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* Glossaria lies back in bed, reviewing the events of the afternoon. With a sigh and a shake of her head, she folds back the covers and slips out of bed, careful not to disturb her sleeping husband. * Glossaria quietly slides on an overrobe and pads barefoot up the stairs to Zoya's lab. * Zoya is sitting on a stool in her lab, her elbows on the lab table and her chin propped in her hands, watching a reaction in a small petri dish with fascinated absorption. * Glossaria slips in, moving to just within the range of her Mistress' peripheral vision and standing quietly. <Zoya> ::without moving:: Yes, Glossaria? <Glossaria> When you have a moment, Mistress, I would appreciate your... ::she thinks a moment:: ... counsel, on a certain matter. <Zoya> Hmm? Oh. Just... ::she touches the edge of the dish, and a bluish glow surrounds it, halting the reaction:: What is... ::she frowns as she looks up at Glossaria:: What time is it? <Glossaria> ::cocking her head:: Four minutes past the fourth hour of the morning, Mistress. <Zoya> ::blinks:: Oops. ::she looks around at the plate of food on the table beside her, barely touched, then picks up the mug and takes a tentative sip. She winces:: Warm cider... ::she puts the mug down decisively and looks back at Glossaria:: And what are you doing up? <Glossaria> ::patiently:: Requesting your counsel on a certain matter, Mistress. ::glancing down at the floor:: I couldn't sleep. <Zoya> I presume it has something to do with the matter on which you desire counsel. ::she raises an eyebrow:: Do enlighten me. * Glossaria nudges another stool forward and perches on it, nesting her hands together in her lap. "Temire visited earlier today, to return the romance novels she'd borrowed, and to a lesser extent, find a friend to talk to." <Zoya> ::nods expectantly:: <Glossaria> You know of her romantic relationship with Ilarion Quilisian, of the Psionics School? <Zoya> ::ponders:: I seem to remember something along those lines, yes. <Glossaria> ::nods:: Their relationship has had a setback... after telling Temire that he loved her and-- I would assume-- taking her virginity, he had sex with another girl, Catreenia. He spent the following five days intoxicated before returning home, confessing his actions to Temire, and apologizing. <Zoya> ::snorts:: Five *days*? What on earth was he- ::shakes her head:: No, nevermind. So she was, understandably, upset - and she came to you for comfort? <Glossaria> ::frowning slightly:: She was obviously distraught when she returned the books, and when I offered her tea and conversation, she accepted. <Zoya> ::nods:: Certainly. <Glossaria> She informed me of what had happened, and... broke down, and I comforted her as best I could... and she *seemed* to be responding well, at first... <Zoya> And then...? <Glossaria> but... ::starting to look a little distressed herself:: then she became mildly hysterical... and then angry... and then increasingly self-abusive and irrational... and by the time Vallel arrived, she was... well, it was as if she'd... regressed. ::biting her lip, looking worried:: Anything I said only seemed to make matters worse... <Zoya> ::nods:: Some people retreat into mental childhood as a method of escape from unpleasant mental or emotional stress. <Glossaria> Her reaction was... extreme, and unexpected, and... ::her face crumpling, tears running down her cheeks:: I was trying to help her, and I only made it *worse*! <Zoya> ::looks surprised, then reaches over to put an arm around Glossaria's shoulders:: Well, that happens to all of us, sometimes. <Glossaria> ::burrowing her head into Zoya's shoulder, her own shoulders shaking:: But... so often... I just don't *understand*! H-how can I be a good friend if I can't even understand what it is to be *human*? <Zoya> ::smiles faintly and strokes Glossaria's hair comfortingly:: You're being very human right now, dear. <Glossaria> ::sniffling:: I am? <Zoya> Yes. *Wanting* to help and being hurt when you fail is a very human thing to do. ::she considers briefly:: The thing with humans, Glossaria, is that most of us don't even understand *ourselves* - and we're all *very* different. <Glossaria> ::sniffles:: But there are certain recognized sociological patterns... ::hiccups a sob:: Why did Temire become so... so *irrational*? <Zoya> ::stifles a grin:: I'm sure I don't know. I wouldn't have guessed her for the regression type, myself. Strong emotions do tend to make people irrational, Gloss; I *know* we've discussed this... You're getting just a little irrational, yourself, wouldn't you say? <Glossaria> ::sniffles, and blinks:: I'm having difficulty keeping my emotional reaction in check, but I'm still capable of reason... ::sniffs again:: Although I was unable to reason myself to sleep. <Zoya> ::nods:: And you're quite possibly the most rational person I know. So - if you can come so far down the path to irrationality... ::she shrugs:: And Temire has never really struck me as an especially rational person to *begin* with. <Glossaria> So... she was greatly upset, emotionally, so she responded in an irrational fashion? But-- I was trying to calm her, not make her more upset. What did I do incorrectly? <Zoya> Well.. That's hard to say. I don't know her very well, and I didn't witness the discussion. She may have misinterpreted something you said; or maybe what you told her triggered an especially unpleasant memory or thought; or you may have inadvertently helped her draw together a repugnant idea that had previously escaped her... ::shrugs:: Any number of things might have been the trigger. <Glossaria> ::nods:: So... ::drying her eyes on her robe:: You think my perception that I was somehow... unfeeling to her, and gave negative advice, is... false? ::looking hopeful:: <Zoya> Probably, though since I don't have a transcription, I won't say for certain. But it seems far more likely, in a situation like this, that you merely said something that triggered a thought that upset her. <Glossaria> ::swallowing her tears, sitting up a little straighter on her stool:: Mistress Zoya... could I... that is, would you teach me... your Mask? <Zoya> ::raises her eyebrows:: To what end? <Glossaria> ::shaking her head:: I have no success in dealing with my emotions, much as I try. If I had some way to... to control them... perhaps then at least they wouldn't interfere with my reasoning. <Zoya> ::sighs:: The Mask doesn't control emotions. It blocks them. And when I take it down, then I have to deal with them all at once - which is even less fun than it sounds like. In any case, cold reason would not have helped you with the situation you faced with Temire - it would probably even have made it worse. <Glossaria> ::miserably:: Then... why do you take it down? <Zoya> ::looks at Glossaria with a smile:: I had this argument with Kevil every day for *months*, do you know that? Because when I'm wearing the Mask, I can't care for anyone, or be happy about anything. <Glossaria> ::looks distressed:: I wouldn't care for Vallel? <Zoya> ::shakes her head:: No. As soon as the Mask went up, he would be no more to your thinking mind than an ally and a resource. And if you used him in that capacity, and he was hurt by it - you would suffer terribly when the Mask came down. <Glossaria> ::biting her lip:: Then-- why do you use the Mask at all? <Zoya> ::sighs:: I shouldn't, at all, but it's an old reflex. I don't handle strong emotions very well, and there are times when I believe I *must* not allow them to distract me. <Glossaria> ::nods:: I wish for times like that... I... ::regretfully:: I wish I'd had it when Charoli was alive... <Zoya> To block her out? ::considers:: I don't know how well it would have worked. The Mask crumbles, under enough pressure from within. <Glossaria> ::looking alarmed:: It does? <Glossaria> ::shakes her head and shudders:: Then it wouldn't have helped, either.... <Zoya> ::nods:: When I faced down Masato, fully one-third of the power I was drawing had to be sent into keeping the Mask whole. ::she shivers a little at the memory:: * Glossaria wraps her arms somewhat hesitantly around Zoya, hugging her. "Mistress... this... feels good." * Zoya returns Glossaria's hug, smiling. "Yes, it does." She chuckles. <Glossaria> ::looking up:: Thank you, Mistress. I'm not certain my understanding has improved, but... I think I can sleep, now. <Zoya> ::nods:: Good. If you ever *do* understand... By all means, share it with me. <Glossaria> ::smiles:: Of course, Mistress. After all, I'm only the apprentice. <Zoya> ::laughs, and gently pushes Glossaria toward the door:: Go back to bed and cuddle with your husband. I've got work to do. ::she smiles fondly:: <Glossaria> ::smiles over her shoulder:: Yes, Mistress. ::shakes her finger:: But eat, first! * Zoya glances somewhat guiltily at her barely-touched plate. "All right." * Glossaria smiles, and pads off quietly down the hall, back down the stairs. * Zoya eyes the plate again with distaste, and shoves it aside, then leans back toward her petri dish. * Glossaria slips off her robe and slides back into bed, snuggling up against Vallel and moving her cold feet up against his. After a moment, she levers herself up on one elbow, staring at the ceiling. and tilts her hand to summon the Staff. * Glossaria settles back down to sleep as the Staff delivers a fresh plate of food and piping-hot mulled cider to Zoya's elbow. |
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