Flint Madden (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
flint_garou) wrote2012-04-01 07:30 pm
flint_garou) wrote2012-04-01 07:30 pm
Entry tags:
Fixing things.
Not how I expected that'd go.
1 April, 2012
The moon is in the waxing Gibbous (Galliard) Moon phase (69% full).
Flint enters the lobby from the stairwell, sketchbook in hand, jacket on, hat on. It looks like Flint's headed to go out, though he meanders slowly, humming ever so softly to himself as he walks.
Devon is coming up the stairs from the basement about that time, outdoor clothing shed some time ago and thus typical t-shirt and jeans worn. His face is a mask of neutrality, nothing displayed upon it, and his eyes watch the floor more than where he's going.
Flint quiets when he spies the Ahroun, humming abruptly ceasing. "Hey," he says, with a nod of greeting. "About this morning, I'm sorry I. Snapped and yelled at you." Lips pull into a tight line, and Flint glances sideways towards the other cliath.
Devon looks up when Flint speaks, still nothing expressed in his features. "Thanks," Devon answers after a brief pause. "Salem's right, though. Whatever bad blood is between us needs to be dealt with. And I'm not sure what I ever did wrong, to you or anyone else in the tribe, to warrant constantly feeling like nothing I do is ever going to be good enough and that I'm merely expendable. But I'd like to offer you Contrition for my wrongs, known and unknown, my room and my laptop are yours. Any repairs that need to be done, I will do."
Flint glances to meet Devon's gaze, and nods. "You're not expendable," the young Galliard insists, quietly, thumbs hooking into his pockets. "And, I respect you, and, I'm sorry that I've been crap at showing it, and tetchy, and. Peace? As much as," Flint cracks a tiny, tentative smile, "can, with acknowledging that, we will get on each other's nerves sometimes, but. Yes, Salem-rhya's right. We, need to handle ourselves like adults. Not. Throwing pie and computers and nit-picking when. We're already angry."
Devon's brows lift slightly, as though surprised at the response. He doesn't say anything, though, nodding his agreement instead.
Flint glances back down to the floor, after he's said his piece. Which, for Flint, was lot of words in a row. It seems, though, that Flint's equally surprised by Devon's initial statement, and then he draws in another deep breath. "And, I. Thank you, for. For what you've given. I…" it seems that Flint doesn't know what to say, about that, overall, and he bites his lower lip.
"I'll have my clothing removed within the hour," Devon fills in after giving the Galliard a minute pause. "If you find anything wrong with the laptop, send me a text and I'll make time to fix it."
A nod, and Flint chews on his lip again. "There's. No rush, or anything, Devon," he insists. "And, if there's anything I can, can do, let me know, too, alright?" That faint, tentative smile returns. "I'd like to offer something, equal of. Value, for my side of the street in this, but." Uncertainty tinges his voice, a bit, and he continues. "So. Maybe, when, the moon's smaller again, I could. Teach you the Rite that Stacey-rhya's teaching me, or something?"
"No need to trade in anything, Flint," Devon says, shaking his head. "I'm giving you this as Contrition, because I believe I have done something wrong to you and the rest of the tribe. I don't believe there is anything for me to challenge you for, however I will accept if you feel my honor is still in question."
Flint bites his lip, and just nods. "Alright," he says, quietly. "I'm. Just saying that it's been my fault a lot, too. And, no. Nor is there anything for me to challenge you, for." Flint looks down at his feet and rocks on his heels. "So, thank you." Then, Flint's silent.
Devon nods after letting the silence hang for a couple of minutes, gaze still resting on Flint. "I'll speak with Salem soon. I'm going to send him an email so he's aware that I need to meet with him, then clean out my clothes." He turns from the Galliard and heads for the stairs, hands pushing deeply into his pockets.
Flint just nods, turning for the door out. "I'm a go for a run, and such. I've got my phone, if. I'm needed." He pauses, watching Devon for a moment, before heading towards the door and out.
1 April, 2012
The moon is in the waxing Gibbous (Galliard) Moon phase (69% full).
Flint enters the lobby from the stairwell, sketchbook in hand, jacket on, hat on. It looks like Flint's headed to go out, though he meanders slowly, humming ever so softly to himself as he walks.
Devon is coming up the stairs from the basement about that time, outdoor clothing shed some time ago and thus typical t-shirt and jeans worn. His face is a mask of neutrality, nothing displayed upon it, and his eyes watch the floor more than where he's going.
Flint quiets when he spies the Ahroun, humming abruptly ceasing. "Hey," he says, with a nod of greeting. "About this morning, I'm sorry I. Snapped and yelled at you." Lips pull into a tight line, and Flint glances sideways towards the other cliath.
Devon looks up when Flint speaks, still nothing expressed in his features. "Thanks," Devon answers after a brief pause. "Salem's right, though. Whatever bad blood is between us needs to be dealt with. And I'm not sure what I ever did wrong, to you or anyone else in the tribe, to warrant constantly feeling like nothing I do is ever going to be good enough and that I'm merely expendable. But I'd like to offer you Contrition for my wrongs, known and unknown, my room and my laptop are yours. Any repairs that need to be done, I will do."
Flint glances to meet Devon's gaze, and nods. "You're not expendable," the young Galliard insists, quietly, thumbs hooking into his pockets. "And, I respect you, and, I'm sorry that I've been crap at showing it, and tetchy, and. Peace? As much as," Flint cracks a tiny, tentative smile, "can, with acknowledging that, we will get on each other's nerves sometimes, but. Yes, Salem-rhya's right. We, need to handle ourselves like adults. Not. Throwing pie and computers and nit-picking when. We're already angry."
Devon's brows lift slightly, as though surprised at the response. He doesn't say anything, though, nodding his agreement instead.
Flint glances back down to the floor, after he's said his piece. Which, for Flint, was lot of words in a row. It seems, though, that Flint's equally surprised by Devon's initial statement, and then he draws in another deep breath. "And, I. Thank you, for. For what you've given. I…" it seems that Flint doesn't know what to say, about that, overall, and he bites his lower lip.
"I'll have my clothing removed within the hour," Devon fills in after giving the Galliard a minute pause. "If you find anything wrong with the laptop, send me a text and I'll make time to fix it."
A nod, and Flint chews on his lip again. "There's. No rush, or anything, Devon," he insists. "And, if there's anything I can, can do, let me know, too, alright?" That faint, tentative smile returns. "I'd like to offer something, equal of. Value, for my side of the street in this, but." Uncertainty tinges his voice, a bit, and he continues. "So. Maybe, when, the moon's smaller again, I could. Teach you the Rite that Stacey-rhya's teaching me, or something?"
"No need to trade in anything, Flint," Devon says, shaking his head. "I'm giving you this as Contrition, because I believe I have done something wrong to you and the rest of the tribe. I don't believe there is anything for me to challenge you for, however I will accept if you feel my honor is still in question."
Flint bites his lip, and just nods. "Alright," he says, quietly. "I'm. Just saying that it's been my fault a lot, too. And, no. Nor is there anything for me to challenge you, for." Flint looks down at his feet and rocks on his heels. "So, thank you." Then, Flint's silent.
Devon nods after letting the silence hang for a couple of minutes, gaze still resting on Flint. "I'll speak with Salem soon. I'm going to send him an email so he's aware that I need to meet with him, then clean out my clothes." He turns from the Galliard and heads for the stairs, hands pushing deeply into his pockets.
Flint just nods, turning for the door out. "I'm a go for a run, and such. I've got my phone, if. I'm needed." He pauses, watching Devon for a moment, before heading towards the door and out.