She should be wiggling. Squirming. Doing whatever it takes to get out from beneath him, but she isn't. Septima doesn't know why, either, and merely chalks it up to the fact she's still somewhat in shock at the.. betrayal is a strong word. It's accurate to how she feels, but strong and a bit dramatic. She lifts her lip in response to his joke, growling softly as she rolled her eyes. "Yeah, yeah, laugh it up." Septima snorts and makes a half hearted attempt to get out from below him, but he has her pinned rather well.

"You know my sisters. You know what they're like, and they've always been like that. Whenever they'd pounce, I usually ended up with my head being shoved underwater." Or a mouthful of sand, or a cactus in her bed..

"Outside of you, I don't even know anybody else." Septima huffs, using a paw to shove uselessly at his chest.

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She doesn’t try to get out from under him and Pallas has to wonder why, but his attention is dragged between questioning her motives and her voice. He’s used to pinning siblings and getting into a spar from it. There’s a little growl and he shouldn’t, but Pallas thinks it's a bit cute.

And then she explains that apparently the princesses have always been… like they are. Pallas couldn’t imagine hating his siblings. Sure, he’s distant from the ones still alive, but his brothers had been… fun. Before they died. But those initial months had been formative and playful.

"Oh." Pallas says, intelligently. "Uhm - " He stands and stiffly shuffles off of her, sitting to the side and finding it difficult to look her in the eye. Had she thought he’d attack for no reason? Or that he was…

Amazing. Great job, Pallas.

"It was just a joke."

When her words finally sink in, Pallas looks downright morose. Septima frowns, unable to grasp why the mood had suddenly soured. Was she supposed to have squealed more? Not at all? She knows very little about playful playing and it shows as she slowly moves to her haunches, ears flattening against her head. "I know, I wasn't trying to say it wasn't. Just.. I didn't have any friends growing up, so I'm not used to it? I don't know." Septima shrugs, feeling the embarrassment creep up her neck and bleed into her cheeks. "I mean, it seems like it could be fun? I don't really know how to do it, though. It's always been either don't look at each other or fighting to the death." She sighs, her shoulders slouching a bit. "But, anyway, everyone's childhood is messed up, right?" An attempt to diffuse the situation. A bad attempt.

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If septima looks embarrassed, Pallas feels just as awkward. Which is a strange, alien feeling for the boy who lived in anger and mild annoyance most of his life. There was no time for feelings like embarrassment and uncertainty. He shrugs, trying to dismiss the emotion and the subject entirely because, frankly, he has no idea what to say to all of that. “That sucks” just doesn’t seem to cover it.

"You just… play." He frowns, unsure how to explain the concept to someone who’d never really tried before. And then Pallas’s head inclines in agreement. His had been… probably less than spectacular, but thankfully most of his worst memories were safely not roleplayed out and therefore hazy at best in the back of his mind, untouched and gathering dust.

His mind had latched onto one part of her rambling, though, and his gaze flicks up to meet hers, and there’s a strange almost sad smile on his face. "If I’m all you’ve got for a friend you really should get out more."

Septima grows more and more frazzled as the moments tick by. His helpful description of how to play is met with a pensive frown because golly, why didn't she think of that? Wrinkling her muzzle up in agitation, Septima shakes her head. "The only playing I ever did was playing make believe by myself. I used to pretend I was a queen and my sisters had to do everything I said." And then as time went on, she began to pretend her mother was still actively involved in her life. Sometimes it drifted to pathetic as she would gaze out waiting for Genya to return, but he certainly doesn't need to know that part. He likely already finds her absolutely pitiful as it is.

When Pallas serves the conversation a healthy dose of self deprecating humor, Septima is too caught up in his words to notice. Friends? "Are.. are we friends?" she asks, her folded ears straining forward as though she might miss his reply. She shuffles her front paws nervously, almost wishing she could take it back.

code by Cloudy

He used to pretend to be a real dragon, or a king. When he was very little. He had played knights and monsters with his brothers, and often smote them with his mighty roar. And then they had died for real and the games stopped. Pallas would rather not remember any of that, even the play.

Septima catches him forcibly off guard when she asks that question, peering at him with too wide eyes and the most earnest look he had ever seen on anyone. The Tollaire blinks. "I think we’re probably past the point of being acquaintances." He manages to admit without breaking eye contact, no matter the force of her gaze.

His answer isn't satisfying, but what was she expecting? Septic suck-up had no friends, not really. She can name on one paw the amount of lions she even knows, and Pallas was right after her own family. Although he didn't outright say they weren't friends, Septima knows better than to assume anything. Assuming leads to grief and she has had enough of that for the moment, thank you very much. Instead of pushing him further, she slouches back onto her haunches with a muted thud. She's not sure what the term is for more than acquaintances but less than friends, but she supposes she has one of them now. Now she finds herself in an awkward silencer her silvery gaze struggling to find somewhere comfortable to settle. "Well, that's good." Septima clears her throat, shuffling her paws. Maybe she should be going?

code by Cloudy

That’s good. Is it? Who the fuck would want to be friends with the pathetic sack of shit Pallas was turning out to be. Not even his name was useful - his parents weren’t rulers anymore and the Tollaire was just the four of them now, really. Who knew where his older siblings had gone? Somewhere better, probably.

Pallas shrugs. "Thanks for the… healing." Not wanting to remain in the awkward setting, he stands gingerly. "I’m gonna go nap." Which is probably a lie - he’s more likely to end up taking far too many of the painkillers Septima had given him, and stare at the walls for hours.

At least it’s fun.

Exit.

She's relieved when he decides to pull away. It doesn't feel quite as awkward if he initiates it, somehow. Maybe it does for him, but she appreciates his willingness to leave, as terrible as it sounds. Septima breathes a small, quiet sigh of relief as he rises to his paws and she nods encouragingly at the prospect of a nap. "That would be good. Sleep as long as you can." It will speed up his recovery time and besides, you don't feel much pain when you're unconscious. Septima rises to her own paws next and watches him disappear down the labyrinth before turning to slip into the afternoon sun.

exit

code by Cloudy