Everything is complicated; if that were not so, life and poetry and everything else would be a bore.
--Wallace Stevens


"I owe you an apology." Chryrie?s lips twitched downward as she gave Alysia a sidelong look.

"Don't be so sure of that," Alysia remarked gently. She was of the mind that Chryrie, like most of her kin, could do not wrong, or at least that any wrongs could be excused. For a moment, her eyes flickered toward the sound of a raised voice, then she looked back at the fae. "I'll humor you, though. What would you need to apologize for?"

Chryrie peered into her glass. "I struck your mate... I apologized to him. It was... done in haste."

Alysia held a cup of green tea close to her face to hide her confusion. My mate....? The priestess took a sip of tea, then started adding things to it, calmly. Steam, redolent with bloodspice, drifted up and evaporated in silence. Eventually, she worked her way through Chryrie's implications and said, "You struck. . . Lucien?"

"Yes," Chryrie answered with a grimace. The glum expression seemed out of place on her features, indicating a temperament more suited to her moredhel side than the fae.

Aware of her kin?s discomfort, Alysia seized upon a technicality to distract the brooding fae, pointing out, "Chryrie. We have an agreement of sorts, but he's not my mate. . ." She swirled the contents of her mug, thoughtfully.

Chryrie?s brow was furrowed now in obvious confusion. "Then why didn't he-" She trailed off as Alysia interrupted.

"If you're going to hit someone, better to do it in haste," said Alysia. Her alabaster-pale elfin features darkened with a frown. For the moment, she seemed more concerned that Chryrie had whacked someone friendly, than the fact that it was her on-again, off-again fiancee who?d been slapped. After all if it had been of consequence, surely he?d have mentioned it to her. "Why did you hit him? Or ... did it just seem like a good idea at the time?"

"Oh.. it was just... He kissed me on the cheek and I flipped out. Had it been anyone other than him, I probably wouldn't have stopped after one slap," Chryrie admitted before she took a sip of ichor.

"That's what he deserves, for kissing someone other than me!" Amused, Alysia laughed shortly, then sobered somewhat with a dour smile. "He does play with fire. Still. For you -- I'm not so sure that's normal. For me, it would be."

Chryrie?s lips twisted to the side in a crooked smile. "My fuse is shorter these days, I guess."

"He'll be more cautious next time, I expect." Alysia tasted some more of the tea, savoring the bite of it. "I do wonder why your temper would be shorter." She left that statement open with an unspoken question.

"I think I need a vacation from this town," said Chryrie. She darted a glance around, then looked to Alysia more directly, attempting to redirect the conversation. "I called him your mate in front of him and he didn't correct me. I wonder why that is."

"We've been together a long time. He is very dear to me." Alysia shrugged eloquently, a dry smile curving the corners of her mouth. She was aware of Chryrie?s sneaky efforts to change the focus of the conversation and stubbornly stepped around the attempt. Her next words, while direct, were still tentative and cautious. Wary of that shorter fuse, "And you are very dear to me, Chryrie, as well. Will you tell me what troubles you?"

So much for that. Chryrie acknowledged that the priestess knew her too well. Her brow creased as she looked into her glass again. "It's complicated," she temporized.

"Often we make things so much more complicated than they truly are," mused the priestess. "Or at least I do." Alysia had caught the vaguest empathic hints, flashes of native anger that seemed familiar from the morass of her own crowded mind. And she found herself at a loss at how to respond.

?Something's occurred to me, Alysia,? Chryrie said. ?When I became kin to you, you gave a bit of yourself... but I didn't really give back. That doesn't seem fair. We should correct that.?

And it was true. When she became one of the Skye, she gained access to the shadow magic, but it was a bond placed into her. The Priestess gained nothing in return except another friend and family member who would die to protect her. It was something that had bothered the fae before, but only recently had she realized it would most likely benefit them both to fix the oversight.

?In your present frame of mind, would that be wise?? Alysia asked bluntly.

?What's wrong with my frame of mind?? Chryrie blinked ingenuously. She knew she was feeling a bit short tempered, but she didn't see anything wrong with the way she was behaving lately. Even if everyone else might.

?Short fuse.? Alysia explained tersely. ?Rather like me.? A strange expression colored her features for a moment as she considered those words. She?d been assuming that Chryrie?s flares of rage were moredhel born - but what if that temper was demonspawned, carried through a bloodbond? She frowned, feeling a moment of anxiety.

Chryrie shrugged. ?Could you imagine if it were otherwise and attempting to lengthen yours? That would be a chaotic mess.?

?I've tried. It is a chaotic mess.? Alysia agreed. She laughed shortly and subsided. She thought of Lucien turning away, of the looks Sylvia and Hudson wore upon their faces. ?I should apologize to him. . . to them.?

?Never apologize for being yourself, remember?? Chryrie turned the Priestess' words back against her.

?You're right.? Alysia gritted her teeth and smiled sweetly, seething inwardly. She found having her own words used against her infuriating and suspected that Chryrie knew it. She nodded, affecting a mocking, smug expression. ?I will be damned if I will apologize for being a monopolizing, jealous, possessive bitch.?

?And to hell with those who can't handle it,? Chryrie added on with a chuckle.

?To Hell indeed,? retorted Alysia.

?You know, that's not such a bad place once you got use to the screaming,? Chryrie mused. The memory of her time in the Underworlds were distant, but far from faded.

Alysia groaned, covering her face with her hands. Realizing that several still stood within hearing distance, that indeed she?d put on a shameful display, lashing out and behaving like a spoiled child, she winced inwardly. ?Oh, I'm so bloody confused. You're not the only one in need of a holiday, Chryrie.?