"Five tons of wheat to the Kingdom of Roses, in exchange for as much attar of roses as that will get..."
     It drones from another office, and quietly, Tiernan rises from his desk to tiptoe over to the door leading to the west corridor and nudges it closed. There is still a door available on the other side; the window is open, letting in the raucous cry of gulls and the stiff smell of salt spray and rotting seaweed so archetypical of the docks.
     He is dressed simply today; tan breeches and a white shirt, a pair of sea-boots for clomping around on splintered planking or on board ships. His hair has been getting a little longer, shaggier, not quite woolly; it will want cutting soon.
     He has gained only a pound or two since his convalescence. He escapes looking sleek; if anything, he has a slightly reckless, rough-hewn look, almost Byronesque. And, as ever, he is utterly unaware of it.
     "A pound of sugar, a peck of salt, two pounds of flour," Tiernan murmurs to himself as he eases himself back into his seat behind the desk. "The eternal grocery list. Only multiply by five thousand, and the ships will set sail..."

     Outside, a stately figure pauses at the main door, hesitating entrance. He certainly looks out of place on these docks, with his silks (they have a pearly iridescence) the color of an ocean's underbelly as waves roll in pipelines to the shore. The shirt only ties to fasten, creating a loose, billowing silhouette, and the trousers are likewise loose, allowing the skin to breathe in the ocean breezes, before tucking into boots made from mother of pearl. Cerulean hair falls in waves to his shoulders, capped by seafoam strands -- the waves of the sea quite literally -- and seek to shade his Aegean eyes.
     He is like nothing and no one here...
     Finding his resolve, Agapios reaches out and turns the knob of the door to enter the shipping company's main floor. The entrance brings the office to a halt. That he is noble is quite an easy assumption to make. That he is out of place -- perhaps he is lost -- is without doubt. "Is Master Tiernan available," Agapios wonders, pivoting to look at all the people staring back at him. A cerulean colored eyebrow lifts in humor.
     "I hope I haven't come at a bad time. Could you let him know that Agapios of Oannes is here and would like to speak with him?"
     There's a general pause, but finally one of the staff rises and heads upstairs to knock upon the boss' door. "Sir? Sir, there is someone here to see you..."

     Someone to see me? But I have no appointments...
     Not that I would not welcome distraction from Old Inarres next door, stating aloud every inventory list. I shouldn't have given him that office to use. This must be why offices reorganize; to put droners in their own corners where they cannot send everyone else into somnolescent slumber!
     "Of course. Send him in."
     There was never any real question. If someone wishes to see him, then Tiernan will usually make it possible. He stands up behind his desk, dark eyebrows lifted in inquiry. "Have tea brought, hm? If someone wishes to speak with me, it's business as usual."
     If only because he does not yet know who it is wishing to see him. There is very little about you which is 'business as usual'. But - he does not know...

     Johnson -- the knocker -- looks to the guest and then gestures up as he steps downstairs. "Go on up, sir." He continues to a small burner to put a kettle on.
     Nodding his thanks, Agapios climbs the wooden staircase to the management offices. He hesitates only a half second before opening the door. "I hope this is no intrusion," he speaks quietly, turning to close the door behind him.
     You have been away months. You have not spoken since the King returned to escort you to the Islands of the Crescent Moon, the High King's most royal home. There has been no contact. There was not even a goodbye. He seems older. He isn't, but these last few months have been filled with business and the wisdom that can only come from heartache. "I won't keep you, but I was hoping we might talk a moment."
     Agapios is as polished as you are rough-hewn. It is as if you were the exterior of an abalone's shell, and he the silvery interior. "May I sit?" he wonders, gesturing to one of your chairs.

     It is you. Of all people he expected, it wasn't you, and the astonishment and acknowledgment flare in his eyes. But there is less awkwardness than you might have expected. "Yes, of course. Please. You are welcome here."
     He is up and around the desk, guiding you to a seat. "Not that one, I keep telling them it needs replacing - here, sit here."
     And then he is backing away. He has not touched you - but he has looked at you. How much do those blue eyes see? It is an acute look, to be sure...
     Tiernan settles against the edge of the desk, and he looks at you for a long moment. "I am sorry," he murmurs finally. "I am, of course, here to listen. With," his mouth quirks slightly, "my guilt already in place. Please. Speak."

     The word Guilt touches off a smile of honest humor. "We have not had the chance to speak since our adventure," Agapios says a moment after sitting. "I wanted to ...apologize to you, if anything I said or did upset you in any way." Seafoam green eyes look to you for a moment. "I am a very emotional creature," Agapios says after another moment. "And from time to time that has clouded my judgement."
     "I do not like that we have not remained friends. And if there is guilt to go around, we share that equally, Tiernan." His hands fold against his silk. He looks down at those slender fingers, those that have held you, beguiled and bewitched you. "You look like you are doing well," he offers, looking to you levelly. His eyes soak you in in an instant. "And I am glad to see that. I worried about you." He nods in thought and memory. "I was tremendously worried."
     He has not touched you. In fact, his gaze locks only on your face; it does not wander. It is a respectful distance, but it is a distance all the same. A soft breath falls in a moment of quiet between you.
     "I did not express myself very well around you. And I feel I squandered my time with you. I did not make the most of the moment. I did not obey my own philosophy." The siren sighs. "I fell in love with you. Instead of admitting it and letting myself feel the heartache of your denial, I tried to," his mouth twists into a smile, "... lure you into the deep waters of my heart, in the hopes that once you were there you would not wish to leave. I was very foolish. I have learned that. That is what I learned about myself on your journey to find yourself."

     Why is it that regret always has so bitter a taste? But it does; rue, and hemlock, and bane...
     "I could tell your feelings." Tiernan gestures, and what at first looked like some of the decor slithers from around the base of a post; a jeweled snake. It slides to the door and into a hole next to the door. That door will now open for no man save perhaps the king himself.
     "I ... was disrespectful to them. I don't know, Agapios," Tiernan resumes, voice quiet. He lifts one hand, absently brushing his hair back from his forehead. "Maybe I thought as you did - that, eventually, I would feel as you did, and ease my own heartache that way. For me, my fear was in losing him." Him. Iowerth Rhudd Draig, the High King of all things. "I was not articulate. I was, to be frank, not articulate even to myself. But I couldn't give you what you wanted."

     "It was not fair for me to ask," he smiles a little. "You were not in a position to give. I knew that, and still I clung to your ankles like seaweed." Tipping his head back, he shakes it at himself. "It was so undignified of me. What you must have thought of me. I am not surprised you did not write." His mouth forms the slant of a smile as his eyes roll in their sockets.
     What a fool...
     "I belittled myself. And I took advantage of you. And I have come to say I am sorry, Tiernan. I ... will say also that I am sorry ...things did not work out. I enjoyed our partnership." The smile slackens like a rope turned loose. "I ... still care for you. And I always will. You will always be able to count on the support and alliance of Oannes. Always."
     Agapios looks to his folded hand. "I am returning to my home waters," he murmurs. "I have accepted my father's offer to join the ruling council. He would like me back home. And I feel ...now... that it is the right place for me. I do not feel that I would be the best representative to the king. We have a ... slight conflict of interest." That conflict would be you. "And so I have requested a replacement."
     He looks to you, those Aegean eyes sparkling, shimmering like treasure beneath the waves. His feelings for you are undiminished and unrequited. "I have come to say I'm sorry," he murmurs. "I love you. And goodbye."

     He is silent, looking at you; and there is emotion in his eyes, even if little allowed to travel to the rest of his face. "Love is seldom fair. I will not speak of might-have-beens. Those are even less fair."
     He has never wanted to be anything other than fair to you; even now, that is true. He folds his arms over his chest, as if to defend himself from strong emotion, strong urges. "I ... cannot argue with what you have said," Tiernan murmurs. "And would not wish to disrespect your feelings, even so. Please, know that I have always cared for you. I do love you. Even if not in the way you hoped. I ... hope that I speak prophecy when I say that you will find the happiness you want and need."
     Even if it is not with him. He exhales, keeping his expression where it was, how it was. "If you ever need anything... you will always have my friendship, Agapios. And a debt that cannot be repaid. I am sorry that I did not write. That was an unnecessary cruelty; I should have."
     He is honest, as he has always tried to be, and his eyes meet yours with a measure of it. "I will remember you," Tiernan finishes simply. "Do not think that I will not."

     "I thank you for that," he notes quietly. "I don't like talking about the future, as you know. But... thank you for the sentiment also." With a clearing breath, the siren rises in his sea-colored silks and his mother of pearl. "I am glad things have worked out for you. And that you have peace, Tiernan. I was proud to fight by your side."
     He holds his hand out for you to shake. "May the seas be gentle to your ships. Should you ever have a loss at sea, please send word to me. We will always do what we can for the sailors." He takes your hand in a single, solid grasp then lets you go.
     He says nothing of your memories. Anyone that has ever sunk to the bottom of the sea in the arms (and mouth) of a siren never forgets it. He does not worry about his posterity in your mind. "Take care of yourself, my friend."
     Agapios goes to the door. He turns to you and smiles. "I'm going to go for a swim, I think." It is spoken casually, as if you and he will see one another later tonight. He doesn't say goodbye or cast you a longing look. He simply speaks his present desire and smiles with a siren's winsome way as he leaves.

     "I will do that," Tiernan answers you quietly. He allows the handshake, remaining where he had sat himself down, watching you. What price regret now? You are going. And in all probability, never will your path and his cross again. For both of you, there is the acknowledgment of how things could have been different.
     But they were not...
     And roads must part, and he is not fool enough to think otherwise. There is no movement made to follow you. He lets you go, as he must. "May your gods watch your way, Agapios," Tiernan murmurs. "I am sure your waters will be smooth. Good luck to you and yours."

     He nods as he closes the door behind him. "Thank you," he says, "...and to you also."
     Agapios remains at the head of the stairway for a moment before the sound of his steps begin to draw away. He creates a quiet spectacle as he leaves; he can't help that. But he leaves quietly, saying nothing to your staff on his way.
     Outside on the docks, he pauses to take a look around. One never knows what the future will hold. He never once thought it would ever bring him here, or that he would ever have fought trolls and ogres on land in the company of Tiernan of the Winter Diamonds.
     You just never know...
     He does not pause for wistfulness now. With a clearing breath, Agapios heads for the water and home.

Posted by rowan at May 22, 2007 07:33 AM