Give me a moment, she said. And Ari took that moment, the moment she had turned her back on him; he made the most of it by letting his expression fall away from all the false calm – a brief moment to breathe out, heavily, and to hurt, and to be. He counted out, up to ten and then listened out for Zelda’s footsteps back. He closed the bathroom door, because nothing was broken in there, and moved further down the hallway, wondering if perhaps he should just leave now.
He wanted to. But he wanted to disappear more often than not, so he knew how to dispel the temptation just as well. By the time his sister reappeared, he had shifted back into old Ari, the Ari she knew. “Zelda, I’ve been a healer since before you could walk,” he reminded her, shaking his head in amusement as he reached out for the gauze, “I think I can manage, myself.”
(He felt slightly bad about this too, casually using her age against her: I’m older, I know better, I’m right and you’re wrong. You can’t tell me to be more careful.)
And he didn’t want to bandage himself up in front of her, he would have preferred she left him alone – but he could manage, he could get away with this scot free. He stepped back into the sitting room and sat down again, gauze and scissors balanced on his knee, and his body angled as away from her as he dared. It would be finicky work, doing this under his sleeve, but Ari’s whole life had been an exercise in subtle misdirection, so he tossed a glance at her again in the middle of it. “You know you sound different,” he told her, “now you’re a mother. Be more careful,” he echoed, with a grin – terribly fond of Zelda, and despising himself. “I never thought I’d see the day.”
He wanted to. But he wanted to disappear more often than not, so he knew how to dispel the temptation just as well. By the time his sister reappeared, he had shifted back into old Ari, the Ari she knew. “Zelda, I’ve been a healer since before you could walk,” he reminded her, shaking his head in amusement as he reached out for the gauze, “I think I can manage, myself.”
(He felt slightly bad about this too, casually using her age against her: I’m older, I know better, I’m right and you’re wrong. You can’t tell me to be more careful.)
And he didn’t want to bandage himself up in front of her, he would have preferred she left him alone – but he could manage, he could get away with this scot free. He stepped back into the sitting room and sat down again, gauze and scissors balanced on his knee, and his body angled as away from her as he dared. It would be finicky work, doing this under his sleeve, but Ari’s whole life had been an exercise in subtle misdirection, so he tossed a glance at her again in the middle of it. “You know you sound different,” he told her, “now you’re a mother. Be more careful,” he echoed, with a grin – terribly fond of Zelda, and despising himself. “I never thought I’d see the day.”
