the_lioness | (no subject)

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*The sun is starting to set and it's growing increasingly chilly by the lake. Stretching her arms toward the sky, Alanna sighs happily and watches Peter for a moment. He's busy writing in one of his many notebooks, his brow furrowed in total concentration. She had quickly learned not to try and have a conversation with him once he got involved in his writings. She is surprisingly alright with that, enjoying the time outside. Whenever Peter started working, she could usually be found leaning against the tree with her eyes closed, a small smile revealing her contentment.

Alanna watches the shadows encroach and ponders starting a fire the old fashioned way. It had been awhile since she had done it without her Gift. Laughing, she mentally berates herself for this and grabs two sticks. She rubs them together for several moments, frowning when nothing happens.*

Mithros, I remember this being easier.

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Peter looks up from his paper, raising an eyebrow. "What are you doing?"

*Perplexed, Alanna continues frowning at the sticks in her hand.* Attempting to start a fire so you can continue working. *She turns and gives him a fond smile.* In case you didn't notice, it's starting to get dark.

And what Peter failed to notice was exactly that, as is made plain on that look on his face.

Well? Since it was getting dark, that clearly communicated that he'd been working too long.

"I'm done for now, anyway."

*Grinning, Alanna dusts her hands off on her breeches and plops down beside him.*

Oh, good. *She starts to whistle and points a finger at the pile of kindling. A few moments later, it flashes with purple fire. It flares high for a few seconds before settling back down to a soothing glow.* It's much easier that way.

*She stares at the fire, making sure the flames are manageable. Once she is convinced that all is well, she turns and looks at his profile. She doesn't say anything, just gives him a silly smile.*

"And here I can't even do it the normal way," Peter comments.

Alright. Not quite the truth: he could probably pull it off if pressed. But there are certain reasons he doesn't want to.

*Alanna snorts* Clearly, I can't either. *She continues to watch him, concerned by the look in his eye. Smiling gently, she reaches up and tucks a lock of his hair behind his ear.*

Your hair is getting long. *softly* I suspect you would figure it out rather quickly, Peter. Do not doubt yourself.

Peter gives a short, dark laugh. "Oh, I'm sure I could. But should I?" He doesn't explain this statement, but there's obviously something behind it.

And he moves on.

"Is it?" He stares at a bang that's falling into his eyes, as if it terribly interests him. Not that it does, at all. It's his mother that always kept his hair clean and well cut, not him. "I didn't notice."

*Alanna merely arches an eyebrow and backs up a bit. She stares at the fire in consternation, pondering how to handle Peter's bad mood. Ignore it? No, he would just continue to bite back. Address it? That would just make him more angry. Or would it? She frowns and absently rubs her nose. A thought occurs to her and she grins cheekily. Moving quickly, she scoots forward again, turns his head and kisses him firmly. Pulling back, she winks and retreats back to her former spot, a satisfied smile on her face. There. When in doubt, do the unexpected.*

*she shivers and reaches for her blanket.* The lake is so pretty at night. It seems so still. Like glass.

Peter stares at her for a moment, startled out of his dark thoughts. "What was that for?"

Not that he's complaining.

*Alanna wraps the blanket around her shoulders and continues staring at the lake.*

Do I need a reason? *Inhaling deeply, she turns her head and looks at him with a hint of challenge. Her eyebrow quirks and she grins.* Maybe I just felt like it. Maybe I was hoping it would make you smile.

Peter pauses at this, before a trace of one touchs his lips. Fifty-five percent forced, but forty-five percent genuine. It's the latter that counts, right?

*Alanna looks at him out of the corner of her eye and tries not to snort. She remains quiet for a a minute or so, watching the lake. Finally, she turns her head and looks at him with a worried expression.*

*quietly* What's wrong, Peter?

And the hint of a smile falls, leaving Peter looking dark. He picks up a stick and pokes at the fire. "You really want to hear? It has everything to do with this sort of thing."

*Alanna frowns and gives him a look that oh so eloquently expresses, "of course I do, you ninny." She looks back at the lake but moves closer, stopping only when their shoulders touch. She's not sure if she's trying to reassure herself or Peter.*

Yes. Yes, I do. You know you can talk to me about anything, Peter. I will always listen.

Peter glances around, gets up for a moment. He walks over to his pile of things, and after a moment, takes out a worn notebook. He walks back, and drops it on the fire.

*Momentarily bereft, Alanna just watches him. Her eyes widen as he drops a notebook into the fire, but she bites down on her lip before she can yelp in surprise.*

*dryly* The fire was in no danger of dying, you know. We have more than enough kindling. No need to sacrifice your hard work. *She studies him carefully.* Work that most people would kill to be able to produce.

Peter snorts. "Not that one. That one was purely... unneeded." Heavy doses of emotional upheaval, anyone? It deserved being burned.

Not that it was easy for him to do. But? Needed, somehow.

He shrugs, and sits back down, watching the fire for a moment. "That's what got me in trouble before."

Unneeded? Or unwanted? *Alanna watches him carefully, trying to understand what is in his eyes.*

What did? Burning your work? *She bites her lip and worries, convinced she will inevitably say the wrong thing.*

"...Unwanted, I suppose." Peter shrugs. "It wasn't even work, just emotional output. From when I first came in the bar." Blah blah blah Valentine is annoying blah blah blah I want another chance blah blah blah what the hell is this fair about blah blah blah. Yeah. That was a loss.

"Burning Ender's things."

*Alanna quirks an eyebrow but doesn't say another word about the notebook. She had her own way of burning off steam. Peter deserved his. Everyone did, really. Still... she stares at the fire and wonders.*

Ender's things? *She looks at him, her gaze steady - not judging, just concerned.* Why?

Peter exhales. "I don't know."

Or rather, he hadn't known then. Couldn't even gather a clue. Now? Yeah, he can go into motives, he can go into reasons why. But still, it's hard to understand.

But he can cut and paste reasons until it's thoroughly explained.

But is that right? Not really.

"I figured it would make things better." And that was true. "Get rid of some of the feelings. I read it somewhere." He shrugs. "It did nothing except earn me a slap to the face."

Hurt, too. Valentine could haul off real hard when she wanted to try.

*Alanna releases the breath she had been holding and looks at him with a pained expression.*

Oh, Peter. And here I was teasing you. I'm sorry. *She glances down and winces.* It feels like someone is choking you when people leave, doesn't it? You don't know whether to rage or cry at the injustice of it all.

*She smiles sadly and lightly traces her fingers along his cheekbone and down his face.*

Peter looks at her, his expression unreadable. He cathces her hand in his own and holds it.

"But the question is, did I ever really deserve to feel anything about his leaving? I never really..." He trails off. Right. He's not going to hide... one's never one to hide. But at the same time, he's not exactly eager to get on this subject with her. Who knows what she'll say if she knows certain... details?

When he speaks again, his voice is a little guarded. "Did the best things."

Yes. *Alanna's voice is firm. She glances at their hands and slowly twines her fingers through his, squeezing gently. Her breathing quickens a bit as she wonders how much he will tell her and how she will keep from revealing that she already knows. Well, knows some at any rate. She doubts anyone would ever know everything that goes on in Peter's head. Smiling reassuringly, she looks up at him again with bright eyes and decides she rather likes it that way.*

Just because your relationship with Ender may not have been the most... comfortable doesn't mean that his leaving wouldn't affect you. He is still your brother and his leaving probably changed your outlook on life in ways you couldn't possibly understand at that age. You dealt with the emotion the best way you could. *She pauses, suddenly really nervous.* What things?

Affected him in ways he couldn't possibly understand at that age.

Peter pauses, and is stuck between two decisions. Whether to show her the truth, the complete truth... or to stay in this form of a lie.

Isn't it better to do the former? Is it really fair to do the latter? And yet, he is very afraid. Something he never admits to himself that he is, something that he should not be. Why does the past always follow him? Why does it always label things with risks?

He finally speaks, making a semi passable imitation of himself at that age. A semi passable imitation where the voice shakes and cracks, just a little. "Lets play buggers and astronauts, Ender."

He doesn't look at her. She cannot possibly understand the significance yet, but she soon will. How she will react...

Time will only tell.

*Not flinching at that simple statement is one of the hardest things Alanna has done in recent memory. She watches him closely, careful to keep her hand relaxed within his. He doesn't understand, and that makes her heart hurt. The simple fact that he's having a hard time discussing this and admitting to his unsavory childhood speaks volumes about who he is today. Before she can stop herself, she rests her free hand along his cheek and gently nudges his face toward her. She wants to kiss him and pour everything she's thinking and feeling into the gesture, but something in his eyes holds her back. Her own eyes bright with concern, Alanna keeps her gaze locked on his and smiles reassuringly.*

*softly* Peter, it's alright. You can tell me. You can tell me anything. *Her mind screams, Don't be scared. Trust me. I may understand things better than you think.*

Peter closes his eyes, shakes his head. Right... nothing against her, nothing at all but to do this, he's going to have to revert a bit. He hates to do it, but...

If he wants to do this, he needs to do it in a way he can actually manage.

Revert. Right.

Withdraw.

Peter lies back on the ground, pulls his hand away and covers his eyes. He tries not to think about whether or not she's taking it personally. "Do you know what a monitor is?" Who knows, maybe Val told her.

*At first, it hurts. Alanna chews on her bottom lip and looks away. Moments later, he speaks, and she realizes what is going on. She sits quietly, staring at the lake. Thom withdraws from her all the time. She's used to it. Her conversation with Thom regarding his relationship with Alex flashes through her mind. Absently picking at a blade of grass, she remembers how her tendency to act before thinking almost ruined things that evening. Peter needs space? She'll give it to him.*

*quietly* It sounds familiar. A fresh explanation might be useful, however.

"Monitors... our little gifts from the IF for being considered for Battle School." And he hopes she understands what that is. Because? He doesn't want to explain that whole ball and chain. "Little machinary in the back of our necks for years of our childhood." He absently rubs the small scar on the back of his neck. The physical reminder of his failure.

He pauses here, because he may have to explain Battle School. Nothing else will make sense if that doesn't make sense to her.

*Alanna's eyes narrow and she barely keeps from snarling. The monitors seem like nothing more than a cruel, foul and inhumane practice to her. Sure, she understood the supposed purpose. However, it didn't lessen her visceral reaction to the idea. She swallows and turns to watch the fire. Peter's scar had not gone unnoticed. It made her want to kick things.

Battle School. Yes, she knows all about it. Goddess, what a life. It doesn't occur to her that she essentially went to a battle school of a very different sort. The difference is she had been allowed to grow up with some measure of freedom. Gritting her teeth, she nods.*

Right. *She pauses, muttering a few curses under her breath.* Go on.

And obviously from her reaction, she knows well about it. Good. Now he doesn't have to explain.

...but that doesn't cover everything else.

"I lost mine before I was five years old. My sister kept hers until she was three. Our -- " His breath catches before he can say the well trained insults. Damned brother, stupid brother, idiotic brother... no. No matter how much he's moved on from the bitter days, it still waits for him, ready and willing to come out. " -- Ender is the one that succeeded and went up. And I hated him for it, or thought I did.

And I was the worst brother of all to him as a result."

*Alanna stiffens, again wanting to pound the people responsible for this system. Who thought this was a good idea? Do they not understand the inevitable latent competition among siblings? Her face is inscrutable as she looks at him.*

Why did you react this way? Did you truly wish to take his place?

*Or were you just reacting badly to the departure of someone who had always been there and you thought always would - regardless of how you felt about him? Alanna turns back to the fire and concentrates on keeping her breathing even.*

"No... I felt he had taken -mine-. My deserved place." And Peter has to fight to keep his voice level, explainitory. Not full of what's threatening to come out. This isn't me anymore. It isn't.

"They turned me down when I would have done a damned good job, and gave it to him, the one who'd hid behind a weak girl every day of his life..."

He stops, realizes what he said. Bites down hard on his lip. Right... so he's still fucking pathetic. Good to know. "That's not how I meant to say that."

*Still staring at the fire, Alanna nods.* I understand that reaction, Peter. I felt something similar most of my childhood. Thom and I were inseparable and I loved him more than anyone. Yet on some level, I resented him for his future. I was better at sword fighting, climbing trees, archery and riding. Coram even said - I should have been the boy. It was my dream he was stealing and he didn't even want it. All I had to look forward to was years of boredom in the convent. *She shakes her head.* If things had worked out differently, I would have been in a very similar place.

Did you ever consider that you were just meant for different things? Maybe they saw strong potential for you elsewhere. It's possible they recognized that you had a different path to follow.

*Her nails bite into her palms at his comment. Eyes flashing, her face reddens with rising temper.* That "weak girl" has withstood more than most knights I know. It just goes to show that things are not always as they seem. *Her gaze softens at his last statement.*

I know, Peter. I know. *She smiles tentatively.* I can handle it.

"Not really. They said I was too aggressive, too quick to the punch. Too... angry for Battle School." And normally, Peter would keep the next comment in, but... "Which seems really idiotic. It's Battle School."

And in any other case, any other situation, he would react to what she had said about herself. He would say something about it. At the moment, all he can do is note it unconsciously. He'll remember it later, realize, and do something then.

He hears what she says, and sighs. Some of the anger seems to go out of him. "Yeah, I know. But you shouldn't have to."

He pauses, then says quietly, "I know Val's not weak."

*Gradually relaxing her shoulders, Alanna sighs. It still seemed rather idiotic to her too. She is suddenly assaulted by the image of Alex's murderous face as he gave into his rage and broke her collarbone. Shuddering, she stares at her hands and wonders.*

*softly* Looking back, can you see any glimmer of truth in their words? *She bites her lip.* I'm not agreeing with them, Peter. They certainly don't seem like shining examples of restraint and mercy themselves. I'm just curious if you can identify what made them say that.

*She sniffs and looks at him with an odd expression. Depending on how adept Peter is at reading her, he may or may not recognize the urge to hug him. She looks back at the lake.*

I'm glad. I think that would mean a lot to Val.

And here's where they hit the wall.

"I don't really care what the glimmer of truth is." Peter says stubbornly, covering his eyes once more and closing up.

*Alanna takes this in stride, slowly lowering herself to the cold ground. She stretches her arms overhead and sighs, letting her back crack. Shivering, she relocates the blanket and hugs it to her like a child clings to a toy. It doesn't matter that Peter has his hand over his eyes. He need not be worried. She can't look at him anyway.*

*quietly.* I do. I care about that, I care about what they did to you and I care about how it all made you feel. I care about you, Peter.

And despite the fact he couldn't look at her and she couldn't look at him, now... he does. He takes that hand off his eyes, glances her way, and is shaken by what he sees.

Right. Peter exhales, forces himself out of withdrawl and reachs out to her, putting a hand on her cheek. "This is why I don't do this. Because... it hurts you."

*Alanna turns her head slightly, rubs her cheek against his hand and gives him a misty smile. Her arms remain all tangled up in blanket, which is probably a very good thing at the moment.*

It only hurts me because it hurts you, and I want to help. I wish... *She pauses, closing her eyes.* I just want you to know that I'm here... for you.

"I've always known that." Peter gives her a small smile. "You've done more than enough to prove it."

*Alanna releases a pent up breath and goes back to studying the stars through the tree branches. She smiles wistfully at the night sky.*

Good. *She clears her throat.* I guess I'm rather hard to miss, always hounding you the way I do. *She laughs* I'm surprised you haven't kicked me in the rear and told me to leave you alone long before now. *She looks at him, her color high and her eyes bright.*

You don't have to tell me these things, but I will always want to listen.

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