"Ah, you poor boy." [she reaches out a hand, hovering over his cheek but not touching] "I'm so sorry. It must not be easy, seeing the spirits as you do, in this time. Not many people believe in it any more, especially over here."
[There's no actual touch. She only comes close, couldn't touch, not really, even if she tried. But instinctively, Edward flinches away.]
Well, why would they? [He's trying to keep his voice cold, harsh, empty. A defense mechanism.] It makes a lot more sense that I'm just trying to get attention.
[her expression morphs into concern as he flinches away, and she withdraws her hand]
"To foolish, closed minds, yes." [she huffs] "They are not worth your time, your pain, or your bitterness. If they have wronged you, they deserve your wrath, and barring that, nothing else." [her voice is hard]
[Oswald, on the other hand, can't help but listen to this one-sided conversation. He's not sure where it's going or what's happening, and he's honestly trying to block it out but...how can he?]
"What do they matter? You are better without them. One day, someone will believe you. Multiple someones, even. And then you will have those worth your while."
[she pauses, turning to glance at Oswald, who is looking through his file again, idly]
"He should believe you, my Oswald. I was always very insistent he learn the ways of our people; the tales of the golem, the respect for the dead, the ghost of Elijah the prophet." [she hums, thoughtfully]
[Edward frowns, at that. Staring down at the table, because he's not sure what else to do with himself right now.
It's a nice thought.
He knows it's a nice thought because he used to have it all the time. There were a few times where he did think he found someone, even. Someone who understood or who believed.
It never went anywhere good. That's how he learned how dangerous hope can be. What happened then hurt so much more because he'd dared to hope for something else.
...Still. If... If nothing else... Maybe he could--]
[before he can even answer, though, she's waving a hand] "No, it not matter, as long as you get the melody--here." [she shifts, sitting up a bit.] "You repeat after me, yes?"
[It... really feels like he's been put on the spot here. It's... hard. He feels so unsure of himself and that's vulnerability, even if just a little bit, and god he hates that.
So he hesitates, a little, but... slowly, eventually, he'll... copy her. Softly, almost like he's a little scared to.]
[and then, suddenly, there's a loud snap--loud enough to startle Gertrude into stopping, and she glances over--
Oswald is just...staring at Edward. The pencil in his hand has snapped from the grip he has on it, trembling, and he's white as a sheet, his eyes wide and wet. He looks like Edward's just gone and slapped him--shocked, hurt, devastated.]
[Edward breathes in. Managing to calm himself down. Because it's... fine. This is fine. Why wouldn't this happen? It's not the first time someone's gotten aggressive with him.
It's nothing he hasn't dealt with before.
So he manages to get his face neutral again, even as Oswald leans in close.]
[at that, she pauses, licking her lips, looking back and forth from Edward to Oswald and back again]
"Gertrude. Gertrude Kapelput."
[but Oswald's gone, somehow, paler--and has abruptly released Edward, jolting back like he suddenly can't stand to be near him, and his eyes are wet and wide and spilling over--and he's shaking pretty badly as he looks away, shoving his papers into his file, scooping it up]
Why--you--[he shakes his head, breath hitching in his chest, expression still twisted into a grimace]
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He doesn't answer her. He doesn't know what he'd even say.
But that alone probably says plenty.]
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Well, why would they? [He's trying to keep his voice cold, harsh, empty. A defense mechanism.] It makes a lot more sense that I'm just trying to get attention.
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"To foolish, closed minds, yes." [she huffs] "They are not worth your time, your pain, or your bitterness. If they have wronged you, they deserve your wrath, and barring that, nothing else." [her voice is hard]
[Oswald, on the other hand, can't help but listen to this one-sided conversation. He's not sure where it's going or what's happening, and he's honestly trying to block it out but...how can he?]
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[she pauses, turning to glance at Oswald, who is looking through his file again, idly]
"He should believe you, my Oswald. I was always very insistent he learn the ways of our people; the tales of the golem, the respect for the dead, the ghost of Elijah the prophet." [she hums, thoughtfully]
"You simply need the right proof."
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It's a nice thought.
He knows it's a nice thought because he used to have it all the time. There were a few times where he did think he found someone, even. Someone who understood or who believed.
It never went anywhere good. That's how he learned how dangerous hope can be. What happened then hurt so much more because he'd dared to hope for something else.
...Still. If... If nothing else... Maybe he could--]
...
Like what?
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"...how is your singing voice?"
[before he can even answer, though, she's waving a hand] "No, it not matter, as long as you get the melody--here." [she shifts, sitting up a bit.] "You repeat after me, yes?"
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He just...
He nods, quietly. Okay. Sure. Alright...]
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"The fire has gone out, wet from snow above,--"
[and then looks at him expectantly]
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So he hesitates, a little, but... slowly, eventually, he'll... copy her. Softly, almost like he's a little scared to.]
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...His voice isn't so bad, honestly. Quiet, yes, and it'd be better if he was less anxious about it, but you can't really blame him for that.]
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"I light another candle, dry the tears from my face."
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What's he even doing, honestly...]
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[and then, suddenly, there's a loud snap--loud enough to startle Gertrude into stopping, and she glances over--
Oswald is just...staring at Edward. The pencil in his hand has snapped from the grip he has on it, trembling, and he's white as a sheet, his eyes wide and wet. He looks like Edward's just gone and slapped him--shocked, hurt, devastated.]
....how. [his voice is, at best, a rasp]
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Maybe this was a mistake.]
I... um--
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I--
I don't, really, I was just... She told me to--
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[naturally, though, her words fall on deaf ears as Oswald leans in, teeth bared in a snarl]
She who?
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It's nothing he hasn't dealt with before.
So he manages to get his face neutral again, even as Oswald leans in close.]
Your mother.
...I forgot to ask her name. Kind of rude of me.
[And almost calmly, he glances over at her.]
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"Gertrude. Gertrude Kapelput."
[but Oswald's gone, somehow, paler--and has abruptly released Edward, jolting back like he suddenly can't stand to be near him, and his eyes are wet and wide and spilling over--and he's shaking pretty badly as he looks away, shoving his papers into his file, scooping it up]
Why--you--[he shakes his head, breath hitching in his chest, expression still twisted into a grimace]
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Nothing to get upset about.]
...Gertrude Kapelput. That's it.
[He's quiet, as he just... watches Oswald.]
...I'm sorry.
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[and with that he's turning and getting out of that room as fast as he possibly can.
Gertrude watches him go, brow creased into a deep frown, wringing her hands--before she turns her attention back to Edward]
"--I'm so sorry. I thought he would react better than that, for certain--"
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[Edward doesn't really look up again. He just smooths out his collar some more.]
As far as reactions go, that wasn't so bad.
[........the fact that that wasn't so bad is, of course, extremely worrying.]
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