Avery picks up the folded piece of clothing and the needle and sets about completing Ekkehardt's work, his movements as smooth and natural as if it were something he was simply born to do.
"I don't like it. When I do like it, I don't like that I like it, and I know for a fact that even if I find a way to break whatever curse has got ahold of my wife's mind, I'm never going to see her again." He jabs the needle in with a bit more force than necessary. "Everything in my life up to this point has been for absolutely nothing and gotten me nowhere but a cell, so I figure the best way to go about things now is to just, you know, ignore it. Forget about it. That hero? Not me. Not anymore. That guy's dead as a doornail."
"That's one way of doing things, I suppose." He watches, utterly fascinated by how easily Avery handles the cloth, like it's something he's done his entire life. If that happens to mean he's predominantly staring at Avery's hands then, well, the rest of his brain hasn't caught up to that yet.
It's not a curse, he almost says, and then he decides not to.
"Far different from mine, but I expected no less."
He doesn't talk about himself often, or at all. When he does talk, it's about simple things, like what's for dinner tonight or i'm going to fix this part of the ruins or there are people snooping around again. Always focused in the present, never the past, never much towards the future either.
He takes the opportunity and runs with it. "So then what's the deal with yours? I told you about me, so I think it's only fair that you do the same, don't you?"
And even if he doesn't, even if he's just as cagey as he always is, it at least takes the spotlight off of Avery's issues for awhile.
"What's there to speak of? It was miserable." There's a bitter little sting to his words, something hard to swallow. They spill out, like blood from a wound. "I wondered if it was my fault, that I was unworthy, or somehow, too much so. That I alone had changed what was supposed to be a blessing into a curse."
Left with little to do with his hands, they curl into fists on the table where he's left them, for a moment.
"And because I was thought of as contagious, I was left alone with those thoughts, to rot. To be consumed by them."
He leans on the table, propping his chin up with his hand, his gaze steady. "Is that enough for you, or would you like me to go on?"
Avery's eyes narrow and he glares down at the needle, lips pressed into a thin line. So it was basically the exact opposite of what Ekkehardt was doing for him, then.
"Only if it involves the ways you got revenge on them. Hopefully I didn't get in the way of that." Harsh of him, perhaps, but if that's what those people had done, then they only had themselves to blame. "Because it sounds to me like the fools didn't do their due diligence and decided to blame someone else for their failures."
The terse words certainly recontextualise Ekkehardt's actions - to some extent. Even he doesn't know whether he did such things because someone hadn't done the same for him, or it was simply a sense of duty, or some other stimulus yet to be considered. It's unclear, ambiguous, like most things about him.
"You can't be everywhere." He shrugs. "By the time I saw them again, I had little to say to them, and I was unrecognisable." His head tilts slightly. "Even to the person who had begged me to help him, to take his place, I was unrecognisable."
He still doesn't know whether that was a good thing or not. The fear would have stung more, perhaps, if there had been recognition. Or perhaps not. He doesn't know.
"So you did it as a favor and they still acted like that... Tch. You know it's not too late to make them regret what they did, right? If they're not already dead, I mean. I'll even look the other way."
He finishes patching one part of the garment and moves to another. "If you pick up some fabric on your way there, I'll even let you do one other devilish deed for free."
"Are you trying to be my moral compass now?" His mood has swung back to amusement, at least for a moment, though it's nothing like the sharp thing it usually is. It's vulnerability he can't seem to shrug off or discard, now that it's out in the open. "If I wanted to do anything that I thought your remaining sensibilities might object to, I just wouldn't tell you."
He watches Avery's hands, still, avidly interested. "Though if it's fabric you want, then that's easy enough to arrange."
"I've got plenty of sensibilities!" Avery huffs, a hand pressed dramatically to his chest. "Most of them happen to want fabric right now, but there are more beyond that, I assure you!"
Does he?
He's not sure. Strangely, it doesn't bother him nearly as much as it would have when he first left that cell. "As to the moral compass part of things, that's entirely up to how you see it, Ekke."
"Oh, we're up to nicknames now?" There's no bite to the words; it seems like a genuine comment. He's caught off-guard by it, really. "That's a dangerous path to go down. I might even think you enjoyed my company occasionally."
He had been content, serving at his lord's side, maintaining a distant but respectful relationship. They'd cared for each other, in their own way, but they understood that being close was foolish, when death was so close, and they had little else to lose.
(Still, he'd grieved. Still, he grieved. Another weakness.)
He still has very little to lose, now that his life is forfeit. This would be another weakness, another link that could be exploited.
He should remember that. But it's difficult to, when things are pleasant, when his guard is down.
Avery smirks, looking smug as ever and yet, somehow, pleased. "Let's just say you're not nearly as awful as I used to think you were. I'll let you know when 'enjoy' is on the table."
He laughs. "Could be worse, you know! I could have gone for 'bonehead!' You're practically begging for a flood of puns."
"Splendid. I can see your good mood has made you even more intolerable." He just sighs, shaking his head, but doesn't actually do anything to counteract that.
I'm not planning to get used to enjoying your company, so don't hold your breath, he almost says, and then, once again, holds his tongue.
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Avery picks up the folded piece of clothing and the needle and sets about completing Ekkehardt's work, his movements as smooth and natural as if it were something he was simply born to do.
"I don't like it. When I do like it, I don't like that I like it, and I know for a fact that even if I find a way to break whatever curse has got ahold of my wife's mind, I'm never going to see her again." He jabs the needle in with a bit more force than necessary. "Everything in my life up to this point has been for absolutely nothing and gotten me nowhere but a cell, so I figure the best way to go about things now is to just, you know, ignore it. Forget about it. That hero? Not me. Not anymore. That guy's dead as a doornail."
no subject
He watches, utterly fascinated by how easily Avery handles the cloth, like it's something he's done his entire life. If that happens to mean he's predominantly staring at Avery's hands then, well, the rest of his brain hasn't caught up to that yet.
It's not a curse, he almost says, and then he decides not to.
"Far different from mine, but I expected no less."
He doesn't talk about himself often, or at all. When he does talk, it's about simple things, like what's for dinner tonight or i'm going to fix this part of the ruins or there are people snooping around again. Always focused in the present, never the past, never much towards the future either.
no subject
And even if he doesn't, even if he's just as cagey as he always is, it at least takes the spotlight off of Avery's issues for awhile.
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Left with little to do with his hands, they curl into fists on the table where he's left them, for a moment.
"And because I was thought of as contagious, I was left alone with those thoughts, to rot. To be consumed by them."
He leans on the table, propping his chin up with his hand, his gaze steady. "Is that enough for you, or would you like me to go on?"
no subject
"Only if it involves the ways you got revenge on them. Hopefully I didn't get in the way of that." Harsh of him, perhaps, but if that's what those people had done, then they only had themselves to blame. "Because it sounds to me like the fools didn't do their due diligence and decided to blame someone else for their failures."
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"You can't be everywhere." He shrugs. "By the time I saw them again, I had little to say to them, and I was unrecognisable." His head tilts slightly. "Even to the person who had begged me to help him, to take his place, I was unrecognisable."
He still doesn't know whether that was a good thing or not. The fear would have stung more, perhaps, if there had been recognition. Or perhaps not. He doesn't know.
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He finishes patching one part of the garment and moves to another. "If you pick up some fabric on your way there, I'll even let you do one other devilish deed for free."
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He watches Avery's hands, still, avidly interested. "Though if it's fabric you want, then that's easy enough to arrange."
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Does he?
He's not sure. Strangely, it doesn't bother him nearly as much as it would have when he first left that cell. "As to the moral compass part of things, that's entirely up to how you see it, Ekke."
no subject
He had been content, serving at his lord's side, maintaining a distant but respectful relationship. They'd cared for each other, in their own way, but they understood that being close was foolish, when death was so close, and they had little else to lose.
(Still, he'd grieved. Still, he grieved. Another weakness.)
He still has very little to lose, now that his life is forfeit. This would be another weakness, another link that could be exploited.
He should remember that. But it's difficult to, when things are pleasant, when his guard is down.
no subject
He laughs. "Could be worse, you know! I could have gone for 'bonehead!' You're practically begging for a flood of puns."
no subject
I'm not planning to get used to enjoying your company, so don't hold your breath, he almost says, and then, once again, holds his tongue.