Tea With The Enemy (3/30)

And with common ground to agree on, Roland's gaze flickers elsewhere to study the inner workings of the chambers- taking note of nothing in particular as he eventually offers a singular nod, tilting his head back upward to take another swig of the forbidden juice. "She was nice, in her own way." - he offers, the surprising amount of emotion in the form of stifled regret pouring through as he eventually readjusts in his seat to get properly acclimated with Isegrádian furniture, mildly adjusting it off to the side to allow him to face the Regent just a bit better, leaving a leg to cross over the other.

"You know." -- he starts, leaving him to stare at the specks of blue throughout the liquid in his cup, "I try not to think too much about the past tense, even while I don't forget, it's better to look toward a future where it's better than what we started out with."

"...Shit." - he snorts, a smile starting to grow larger across his face. "Xi knows I would've been nothing more than what my father became if I continued to hold grudges against people. I'm just really relieved that I'm not the only one that's putting in the effort." -- and with that, his gaze rises back up to lock with Dura's, taking another small sip-- although, almost purposefully drawing it out to accentuate the SLLLLLRRRRP.

"--do you want to hear something funny?"
(Roland Evermore)
[01:16:04]
"In her own way." She echoes the sentiment. This time with a more genuine, stifled scoff. "I still remember she almost puked laughing when the horns grew in. And every time I ever got shot." How many times has she been shot now? Can she still count that high?

When did her life cease being physical abuse and turn into paperwork and red tape? What the fuck?

"I'm trying. If either of us were our forebears. I don't think we'd be having this conversation. I'm sure at least half of them are screaming from the afterlife right now." The thought is half sobering, half amusing.

She slouches back in her chair, her sips far smaller and reserved than whatever hoovering Roland is going over there.

"Part of me wants to say 'no'. But go ahead."
(Dura Levante)
[01:22:03]
...The retellings of the late DeLisle's actions earn a mild snort out of the Evermore himself as he eventually halts his sipping, setting the cup down unto the table with a thuk as he comes to prepare both arms for what might essentially just be a shitpost- one elbow propped on the table whilst the other settles on the backrest as his fingers intertwine- claws resting along Roland's knuckles as he clears his throat, "...On the basis you keep it to yourself." - he starts, that dumb, if joyous and whimsical smile over his demonic mug widening in anticipation as he allows for the dramatical pause to ensue, and-

"Were you aware that Johan had a crush on Elizabeth?" - he asks, plain and simple.
[vine boom?]

"...Or still does, I'm unsure."
(Roland Evermore)
[01:31:03]
Sure, that bitch used to continually delight in her suffering - really, she still did. Recounting it still has a certain nearly pleasant nostalgia to it.

As soon as the grin spreads his lips she looks wary. The encouragement to secrecy beforehand, along with that pause, also do him no favors.

Her face goes completely flat. She blinks. Once more does her brow do that little cycle of furrowing and unfurrowing as her brain returns to more careful and calculated thought.

Processing. . .Loading. . .Analyzing. . . .

"...Ah. No. No. I was not aware. Huh."

Dura brings up the mug, takes a sip from it. It does her the favor of further muffling a few muttered words that are joined by a sigh.
(Dura Levante)
[01:37:00]
"...Then again, it's nothing more than just meaningless gossip." -- he eventually breaks up the silence, just to help Dura process the information or move along from such a horrifying topic, "Johan has a crush for anyone with a mound over their chest and the capacity to hold a conversation with him, last I've checked."

"--No offense, of course." ...eyeroll. "He's still a great person, just... Desperate? I'm not sure if that's the correct word for it, but you get my meaning." - he muses, reaching over to procure his trusty mug once more to take one final sip from that tough concoction- and refocusing his attention back unto Dura, "...I trust you have something equally as funny that you'd share with me?"

He hopes, atleast. He ran out of tea.
(Roland Evermore)
[01:37:00] OOC - Sunhawk: yeah
[01:41:05]
"He-"

Oh man, how does she word this? Dura carefully selects her reply from the catalogue.

"He's got his heart in the right place," she says with a sigh. "But yes. His affections are often painfully misguided. I'll be honest. Personally? Not a big fan of Elizabeth." She grimaces and runs her tongue over her teeth. Not that it's going to get the taste of chifir out. That's the kind of flavor that haunts you. Perhaps part of Roland's ploy.

"In the spirit of sharing? Why not.

Johan actually once suggested an arranged marriage with me. It was refused."
(Dura Levante)
[01:47:24]
Perhaps it was...

Even so, as Dura does her bestest to avoid using incorrect words to describe the young ursine properly, so does Roland's attention reach its utmost as Elizabeth is pulled out, once more. And so- "Oh, I assumed. It's a surprise you're inclined to interact with me, given the fact we're siblings.

--but, she does lament, sometimes, curious as to the why of it a-"

Arranged marriage.
[vine boom] [vine boom] [vine boom] [vine boom] [vine boom] [vine boom] [vine boom]

Roland's own expression dulls into a deadpan stare for all but a few seconds until he decides to blink - probably the first time in a hot second and absolutely emphasized upon as it's dragged out into an agonizingly slow pace, just enough for him to internalize the sentence.

With utmost insight, the wisdom that leaves his lips is nothing short of peak. "Huh."
(Roland Evermore)
[01:53:09]
Like the Ghost of Christmas past, the flavor of the dark tea does haunt her. It may even haunt her long after the Pillar has left.

"Oh, well. I have an easy answer for that. She was an active part of Deliverance's propaganda machine during the entirety of the war.

I loathe propaganda."

Then the succession of dreaded vine booms. Dura turns just a little in her chair to eye Roland over her mug. Another small sip. Too big of one and she might actually make herself ill, but she's committed to actually finishing the tea.

"Yes. A real knee-slapper." It's delivered with her own practiced and properly curated deadpan. She even adds in a theatrical, literal knee slap.

Cue the laugh track, even if she herself isn't laughing.
(Dura Levante)