talentsgirl | [ Voice, Action ] "You lost today, kid. But that doesn't mean you have to like it."

[Molly debated, but in the end, didn't lock this post from Harry. It was as good as a note slipped under his door, really.]

Hey, Luceti, here's a crazy question. Does anyone know the best path up to the mountains? I hear there's a lake up there I'd like to see. And does the Welcome Center keep those really good maps in stock, the ones that are a bit more in detail than the one in the journal?

And here's a slightly less crazy question - if there's anyone feel like filling in an inquiring mind and have a chat over a cold one, I'd love to know some more about these missions everyone keeps going on. Even if it was about the more recent one, or about one of the ones we can sign up for, there's nothing like first hand experience. I'll be in the Good Spirits from 1-3 if there's any takers.

[And that is exactly where she will be, sitting at the bar or on one of the tables, looking friendly over a cold one... which will originally be an iced tea. She may upgrade, depending on the conversation and the conversate-ee.

After her time in the Good Spirits, hopefully chatting with friendly, informative folk and if not spent poured over a very old-looking book and a village map (hopefully someone will help her get her hands on one of the Nami editions), she'll head to the Item Shop and finish picking out her camping gear. After being exposed to some serious bad news magic, she hasn't been quite herself. And this dusty old book and a remembered conversation with Shiro once upon a time has given her an idea.]

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For a moment, Molly was tempted to take this very seriously, to reach over and touch his shoulder and look at him in the eyes, if briefly. She was tempted to explain the intimacy, the permanence of a soulgaze.

But then the reality of what he said sunk in, and she laughed, softly. "You say that as if being a soldier was something to be ashamed of, instead of one of the things you are most proud of being."

She grinned, shaking her head and darting a glance at him. "What do you take me for, to be afraid of a thing like that?"

He had thought it to be quite an accomplishment. Private all the way up to Major. A captured eagle. Two Forlorn Hopes. Wellesley's errand boy -- even that ignominous position came with some pride. But...

"...Fool's worries. Mine -- I mean. Goddamnnit but the pirate put some queer notions in my head and..."

And her laugh was was like a balm, really.

"Souls might as well be like buttons. What good are they polished? Eh?" All in good fun. Laugh it off, Sharpe. Laugh it off. She needn't see you sweat.

Edited 2012-09-07 17:11 (UTC)

Molly propped an elbow on the table and her chin in her hand as she regarded him. The crucifix affixed to the plain strip of leather there glistened. "There's just one Judge of Souls, and it's not for me to say what one is good or not. The thing about the soulgaze is - it shows you the person, who the person really is in their deepest places. It's - not something you ever forget. It can be helpful, if you're trying to determine who you're dealing with, or if a person's caught up in something - like if something's keeping them trapped. It's not something I'd ever want to force on anyone."

Something she'd get swept up into? Yes. Something she'd do with friends and family? Maybe. It's such a risk, such personal vulnerability is involved... it's so intimate.

"Not summat you care to leap into yourself, either, I suppose?"

Ah, well. It was something to work towards. An eventual benediction, perhaps.

"It's not something anyone should."

Power wasn't to play with. Power could sneak up, bash you over the head, and suddenly you were offering your soul over to a vampire because he was hurting and you wanted to help, because he was beautiful and brave and the pain would be pleasure, and you were leaving your responsibilities on the wayside because you were caught up, swept away, in an instant of power. And she knew it was a mistake. And she was practically certain she'd make it again.

"...Must be awful lonely, if you don't mind me saying so."

"Oh, I don't know. You can do a lot of things without looking someone in the eyes."

Deliberately cheeking and moderately salacious. Because of course he was right. She'd done the math. By the time the White Council would begin to take her seriously, her youngest brother would be dying of old age. If she was lucky enough, smart enough to live that long in the first place - Harry hadn't been, and if that didn't tell her what her life expectancy was, she didn't know what would.

"But are they ever quite so thrilling, lass?" Said the equally cheeky but nevertheless somewhat sentimental Major.

Her rejoinder was, perhaps, far more telling than she'd intended, caught up in the banter and not quite guarding her words, "I wouldn't know."

...Huh. Well. It was clear enough that she could have simply been referring to her low eye-contact in general but could you blame a man for his wandering mind?

Sharpe cleared his throat.

Of course -- sweet maid like her. Molly had a tongue in her head but she'd seemed nothing but good and true to the soldier. Virtuous. Not that he'd find aught wrong with her if she wasn't but...

The woman had heart and she didn't seem to hide it. Sharpe liked that about her. Even this banter slip-up felt soaked in honesty.

"More's the pity for your admirers, Miss Molly."

Molly found herself off-balance, caught between the desire to want to explain or gloss over, and finding herself actually... blushing very faintly.

Good grief, Molly Carpenter.

She made a solid attempt at pulling herself together and regaining some ground.

"This," she said firmly, straightening up, "is striking me as Third Date conversation."

"Third, eh?"

He refrained from explaining just how he might choose to count the meetings they'd so far shared. After all, many of them had been born of intense determination on his part.

"Then -- tell me -- what must an admirer do to win hisself a first?"

...well, that was a fair question, really. A bit unexpected and blunt, but fair.

"First..." she said, darting a gaze at his eyes and smiling a little sadly, "dates aren't things you win. They're just things you ask for, and if it's the right time, or the right person, then they're something that's given."

She shook her head, "And this isn't the right time for me. Not for anything serious."

...Ah. Sharpe didn't bother to hide his disappointment. But he did try to soothe his own bruised pride: easy come, easy go -- you gave it a shot, Sharpe.

He wrapped his fingers around his glass. The Major knew better than to push a proposition any further. He could've told her unequivocally that he didn't need anything serious. He'd take what she'd give him, but...

"I...understand, lass."

But if she wanted him, he thought, she wouldn't have answered this thusly.

Do you?

She glanced down at her drink and wished it was stronger.

"If you want to make polite excuses, we can skip that part. You can just go."

She thought better of him, but... hearing a rejection is never easy.

Was she dismissing him? This, he thought, was her right. The social cue. The lovely woman who graciously allowed the unchosen to leave with his dignity intact. It was enough to help him smile.

"You're a good lass, Molly. Too good to a clumsy-tongued man."

He tapped her maps. "Take care of yourself. Give us a shout if you need aught."

...well. Would it have been so hard to give the man a date, Molly Carpenter?

No. But it would have been wrong.

She felt a brief sweep of shame. He was a good man, and she'd have liked to be his friend... and if things were different...

Well. They weren't.

She lifted her clear gaze to him, sad and soft. "Thank you, Richard. Maybe I'll see you when I get back."

[ Voice, Action ] "You lost today, kid. But that doesn't mean you have to like it."

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