Storm put another log into the fire, watching it slowly become consumed with flames before sitting back down on the couch again. After putting the children to bed, she had paced around the house until her anger left to be replaced with emptiness. If she had not expressed her opinions in the first place, then the tension would only exist within her. She smirked as that option was something she was beginning to refer to far too often.
The wounds were not lethal, and he had bartered twice over with Jordith about the healing of them. So it was, that his left shoulder was bound, his right hand bound, and the signs of a bruising along shins and ribs to be discovered only in the touching and the slight hitch of his walk. His countenance, however, was dark. He opened the door with silence, much expecting his wife to be asleep, but a tell tale glow from the sitting room revealed otherwise. He stood there at the entry of that room and just looked at her, afraid of what his first words would be and so did not allow them to pass from his lips.
She glanced over to him as she heard him open the door, a frown starting to form as she heard the hitch is the rhythm of his footsteps. Usually after his walks, his mood was at least calmer, if not better, and to just feel the darkness in his expression raised her concern, "Ewan?"
He walked closer, but kept distance between them. His breath he measured slow breaths by thought not instinct. "Storm, did you move my glass after I left?" It was the heart of the matter, and he might as well get to it.
She felt like shrinking far into the corner of the couch, and hated it, "Yes, I put it in the sink so that someone else did not have to clean it up."
He licked his bottom lip to keep from spitting out the venomous words that danced on the edge of his tongue. The edge, however, was still in his tone. "It would be best that you did not do such things. I thought you understood I communicate often through signs and signals, but perhaps I did not make that clear enough." It was a thunder in his belly aching to set free lightning, and it filled the air, even he could feel he was not as calm as he should be, but at least the cage was not rattling.
"I understand that very well, but how I am I to guess which action is and is not a signal? Ewan, what happened?" The tension in the air was unmistakable, and the unusual nature of his expression brought a sinking feeling to her middle.
"I was unexpected, instead of expected. The watch of the inn said my glass was moved from the post, and they trusted the mover to know my whereabouts." He spoke like at a tribunal, facts only and then went to the hallway to hang up his cloak and take off his boots.
"I fear I am short yet another shirt as this one is done in." He was still angry but fighting the anger as much as anything else. When he returned it was evident the shirt arms were in disarray, one cut completely away to reveal the binding to his upper arm. The leather vest showed evidence of abuse, but no cuts. "If I insist not to hand you something, there is good reason. Shall I tell you all my signals and signs, would that make you trust me more? Or are you determined to stay within your own sensibilities?"
Her face paled almost instantly at his news, the sinking feeling now filled with guilt and for a few moments, it overran all of her senses. She closed her eyes as he left and wanted to keep them closed, but she forced them to open again when she heard him return. Her eyes followed the bandages, and her face was full of horror, "By the Goddess, Ewan, I did not know." She stood, trying to inspect his injuries further, "I did not know, you know I would have not done such a thing if I knew. I thought that perhaps you were just being stubborn, or..." she trailed off her next accusation of being spiteful was just what she had done. She had done exactly what he had asked her not because she had anticipated that he would be spiteful just as she had been.
His brows rose as she trailed off. He could tell she did not want to admit to the real reason of what she had done. "It is done, and now you know. At least that knowing did not come at the cost of my life. We shall thank your Goddess for that small favor." His smile was tight, but then dropped into a more sober conclusion. He was still angry -- he still hurt, but he was not going to let it win him over, because most of all, he knew she had honestly not known. "Storm, our disagreements are just that. Disagreements. I would never do anything to make them worse. We have enough to overcome as it is without adding spiteful actions to the mix."
The mentioning of her careless mistake possibly taking his life blurred her vision with tears and she bowed her head, "I am so sorry. This is my fault." She sniffled, knowing that there was nothing but herself to blame, "I was just upset, and my spiteful actions did this to you."
"Why, Storm?" It was that most of all. "We come from different lands, and so our people have different ways of doing things, does that mean we must punish each other for the customs of our people?"
"No, it does not." She could not bring herself to look up at him, "I was not trying to punish you in any way. I share only my deepest thoughts with you, but I have crossed a line with this. I'm sorry."
The wounds were not lethal, and he had bartered twice over with Jordith about the healing of them. So it was, that his left shoulder was bound, his right hand bound, and the signs of a bruising along shins and ribs to be discovered only in the touching and the slight hitch of his walk. His countenance, however, was dark. He opened the door with silence, much expecting his wife to be asleep, but a tell tale glow from the sitting room revealed otherwise. He stood there at the entry of that room and just looked at her, afraid of what his first words would be and so did not allow them to pass from his lips.
She glanced over to him as she heard him open the door, a frown starting to form as she heard the hitch is the rhythm of his footsteps. Usually after his walks, his mood was at least calmer, if not better, and to just feel the darkness in his expression raised her concern, "Ewan?"
He walked closer, but kept distance between them. His breath he measured slow breaths by thought not instinct. "Storm, did you move my glass after I left?" It was the heart of the matter, and he might as well get to it.
She felt like shrinking far into the corner of the couch, and hated it, "Yes, I put it in the sink so that someone else did not have to clean it up."
He licked his bottom lip to keep from spitting out the venomous words that danced on the edge of his tongue. The edge, however, was still in his tone. "It would be best that you did not do such things. I thought you understood I communicate often through signs and signals, but perhaps I did not make that clear enough." It was a thunder in his belly aching to set free lightning, and it filled the air, even he could feel he was not as calm as he should be, but at least the cage was not rattling.
"I understand that very well, but how I am I to guess which action is and is not a signal? Ewan, what happened?" The tension in the air was unmistakable, and the unusual nature of his expression brought a sinking feeling to her middle.
"I was unexpected, instead of expected. The watch of the inn said my glass was moved from the post, and they trusted the mover to know my whereabouts." He spoke like at a tribunal, facts only and then went to the hallway to hang up his cloak and take off his boots.
"I fear I am short yet another shirt as this one is done in." He was still angry but fighting the anger as much as anything else. When he returned it was evident the shirt arms were in disarray, one cut completely away to reveal the binding to his upper arm. The leather vest showed evidence of abuse, but no cuts. "If I insist not to hand you something, there is good reason. Shall I tell you all my signals and signs, would that make you trust me more? Or are you determined to stay within your own sensibilities?"
Her face paled almost instantly at his news, the sinking feeling now filled with guilt and for a few moments, it overran all of her senses. She closed her eyes as he left and wanted to keep them closed, but she forced them to open again when she heard him return. Her eyes followed the bandages, and her face was full of horror, "By the Goddess, Ewan, I did not know." She stood, trying to inspect his injuries further, "I did not know, you know I would have not done such a thing if I knew. I thought that perhaps you were just being stubborn, or..." she trailed off her next accusation of being spiteful was just what she had done. She had done exactly what he had asked her not because she had anticipated that he would be spiteful just as she had been.
His brows rose as she trailed off. He could tell she did not want to admit to the real reason of what she had done. "It is done, and now you know. At least that knowing did not come at the cost of my life. We shall thank your Goddess for that small favor." His smile was tight, but then dropped into a more sober conclusion. He was still angry -- he still hurt, but he was not going to let it win him over, because most of all, he knew she had honestly not known. "Storm, our disagreements are just that. Disagreements. I would never do anything to make them worse. We have enough to overcome as it is without adding spiteful actions to the mix."
The mentioning of her careless mistake possibly taking his life blurred her vision with tears and she bowed her head, "I am so sorry. This is my fault." She sniffled, knowing that there was nothing but herself to blame, "I was just upset, and my spiteful actions did this to you."
"Why, Storm?" It was that most of all. "We come from different lands, and so our people have different ways of doing things, does that mean we must punish each other for the customs of our people?"
"No, it does not." She could not bring herself to look up at him, "I was not trying to punish you in any way. I share only my deepest thoughts with you, but I have crossed a line with this. I'm sorry."