What a fascinating pair the two of them make: agitator and agitatee. Perhaps a common trope, but one so entertaining it keeps them on bated breath. That’s how Adrius feels: on the edge of his seat, holding his breath, wondering if Maurtia might drag another burst of angry energy from him. In a way, such interactions are addicting. He finds release for the anger he represses and a quick reprieve from the monotony of such a rigid culture.
Deep down, in the moving parts of Adrius that he ignores, his tension relaxes just enough to feel acceptance. To know he likes this prodding. To think he might stick around to see just how Maurtia might pick away at him, perhaps until there’s nothing left to hide. Until only anger and betrayal remains.
Adrius shakes his head. No distractions, like mother taught him in all social interactions and father in their livelihood. No distractions. Even if he likes them.
“No,” he snaps back through gritted teeth, roiling eyes boring holes into the stranger. His mother would never have stood for sisters. She hardly had the patience to raise a well-behaved boy, much less teach the intricacies of social interactions for women. Strong women are valued in the Baltian society. Adrius can hardly imagine the pressure his mother would have put on any imaginary sister.
Maurtia’s next words make every muscle in Adrius’ body tense. He doesn’t breathe, doesn’t swallow, doesn’t even blink or twitch. He stares at the dark woman but doesn’t see, instead seeing every possibility that stretches before him. Every instinct he has tells him to acquiesce, to quietly dismiss himself and learn the lay of the land on his own. The rage that constantly spins in his chest now deals the damage of a tornado, spinning and spitting every spiteful thought he’s ever had. The wildest part of him thinks he can snap back but admit acceptance, accept Maurtia’s assistance while swallowing his pride.
“You . . .” he says sharply, but finds he cannot even get past a sentence. Adrius sighs, suddenly and viciously tired.
“Fine.”
Adrius lifts head once again, looking Maurtia over critically.
“Will you show me around? And we can . . . answer each other’s questions?”
@Maurtia