In that quiet, the outline of this resolves itself. Part of it resembles something intolerable - a place that doesn't exist anymore, because it was razed to cinders at the behest of a dead woman with the help of a man who had recognized the vanity in this one. It gives him pause, ragged breathing sawing alongside the natural murmur of the ship about them. What is he asking for? And when placed in the same position--
(In another room, Rutyer says I want only what I said from the very start. Friendship between us. Shall I define friendship for you?)
--what part of himself would he be willing to expose?
"She won't be the last one. That is what this is." He raises his focus from the clench of John's hands to his face. "That is the reality of where we are."
This changes nothing John wants to say, but of course, it has changed everything. That is the price. John has seen others like him pay it, over and over and over again. He sees between them cracks, spidering out beyond John's ability to repair.
"What does that mean?"
Between them, the shared concept of reality is bending beneath the weight of this truth. The shorthand between them is blurred, and John doesn't know how long it will take to restore it, to discern the true extent of the damage that has been done here.
"It means that if we're to do what we came here to, that we must be prepared--" he is making some careful motion with his hands, swollen knuckles and the minor catch of light on bits of metal as he turns then over. Easy, it says. This is precisely why they are having this discussion here, now. This is damage that can be moderated. They simply have to understand it.
"To withstand this place and what it will ask of us. That until now, we have been acting with an eye turned toward the preservation of our the roles Riftwatch has defined for us, but that I see a future where we will either be forced to expose ourselves or admit that our efforts here don't actually service this war."
Will he live the rest of his days here in Kirkwall feeling the cinch of a snare? He feels it as Flint speaks. Sweat breaks across his skin as he draws a deep, careful breath. He thinks of Isaac, the invitation that was not an invitation at all.
John straightens, crutch taking his weight.
"Please understand, I do not want this to be known."
It has been said before. I do not want this, before Howell's saw had bit into his flesh. I do not want this life, before being drawn inescapably into the affairs of pirates.
"If I could have ripped these abilities from my blood I would have done so a long time ago. I have no wish to embrace—"
His voice breaks. In that break, the beat of silence, there lives a terrible, unnamed thing. The fear of it drives John's mind in one direction. It takes effort to consider the two options Flint invoked rather than scuttling blindly from one of them.
"I will manage the consequences of this. It won't touch our business here. I wouldn't allow that."
His hand twitches out, but the line of his arm doesn't actually extend from where it lays across his thigh. Just that small motion forward draws a stitch of pain through his side.
The intent registers, even if the action does not. John inhales, grip flexing on the crutch. Attempts at persuasion spin desperately through his mind but for the moment, they settle. He meets Flint's gaze, expectation and apprehension obvious on his face.
There is an urge in what somehow feels somehow both like a surge of relief and a moment he won't easily capture again to say, Let us pretend that nothing happened. He could be blind to what had happened in the road; he could will himself to say I will forget this and we can go on just the same. There are men who would do it, who can be told to swallow pieces of themselves and do it, and they belong in places like this one.
So: "We have come all this way together. You must know that I wouldn't lie to you now. So when I say that I will protect this, know that I will go forward and do so to whatever extent I am able."
What shape will his actions be forced to take in order account for it? What effect will that have on their positions here and the people cinched tight about them by necessity? That he doesn't yet know.
The white-knuckled grip on his crutch loosens. John doesn't lean back against the table, but the tension passes from his body. He doesn't say anything for a long moment, holding Flint's gaze before he inclines his head.
"It won't interfere with our business," John repeats. Every other response is inadequate in the face of what Flint has offered to him. (I believe you. Thank you.)
There is some instant, involuntary flexion in the lines of his face - the flash of something brittle - and a hesitation he can't mitigate before it happens which says, It already has.
There is truth in that reaction. It's nothing John knows. He has become a certain kind of liability. He is quiet for a long moment, feeling the weight of that settle onto his shoulders.
John will manage it. He has been managing this secret for most of his life, and all that's different now is the stakes associated with failure.
"If what we've done pays off in Nevarra, you're right. This place will ask more of us."
If.
"I would not see us give up our investment here."
Now more than ever, the time spent here has to bear some reward. John has given this place a year and some odd months, and now his dearest secret. It cannot all come to nothing in the end.
"Then we're in agreement." He sounds very certain even as his thumb has set at the edge of one of his rings, unconsciously contemplating turning it around and around on its finger. "That's all I needed to know - to verify that we continue to drive this thing rather than be driven."
Decisions can be made as they create the circumstances which require them.
Flint's certainty echoes in John's voice. It has been many months of them speaking together, seeing the places where the world bends to meet them. But now the foundation has been shaken. There is some price to that, even if John cannot see the shape of it beyond this moment.
"If there's nothing else, I'll see to Mr. DeGroot."
There is something else. It must show in him somehow - in his face or in the small undecided motion of his hands or by the line of his shoulder angled away from the jutting pain in his side. His hand on a stone, measuring the effort and time it will take to turn over. Why isn't a question he can ask, but there are twenty more which occur to him just in the context of this room. But are any of them fundamentally different from that one, though? Don't they all point in that direction?
"See that the launch is made ready as well. I'll be off as soon as it is."
If he is patient, more productive questions will make themselves known.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
(In another room, Rutyer says I want only what I said from the very start. Friendship between us. Shall I define friendship for you?)
--what part of himself would he be willing to expose?
"She won't be the last one. That is what this is." He raises his focus from the clench of John's hands to his face. "That is the reality of where we are."
no subject
"What does that mean?"
Between them, the shared concept of reality is bending beneath the weight of this truth. The shorthand between them is blurred, and John doesn't know how long it will take to restore it, to discern the true extent of the damage that has been done here.
no subject
"To withstand this place and what it will ask of us. That until now, we have been acting with an eye turned toward the preservation of our the roles Riftwatch has defined for us, but that I see a future where we will either be forced to expose ourselves or admit that our efforts here don't actually service this war."
no subject
John straightens, crutch taking his weight.
"Please understand, I do not want this to be known."
It has been said before. I do not want this, before Howell's saw had bit into his flesh. I do not want this life, before being drawn inescapably into the affairs of pirates.
"If I could have ripped these abilities from my blood I would have done so a long time ago. I have no wish to embrace—"
His voice breaks. In that break, the beat of silence, there lives a terrible, unnamed thing. The fear of it drives John's mind in one direction. It takes effort to consider the two options Flint invoked rather than scuttling blindly from one of them.
"I will manage the consequences of this. It won't touch our business here. I wouldn't allow that."
no subject
"Stop. Just stop and listen to me."
no subject
no subject
So: "We have come all this way together. You must know that I wouldn't lie to you now. So when I say that I will protect this, know that I will go forward and do so to whatever extent I am able."
What shape will his actions be forced to take in order account for it? What effect will that have on their positions here and the people cinched tight about them by necessity? That he doesn't yet know.
no subject
"It won't interfere with our business," John repeats. Every other response is inadequate in the face of what Flint has offered to him. (I believe you. Thank you.)
no subject
"Of course."
no subject
John will manage it. He has been managing this secret for most of his life, and all that's different now is the stakes associated with failure.
"If what we've done pays off in Nevarra, you're right. This place will ask more of us."
If.
"I would not see us give up our investment here."
Now more than ever, the time spent here has to bear some reward. John has given this place a year and some odd months, and now his dearest secret. It cannot all come to nothing in the end.
no subject
Decisions can be made as they create the circumstances which require them.
no subject
Flint's certainty echoes in John's voice. It has been many months of them speaking together, seeing the places where the world bends to meet them. But now the foundation has been shaken. There is some price to that, even if John cannot see the shape of it beyond this moment.
"If there's nothing else, I'll see to Mr. DeGroot."
As if this is any other conversation.
no subject
"See that the launch is made ready as well. I'll be off as soon as it is."
If he is patient, more productive questions will make themselves known.