ITL 27

[blondiechic0]

Talin curled his hands into fists under the table to keep from reaching out as Hitari walked away.  No matter how he’d tried to harden himself against Hitari, he couldn’t shut down this pain, and it swelled in his own chest the way he knew that it burned in Hitari’s.

            “If you don’t want to be like him,” Selorin said as Hitari neared the door, “tell the truth.”

            He couldn’t hold it back; the word “don’t” slipped past his control, short and harsh.  He was unable to refuse his old impulse to protect Hitari, and he hated himself for that.  Talin was furious with Selorin for pushing, furious with himself for even beginning this.  What had been the point of this dinner?  To prove to himself that all of Hitari’s words were lies?  To humiliate Hitari, to punish?  He’d done that, he’d done that thoroughly, but he’d humiliated himself, too, exposing all of Hitari’s affection as a sham, exposing himself as a fool.

            His back to the room, Hitari lowered his head.  “I loved you,” he said, “the only way I knew how.”  He put his hand on the doorknob.  “I still do,” he said, and left.

            Unmoving outside, recoiling inside, Talin breathed through the trauma as his heart was ripped from his chest.  He hadn’t deserved that, that final lie, that final shot, but he couldn’t be surprised by it.  That was one of Hitari’s gifts, after all, knowing just what to say to hurt him the most.

            Needing to be alone, not wanting Selorin’s sympathy, exposed and humiliated and, now, shattered, Talin stood.  He couldn’t meet Selorin’s eyes - - he wasn’t going to accept pity, not now, not ever, not for this.

            “Talin,” Selorin said quietly.

            He had to leave the room; Hitari would be gone by now, the hallway would be safe for him to-

            “He was telling the truth.”

            Talin didn’t have enough self-control left in him to disguise that recoil; he jerked away from the brutality of Selorin’s words, staggering under the blow.

            “He loves you,” Selorin’s voice said, somewhere in the blur before Talin’s unseeing eyes.

            No.  It wasn’t true, it was a lie, a lie, a lie like the rest, a lie like all of the others, a lie like the soft words and the lovesex and the smiles and that treacherous beauty.  He wasn’t going to fall for that again; he wasn’t going to believe in it this time.

            “He doesn’t know how to show love, he doesn’t know how to express it, he doesn’t know how to nurture it, he barely knows how to feel it,” Selorin said.  “But, as much as Hitari can love anyone, he loves you.”

[CourtneyLee]

Poor Remin. Desin is such a hard taskmaster.

“These rustic witticisms you pick up from country farmers are quaint,” Remin snapped, which amused Kudorin, because no one spoke in more similes and metaphors than Anoremin A Hiti, “but please take time away from them to explain to me why you would enforce upon a, as you say, starved cat enough manual labor to kill a horse?!”

            Desin grinned.  “You don’t look dead to me.”

            “Only through the grace of Inanodu, whom I could feel bargaining with Oranomi for the right to me all cursed day!”

            “You do look kind of mad, though,” Desin observed, as though Remin hadn’t spoken.  “Are you angry about something?”

            “Why do you do these things to me?” Remin demanded.  “Why?!  Men with plots against my life wish me less harm than my own brother!  I’ve been a good brother to you, I’ve cared for you, I’ve advised you, I’ve provided a fine example on how to serve the gods and lead the people and satisfy your partners, and this is what you do to me?  Dirt and mud and swine and humiliation and now this hideous, slow assassination?  All I ask,” Remin insisted, drawing himself up to his full height from the minor slump his weary body had betrayed him into, “all I want from my life, is to be left alone to serve the gods and help the people.  All I ask-”

            “That’s why,” Desin said.  “I’m not going to let you hide, Remin.”

            Remin stiffened.  “I,” he said coldly, “do not hide, Ebutadesin.”

            Another snort.  “Of course you do.”

            “Of course I do!” Remin exclaimed.  “Have you ever tried to be pious every day for three years?  I need structure, Desin, I need simplicity, I need my comfortable little safe haven.  When a woman stares at your ass, you take her to bed.  When someone stares at my ass, I have to ignore whether he’s attractive, whether he’s available, whether I’m horny, and turn around and inquire into the state of his soul when, frankly, sometimes the state of his dick is a little more interesting.”

I love this part because right after, Desin spends the night with the sulatim. Heehee.

And when Anosanim needs a distraction...

“Oh, Orinakin, I’m sorry to interrupt,” Anosanim said, “but I’m absolutely clinging to my last nerve!”  Visibly noticing Bade, Anosanim fell back a step, eyes widening and then blinking a few times.  “Oh, my.”

            “You have perfect timing,” Orinakin said to Anosanim, as Bade crossed his arms over his chest and tried not to look completely embarrassed.

            “Perfect timing?” Anosanim asked, sounding flustered, apparently unable to keep his gaze off of Bade, who really would’ve appreciated a shirt and was never listening to Orinakin again.