Miscommunication

Writers: Chelle, Cymiri
Date Posted: 30th November 2012

Characters: Chupsin, Daimhin
Description: Daimhin checks in on the healer
Location: Amber Hills Hold
Date: month 11, day 2 of Turn 6

Daimhin hesitated as he raised a hand to knock, struck by the sadness
at having to knock at *this* door, and not the married quarters that
had been Chupsin's until so recently.

Then he shook himself and rapped hard on the door, harder than
strictly necessary.

It took a bit of time but turns of being woken up at all candlemarks of
the night had taken their toll on the healer so he answered the door,
dressed and ready. "Aye?"

"Save the 'Ayes' for the captain, my man." He tried for light, though it
wasn't entirely successful. "I'm off duty. And so thought I would introduce
you to a little friend of mine..." With which he revealed what he hoped would
prove his kind intentions, if not turn out to be much of a good idea. "Some of
their best, or so the vintners tell me."

Chupsin's body relaxed since he knew now that he wouldn't be required to
try to staunch bleeding or some other problem. And then his eyes lit
on the alcohol.
He had his own sources for that, but he would never turn away anything good
so Daimhin was more than welcome. "Come in then and we'll see if that's true."

Unconsciously, Daimhin relaxed a little. Hurdle one passed. Several
more to go, of course. Not to mention he hadn't *particularly* missed
the eagerness in those eyes. All the same, he kept up the jolly banter
while sourcing a set of glasses to go with the bottle, and sloshed some
in with less care than was particularly sensible.

He was very good about not asking how the man felt or if he was ok.
Dumb questions. Instead, he settled for:

"Straight up, or should I find a pretty drudge to bother for something to eat?"

A quick flick up and down the man suggested he hadn't been doing that
quite as much as he should have.

"Straight is fine," Chupsin answered before taking a seat on the sofa
and stretching out. Now that he didn't have to go out, he felt himself relaxing
again. He wouldn't be able to drink too much in case he did have to go
perform his duties, but a little bit wouldn't hurt.

Eyes flickered again, but his voice was companionable when he spoke.
"Can't say I can say the same."

And he did what he'd mentioned all the same, rather hoping the
tempting smell from the little platter that resulted might work on his
friend after a while as he slid it to the middle of the table between
them and settled down himself, taking one of the meatrolls for
himself.

Eventually, he asked the least tactful question in the world as
tactfully as he could think to phrase it. "Hanging in there a bit, Chupsin?
I see you are on the call register tonight?"

Chupsin frowned slightly, pushing down the answers that immediately came
to mind. He realized the man only wanted to help. It was Daimhin-they knew
each other well. The man couldn't help it if he was simple sometimes. Sighing,
the healer gave the only answer he could. "I still plan to make Master so I have
to work. I need to work."

Chupsin was rather lucky Daimhin didn't have the luxury of knowledge
of *all* his thoughts, or he would have earned a slap, grieving or
not. As it was,
the answer was far gentler. "Work helps. I found great comfort in
in....after what
happened at home." No need to elaborate that more. "Communication does, too,
you know. Sometimes. You've been very quiet, Chupsin. So quiet I wonder when the
screaming is due to start."

"Why should I scream and make a scene to embarrass what I have left of
my family?" he answered quickly. For the healer, his entire life had been about
control. Anyone who knew him well would know that. Chupsin would not
act out, especially
not now when his career would be in jeopardy. He needed that control
to keep him sane.

Daimhin sighed, fighting the urge to scream himself. "Shards, you are a literal
man, healer." He was still gentle with it. His sentimental heart bled
for the man.
And Daimhin knew about Chupsin's control, oh yes. Which did not mean
he approved.

"In the interest of such literality, let me rephrase... I know you,
Chupsin. Believe it or not, I count that a privilege. And I know how
you value your craft and your control. I know how much you want to
hang onto both, and why, even now- especially now. So give me- for all
I am not a smart young crafter like yourself- the benefit of some
doubt and heed this....no man is infallible. Even one as driven as
you. Even one with as much reason to be driven as you have. There is a
reason smiths give teapots a spout. Don't let fear of making a little
hole in those defenses end up blowing the lid right off them at a time
you can't handle it."

"Ahhh you don't think I have an outlet.." He understood now. "Or you maybe
think I will drink myself into problems?" It was no secret that he visited Keayd
and that the two of them had an arrangement. Chupsin was grateful for the liquor
but also the friendship.

Daimhin's smile was slightly sarcastic. "Maybe a flavor of both? Venting over a
bottle will not make you feel better in the long run. Even if that
sounds rich coming
from me."

"Indeed." Chupsin had no intention of getting publically drunk, nor did he
ever wish to be an alcoholic. However, sometimes the drink dulled things so
he could forget. He could go back to how it was before. He wasn't left lying in
bed wondering why he had so much room and what the baby's face would have
looked like. "I appreciate your concern, Daimhin, but I have things in
hand. I am
not okay yet, but I am keeping busy. As time passes, I will be fine."

"As you wish." Daihmin managed to leave it at that, though there was more- much
more-he longed to say. But the healer would never listen. Chupsin was a good

man, and the guard would never deny that or the respect he had for him, but his
haughty nature was a stumbling stone at the best of times- and no one thought
these were they.

He rose, dusting off his pants.

"Since I don't think we've anything sensible left to say to each
other, I'll leave you
to it. Try and eat some of that, if you are wiling to take any advice
at all." He sighed
softly. There'd been no bite in his tone. "I'll see you around, I'm sure."

"That's guaranteed. Thanks for bringing it. Maybe someday I'll return
the favor."
Maybe he could get some from Sinla-her husband could get his hands on some good
stock sometimes. Swirling the drink around, he threw it back and then
continued to
sit on the couch. He was on call, yes.

Last updated on the December 10th 2012

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Miscommunication