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A text from Cian to Phaedra: would you be willing to have your lesson at my flat tonight? We can talk more freely than at the Elysium. I've been doing research on what subjects the GED requires.
-C
willing? yeah. eager perhaps even, to see how you feather your own nest.
(address) i await your thoughts with some trepidation.
-C
be there soon.
And indeed, it's about half an hour later that there's a text from Phaedra letting him know she's arrived.
The address is in Society Hill, close to the river. Somehow, Cian's managed to find a basement apartment in one of the historic brick houses that line the cobbled streets, with a wrought iron gate and steps that lead down, under the main entrance, to a solid wooden door. The one window is barred with the same decorative wrought iron, and light shines dimly through semi-opaque curtains. Enough to let people know someone's home, but not enough to let them see inside.
He opens the door with a smile a few moments after she's texted, wearing his usual loose shirt and fitted trousers, though the shirt is untucked and he doesn't have suspenders. Or shoes.
"How has your evening been?" He asks as he ushers her inside and shuts the door behind her.
Phaedra's in one of her floaty peasant dresses, her hair held out of her face with one of those twist ties from a grocery store, wearing sandals on her feet. She has a notebook tucked under one arm, a pen stuck down the spiral for safe-keeping, and she looks just the tiniest bit nervous.
The first and most immediately obvious thing in Cian's small flat are the books. Books lining the dark wood bookshelves that surround the living space, books piled haphazardly on the small couch (more of a loveseat, really,) books stacked on the table in the corner and on the floor and on the counters of the obviously disused kitchen...mostly history books, of course. A range of subjects and time periods, and there's a handful of other sorts of nonfiction, as well.
"I managed to find a second chair, we can work at the table." He strides over to it as he speaks, letting her look around the space if she has the inclination to.
The first thing she does is take her sandals off, tucking them away somewhere in the entryway. And then, she does explore the flat quietly, walking slowly through the space, letting her fingertips ghost along the spines of books gently, slowly, taking in the small details. Piecing him together from how he keeps his home. Or trying to. After a minute of so, she walks to the table, and sets her notebook down.
"You're thirsty for knowledge. None of these are books kept to impress, and they're not all for help with keeping up your disguise. Edo era Japan and Ancient Greece and the mythology of the Azteca wouldn't help you with that. You keep these because you want to know. You don't hunt for secrets, like I do, but you hunt knowledge nonetheless."
The bookshelves are organized by category, then alphabetical by author, and an entire case devoted to lgbtq+ history. Another bookcase is full of fiction - romances, a shelf of erotica. Still another has art books, a visual component to the thousands upon thousands of words that fill the place. The books littering the loveseat and the floor are less organized, though it's clear that there's a handful of subjects that he's gone back to time and time again, enough to put them at the top of the piles. Those are primarily focused on late 18th century Europe, and sailing.
"Your insightfulness strikes again," he says. "You aren't wrong, I enjoy study. The discovery, the learning. It's exhilarating, the way fast cars are for some."
She looks sidelong at him. "I was talking about you the other night, to a member of your clan." This might sound like a subject change, but there's focus in her eyes. This is going somewhere.
"...Were you?" He arches an eyebrow and leans back in his chair.
"I was. Guy Dagenham, of the Ordo Dracul. Family Mac Lochlainn. We were talking about choices and things. You really ought to meet him at some point." She drums her fingernails across the cover of her notebook. "I think...you ought to talk to someone here someday, about the Ordo Dracul here. And while Guy doesn't do fast cars, he's a motorcycle nut, like Sledge--he's offered to teach me to ride and I think I'm going to take him up on it."
There's a small grimace at the mention of the Ordo Dracul. "I'm sure they're different here. I don't know that I'd be interested in returning to that particular covenant, regardless of how well I do or don't fit with the Carthians. How did you decide to join the Circle of the Crone?"
"My sire was one, and it was as far from a restrictive Christian upbringing as I could possibly get. And...I do feel this is a gift, the Beast. A shard of something bigger, greater, divine. That each of us holds a shard of the Mother of Monsters in our hearts, the Beast. A blessing. So...I will descend, and seek power through Cruac and through my Beast, and become more than I am now." Her gaze grows distant for a moment. "It's definitely not where you'd ever belong, Cian."
"I have no delusions about whether I'd belong there," he says with a quiet chuckle. "The Carthians were...if not a good fit, at least somewhat of a neutral? I will admit there were parts about the Dragons that I...I don't know if I'd go so far to say as I enjoyed them. But it wasn't all awful. At the moment there are simply too many connections to even entertain the notion of returning. Even here."
She eyes him. "In any other world, it's exactly where you'd belong. Where you should have been at home. I hate your sire even more now, for keeping you from the discovery you cherish so much."
"She was a Dragon, too. She twisted everything to her own devices - she'd have made an excellent Invictus, I think." Cian wilts a little, talking about his sire. "And yet, when I think of the covenant, I think of her."
Phaedra walks over to stand near Cian, touching his sleeve lightly. And then she pulls back away and sits at the other chair at the table. "Sorry."
He frowns, but doesn't pull away. "What are you apologizing for?"
"Being nosy and pushy and bringing up all the uncomfortable things and making you uncomfortable." The tone of her voice sounds like that should be obvious.
"...Ah. It's something worth talking about, yes? Explanations can be helpful, in cases like this."
"Has it helped you to understand, to explain it to me?"
"I...am not sure what there is to understand, for me. It was an unfortunate circumstance that I have since gotten away from, there's not much more to understand than that."
"Mm." She opens her notebook, flipping to a blank page and pulling out the pen. "So, what're we studying tonight?"
"Well - much of the GED is less focused on facts and figures, and more about how we synthesize the information we gather from historical documents. I've printed out a few study guides with the thought that we could go over them together, to see where you might need help with that synthesizing. Does that sound amenable?" He pulls a folder off the top of a pile of books as he speaks, and turns to look around the room with a frown, until he spots a pencil between two stacks of books and grabs it.
She nods quietly. "That sounds like somewhere to start, yeah. Okay."
And over the next few hours, a little more about Phaedra's mind becomes clear. She is, quite honestly, brilliant. But she doesn't do well when put on the spot or under time pressure. It's strange, but when she feels comfortable to take the time on something, to think it through thoroughly, she's much, much more likely to get somewhere. And there's something about her eye for details, too. While her book learning is limited, approaching things like a puzzle tends to work better than drawing upon facts from memory.
It gives Cian a sense of how to strategize studying for her. Of course, there's moments when she needs facts, or she's missing a word from her vocabulary that she still gets very frustrated with herself.
Cian's a competent teacher, giving her the time she needs to figure things out, but stepping in if she's getting frustrated and needs reassurance. "It's worth remembering that it will be a timed test - but having a solid handle on how to test will get you just as far as having knowledge of something like history. It might be worth seeing what you can do about getting extra time - I'm sure there's someone in the city willing to vouch for you as a medical professional." He clearly means one of the Kindred, and isn't suggesting she go find any old doctor.
"Maybe, but I don't want to need extra time. I want to actually be able to pass, regularly, like a normal person." She glances off to one side slightly, biting her lower lip. "And I don't want to ask any of the 'grown-ups' for that sort of help. Studying, sure. The rest...mmh."
"You needing extra time isn't a function of you being...lesser. Plenty of the people I've tutored needed some sort of accommodation. It doesn't mean you're not as smart, it just means you don't necessarily learn the same way the majority of people do. Likewise, asking for help doesn't make you any less worthy."
"I just...I feel like I have a lot to prove." Her voice is quiet, and she doesn't look at Cian as she says that.
"To whom?" Cian arches an eyebrow. "If its to people who make you feel lesser for asking for help, point me in their direction so I can have some words with them."
"What would you say to them?" That seems to surprise her somewhat.
"I would tell them that their dismissiveness and condescension is doing no one any favors, and if they refused to listen I...would consider trying alternative forms of getting them to understand." He flexes his hands as he speaks. "I am not particularly skilled at that sort of thing, but you don't deserve to feel like you can't ask for help."
"And what if it's me who feels I have to prove a lot to myself?"
There's a pause. "I would be much kinder to her. She spent a lot of time with people who molded her mind, like that. It's not her fault." His voice is quiet.
She takes a slow, deep breath in--entirely unnecessary, she's not blushed. "I know that, but if I can do something normal right, if I can prove my mind is good, maybe then I can feel like they're not still a part of it, a part of me. I would do anything for the caucus, for my family, for my friends, anything to show that I'm nothing like my family. That I really actually truly care about those around me. That I can be depended on. That I can choose who I act for."
"...Why on earth do you think your mind is bad? That's not how anything works, you - you've certainly proven all those things to me. I'm sure to others, too."
"But I need to keep proving them over and over again. To myself." Her shoulders hunch and she curls into herself a little.
"I'm sorry." Cian reaches out to put a hand on Phaedra's shoulder. Have you tried talking to a Spring about it? "I...have little advice, unfortunately. Have you found that affirmations from your friends help quiet your mind, at all?"
She glances at him, when he touches her, but doesn't move an inch--not a flinch, nor leaning into it. "Sometimes. I wouldn't ask for that, though. I shouldn't need pep talks."
"Do you imagine that no one needs pep talks? Or is this a standard you're setting for yourself?" When Phaedra goes still, he leans back, pulling his hand away.
She thinks for a moment. "...fffor myself, I guess."
"What would you say, if one of your friends told you everything you're telling me?" He stretches his legs, careful not to touch her under the table, and raises an eyebrow.
"I'd probably say...that they're being silly. Call them out at length and volume for their hypocrisy. I hate hypocrites, you know."
"Well...do you think you can call out the voice in your head for being silly, like that? In the way you'd talk to a friend?"
"You make it sound like that should be easy." But there's a little wry humor behind that response.
"I never said that." A smile tugs at the corners of his lips. "One might ask ones friend about the sorts of standards he sets for himself that he wouldn't dare impose on others..."
"What standards are you holding yourself to, Cian?" Her eyes soak him in, big and wide and unblinking. Like a creepy porcelain doll.
"Mmm. Out of necessity, that my created history is flawless. Of course it has led me to slip up in other areas, and mistakes are absolutely unacceptable." His sardonic smile widens.
"Everyone makes mistakes. You're putting yourself under a lot of pressure, and it's not like everyone's looking at you like I am. And even if they are, not everyone who sees is going to use it to hurt you. Which you know, from experience."
"I could point out that you're putting yourself under a lot of pressure too. I could, but I won't. I do know how you hate hypocrites."
This startles a laugh out of her. "You're terrible."
"I do my best." He chuckles quietly. "That is what friends are for, is it not?"
"Yes. It is. And you're one of the best friends I have." She nods sheepishly.
"Likewise." A nod, and he leans toward the table again. "I suppose we're probably finished with all of this for the evening, yes?" He gestures to the papers in front of the two of them.
"With the studying, yes." She nods a little, folding her notebook shut, slipping the pen back down the spiral binding. "Unless that's a polite way of dismissing me. It mighta been, but it was pretty subtle."
"No no, I meant the studying." Cian starts to tidy up, putting the study packets back in the folder he'd taken them from, and straightening some of the books he's pulled over to explain some concept or other. "I...am not the sort to be dismissive, especially after telling someone that they're a best friend."
"Oh, good." Phaedra stands, and playfully untidies a row of books, arranging them by color and height. Which looks prettier, but likely puts the topics out of order.
Cian stands rather abruptly when she starts to move his books around.
"Is there a purpose, for that?" His voice is still soft, not confrontational.
"To see how it'd make you react." She tilts her head to one side. "I'm pretty sure I could get them into the same order again, though. My memory is pretty solid."
She barely glances at the text on the spines, again working from color and size to get the shelf back how it started. "It matters to you, to have everything organized. In its right place. Does that come from the same place as your need for your history to be flawless? Some attempt to have control over your self and your environment? Especially after feeling like you didn't have that, in Boston?"
"I...have not given it much thought. I suppose it could be." He shifts, a little uncomfortable at being read so easily.
She turns back to face him quietly. "Should I apologize again?"
"I don't think so, no." He gives her a small smile. "It just never fails to catch me off guard."
"...is it weird that that's a good bit of the fun for me? Sharing something that catches you off-guard? Something that throws you for a loop?" There's a bit of a twinkle in her eyes.
"...I'm not sure." Cian huffs in amusement. "Would it matter either way?"
"Well. I guess I just want to make sure I'm not upsetting you when I do this, when it's just you and me and the walls listening."
He shakes his head. "It's not upsetting, no. I...suppose I trust you not to take advantage, no matter how much you catch me off guard. Otherwise it might be more uncomfortable."
"I will remain worthy of your trust." She smiles, moving to sit back down at the table.
"I would be rather disappointed, otherwise." Cian offers her a smile and sits back down.
"Did you have more plans for this evening?"
She shakes her head. "No, just this. Hanging out?"
"I'd enjoy that." His smile grows warmer as he leans back in his chair.
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