to avoid insulting her was outrageous. What in the world was wrong with her that made her behave like an uncivilized and spoiled child? He'd been nothing but pleasant, not rising to her bait if he could avoid it, because he really didn't want to make enemies. He didn't want to make friends either, though -- if he were to be completely truthful, Rawign would have been happier ... alone...

Of course! Of course!

Realization dawning on him, Rawign smiled, unable to help himself. He felt like his little tumble had just given him the answer to his very musings, and he had to resist the urge to burst into hysterical and completely irrational laughter. No doubt Marra would not appreciate such a reaction but oh, she brought it on herself. If she'd let him leave without a sarcastic remark, Rawign would have felt guilty. He would have thought he was wrong and had misjudged her but she just had to keep pushing, had to make it clear he was completely right and he wasn't half as daft as some people might have thought. He was able to read people's body language decently well.

"Does it work often, I wonder? This standoffishness. Chases off those who would try to understand you, doesn't it? And then you can proclaim no one can possibly understand you and you don't have to open up to anyone at all. The nastier you are, the more people will leave and let you be alone, and you can pretend you're so much superior and that the rest of us can't possibly grasp your intelligence one little bit. That doesn't work forever, Marra, and one of these days, you're going to step out of your lovely apartment here, with your finely written music notes, look up and see everyone talking and laughing and know you're not welcome -- and you will have no one to blame but yourself. You can only hide so long before you'll start wondering what you're missing, then you'll feel excluded and miserable. Or maybe you already do. To think, I came here thinking I had simply caught you on a bad day, and that I owed you an apology, since I myself was in a relatively bad mood. I don't feel bad now. At least I know insulting people is the only thing you truly enjoy. Such a shame a pretty face is tainted by such an ugly interior. But perhaps you'll grow out of it; children usually do."

Rawign shook his head and properly climbed to his feet before sniffing, but he didn't leave immediately. He wanted to, but he also wanted to watch his words sink in and see how close to the mark he really was. Rawign knew all about pushing people away to avoid trust and closeness: he did the same thing. He had no way of knowing for sure whether that was what Marra was doing, but it sure seemed that way to him...

[Administrator]

Marra's look of amusement faded instantly as she saw Rawign seem rather pleased with himself. She frowned, and it only deepened as she listened to his words. A flush crept into her cheeks, and she balled her fist, with the skin tight around her injured one. Not that she cared- how dare he make these assumptions about her?! However, he was partly right, and this was perhaps what infuriated her the most. She did pushed people away. But wasn't her reason justifiable!? She hated people, and Rawign was one of the types. Wouldn't he hole himself up, too, if he didn't trust getting close to people? Getting close to someone was letting them see in what ways they were weak, ultimately the ways they could manage your downfall. Marra was not going to risk that.

Angry memories bombarded her head. The constant fights between her parents, the uselessness of her friends during that time, the slip into depression, recovery with the help of only one person... In her eyes, people did more harm than good. Jenicey was the only person she could see who was worth being close with. Anyone else could pretend to be interested, but really, who truly was? No- the human race existed merely for nipping one another at their heels as they fulfilled the human need to reproduce. That, she concluded, was the only reason humans existed. Sure, Thread would fall, but if there was nothing around to endure it, what was its problem? A memory lodged itself in her brain, one never called up because of its harshness, and Marra gripped the table.

Marra was younger, perhaps fourteen Turns. She was singing songs to herself as she took care of a woman's children. They were napping out in the sunshine, and Marra was allowing herself to enjoy it just as much as they were. So, quietly, she sang to herself. However, she stopped abruptly as some people giggled in the distance. Frowning, she crept up in the sound of their voices. "Should we bring Marra?" she heard a girl ask, her innocent maiden-voice filled with not hopefulness, but irritation. "No," replied another. "She'd most likely whine the whole time. Or sing! Have you ever heard someone sing so much?! It's so obnoxious!" Marra could feel her face grow warm, and she knew she had heard enough. Slowly, she retreated. The weeks after that were spent without song, with Marra only doing her things with monotony in her step. Her parents fights had been growing worse, and she made a point of avoiding her friends. If they didn't want her around, she could figure to give them what they desired. It was also around this time where she began to seriously punch walls- enough to make her bleed, and at one point, she got a fracture. Her mother threatened her with sending her off to live at Healer Hall in one of their locked rooms, while the people around her spread wild rumors about her temper. Oddly, she didn't care for the rumors. It kept the girls away, so, so be it. Compromising with her mother, she packed her bags not for Healer Hall, but for Harper Hall, to be an apprentice, but moreso not to be a problem for her now-single mother to deal with.

"I am not a child," she growled, but her voice was shaky. Scowling at him, she shot, "And don't judge me. I never wanted your opinion, shut your mouth." Pushing the chair back with extreme violence, she didn't watch it as it teetered dangerously on the point of falling down. "For your information," she went on, "I never will have an interest with having friends. Humankind is a dirty bunch of rags, needing each other only for reproduction. They betray each other to get what they want. Don't deny it, I know it's true from firsthand experience."

She wanted to smack this boy. She resisted the urge to punch not the wall, but his face. It was quite a feat, holding back. "Tell me, were you raised with the feeling of being surrounded by people and being kissed on the forehead every night? Such paradise is fake. Get over yourself." With that, Marra slammed her paper on the desk, her last sentence a dismissal of Rawign. She was not going to deal with him.

[glamourie]

Rawign smiled, but the expression was a cold one. She thought he came from a happy friendly life? No, not really. He'd been raised in Nerat, son of a fisher, and his father expected him to follow in his footsteps. He spent Turns studying fishing and going out on boats while everyone else his age was learning or playing around together outside. His life wasn't easy, but he knew it wasn't hard, either. Rawign wasn't an individual who looked down on hard work, and if he was told to do something, he did it, simply put. He wouldn't like it, but he knew his place. The problem arose when he decided he didn't like being Rawn's son, the boy-fisher anymore. He wanted to do something more with his life than haul fish into a ship, gut and prepare them. He wanted his life to be more valuable than simply ending some poor packfish's, more valuable than braving storms at sea. He wanted to do more with his life than marry and have kids by the time he was twenty-Turns old and he'd told his father as much. The day he said he wanted to be a Healer was the biggest and worst disagreement he and his father ever had. That night, Rawign ran away from his home to Healer Crafthall, on foot.

He hadn't seen his father since. He didn't even know if he was alive. Did he regret that? Sometimes. Most of the time. Healer Hall was the biggest and most horrible change he'd ever endured, not because the Hall was unwelcoming but because he never wanted to care about anyone the way he did his father again. He wouldn't give anyone the chance to hurt him. He'd started out cold and sarcastic, but as an apprentice, such attitudes were not tolerated. He learned to bite his tongue and still his anger, temper his moods to some degree, until he could control himself better than most apprentices could. But the unfriendliness remained, along with a cautious approach to individuals. When he left Healer Hall, Rawign didn't have any friends. He hadn't made any at Selenitas, either. Only enemies... and Marra.

"I wasn't going to deny it," Rawign replied simply, "because it's true, though those words are not the phrasings I would have chosen." He shrugged slightly. "You're not exactly good at hiding your emotions, are you? I wonder how you made it through apprenticeship. I tried the angry-at-the-world-sarcastic approach but honestly, all it got me was yelled at, punished and periodically scorned by my peers. So instead, I started pretending to care when really I don't. You might want to try it, it certainly spares a lot of stress."

But she was a child. In assuming her life was the worst, she was a child. Even if she'd been badly abused by her mother, father, brothers and sisters every single day, even if she'd been made to work more than every other child she knew, even if she'd been thrown around and starved, life could always get worse. The pessimist's anthem, that was: never doubt the ability of the world to get worse instead of better. Rawign had grown up enough to recognize that while his life hadn't been wonderful, others endured worse every day, and it wasn't his place to assume whether or not others could understand his stance. He didn't give them a chance to, but he did recognize that there were people on Pern who had endured far worse than he had and came out on top in the end. Marra was still child enough to see only her own pain, and that was why she was miserable. She could say whatever she wanted, but he believed whole-heartedly in that one statement.

An idea occurred to him then, distant, almost as if he hadn't realized it was coming to him. Maybe he and Marra could use each other. She would surely not appreciate that phrasing but he was betting that they could be of considerable use to one another, even if they didn't like one another's personality...

"There are good people in the world, too. I can show you people who have endured worse, and people who can make it better. I can show you people who will make you doubt whether or not everyone is awful. I won't tell you the world's a wonderful place, it isn't. But if you're willing to accept the challenge, I'm willing to bend. I'll show you people who make humanity worthwhile if you're willing to come out of this lovely apartment of yours to try the challenge. And if I can prove that there is some good left in this world, maybe we'll both be better off. I won't ask you to trust any of them - or me - but I'm asking you to come with me around the Weyr for awhile and try to look at Pern with an open mind. I don't think you've tried." And neither had he. He needed to. If he could prove it to her, he could prove it to himself. "Are you up for the challenge, or are you going to hide in here away from everyone?"

[Administrator]

Marra frowned at Rawign. She could hide her emotions when she wanted to! The dimglow. She hesitated. “I wasn’t angry at Harper Hall!” she protested feebly, though its ineffectiveness may have stemmed from the fact that even if she wasn’t angry externally, she was on the inside and her feelings were just as easy to read. She fidgeted slightly, remembering some of the first words Jenicey said at their confrontation, “Look at you. This isn’t normal. I think this is depression, lovey, but I can be there for you if you only let me help.” And she had accepted that help. She frowned at Rawign. Getting into arguments with people was also good at relieving stress, too. At least it would show people she was alive rather than a complete hermit.

She reached for the door, trying to hint to him that she wanted to shut him out of the room, but paused. “Good people only exist through selfishness,” she told him flatly, letting go of the door to fold her arms, giving him a classic scowl. “They don’t truly care for others. They are simply infatuated with the idea of being the hero to other people, or out of grudging obligation. I’m positive that if they didn’t care about being a hero or didn’t feel obliged to help, there would be no good people in the world.” Of course, Jenicey was the one exception. The woman was like a mother to her. Marra had never requested help from her. In fact, she had tried scaring the woman off. Yelling, punching walls, thrashing about. But rather than give up, Jenicey had persisted. So many people could, should, and would have given up. But not her.

Regarding him for a long moment with her suspicious blue gaze, Marra lowered herself into her chair, forgetting that her inked pants would probably leave a smear on it. Folding one leg over the other, she held her gaze unwavering on Rawign. The word ‘challenge’ was the one that caught her attention. So, now he was daring her. Marra had too much pride to let herself back down from this, even though it was miserable thinking about Rawign dragging her everywhere just to watch people and their displays of disguised selfishness. She sighed.

“Fine,” she told him shortly. “Show me the wonderful world of good-people. Prove to me that humans are selfish.” Crossing her arms firmly, she looked at him with an irate expression. He would be wasting his time. She could see faults in every action, so this would be no different.

[glamourie]

Ha! Rawign bit back the urge to smirk, pleased with himself, if only because he'd measured her correctly - he could challenge her to jump off a cliff and she'd probably agree just to be contrary. Unfortunately, contrary seemed to be a strong suit of hers. Part of him longed to ask how she became so bitter, if only because he had met people who endured things he could barely begin to describe, who clung to life and people like a lifeline. Most good things left in the world were so hard to find that even Rawign had trouble acknowledging them; he was jaded enough to admit that Marra definitely had a point, and that in itself probably was not the best testament to his little cause. Proving things to her was going to be hard, but maybe...

He'd definitely have to ask for help, though. Finding someone who was capable of seeing the good in the world was going to be a project in itself, and he almost wished he had more time to think things through before he'd blurted out his thoughts for Marra to hear. Really, it was a spur of the moment decision and he had no ideas on how to go about proving anything to her. For the moment, at least, Marra had a reprieve from his presence.

"I'll send Beggar with an invitation later on, then," he replied quietly, otherwise overlooking her obvious pessimism. She was surely going to make it difficult for him, but he wasn't expecting anything less. The more difficult she was, the more determined he'd be to prove himself. Rawign wasn't the type to give up, and he was just stubborn enough to push when he thought he was right. Unfortunately, he did agree with her in that most of the world was bitter, spiteful and angry, not unlike the two of them clearly were. But there were good people. He could think of one right off the top of his head, and maybe that one person would be able to help him come up with a way to deal with Marra and to prove to her that others weren't all awful. He'd just have to get up the nerve to actually ask her, when he didn't know her all that well. Talk about a question coming right out of the sky... "But remember, you said an open-mind. I'll go now; I hope you like your flowers."

Offering her a wide smile, Rawign walked backwards to the door of her apartment and then out again. He didn't know if she even remembered who Beggar was (he hadn't stayed long, moody thing) but she'd find out soon enough. He just hoped he could get the little blue to avoid frantically trying to get Marra to feed him on sight. With the way he behaved, it was a wonder no one accused him of neglecting that firelizard. Honestly!