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[vecna]

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[vecna]

Why did you—

[Oh, he should just push her back under with his powers. Let her linger there for a full minute. Instead, Henry holds up his arm to block her haphazard splash, then lowers it to—

Splash her back. As spitefully as one can manage.]

Are you a child?

[Why is the water so cold— every muscle feels taut in reaction to the temperature.]

[velluminous]

[ splutters ]

Perhaps if I were, you would like me better! [ mister orderly. ] Haa. [ she growls in the back of her throat, just from the sheer chill, and splashes him again ] We are both here now.

[vecna]

[Sputters back. He’s lost his layer of affability, as though it’s sloughed off in the water like a dead thing. Seen in the sharp displeasure of a red and blue gaze.]

I would like you better if your pride wasn’t so easily wounded.

[He’s not going to stand around here splashing her like a child— is what he thinks as he splashes her again, then pushing his hair out of his eyes, beginning to slosh towards the shore.]

[velluminous]

[ her veins run a little icy, but she simply cannot stop herself from barking after him, ] My pride??

[vecna]

[Not even turning to call back-]

It wasn’t mine that landed me in the water with you.

[velluminous]

[ BUT WHOSE PRIDE IS THE REASON SHE'S IN THE WATER??? ]

It— [ you know what? forget it. she seethes, lashing her tail in the water. after a moment or two, a boot thunks into the wet sand at the shore, followed by the other. fucking fine. ]

[vecna]

[He’s drenched when he pulls himself back to shore. His hair clings to his face, his clothes cling to his body, his shoes squelch wetly as he trudges though the sand.

Only now does he turn to face her, drowned rat to drowned rat.]

Is this what you do to all your students?

[velluminous]

[ while the catharsis of dragging him in had felt good, for a moment, it doesn't last long. seeing him wet and furious on the shore just makes her stomach sink. ] Yes, I am unfit professor and I ruin everything, thank you!

[vecna]

[Caught between trying to reel his amiable nature back in from the bottom of the ocean, versus letting the rest show through. The end result is half-and-half, a cobbled-together attempt at not just tossing her back into the sea.]

You're putting words in my mouth.

[velluminous]

Mammon! Would you just--they are my words in my mouth!

[vecna]

No, they're not.

I never said you were a terrible "professor", but it's hard not to think that whatever personal bias you still hold against me makes itself known in moments such as these.

[Tossing him into the ocean when he said, expressly, he does not enjoy being controlled against his will.]

[velluminous]

[ there's the armour-piercing comment: oh, Mammon. she's becoming a worse person.

he might see her clench a hand briefly in her hair before she embarks upon the slog back to shore. depositing herself in the shallows, soaked, her clothes clinging uncomfortably ]

You're right. I have been unpleasant woman. Forgive me.

[vecna]

[His own hand comes up again to run fingers through his hair, sweeping it back and wringing out what excess water he can. The chill is settling in, now, he can feel it. He'll need a change of clothes -- that's a foregone conclusion.]

What do we need to do to clear the air?

[A clean slate would be so much easier at this point; otherwise, he wonders if the effort is at all worth it.

(Of course, he should probably apologize about launching her into the ocean in the first place.)]

[velluminous]

Haa. What am I doing? There is nothing you've done which needs amends. [ pressing the heel of her hand to her forehead, hard ] I am just being—petty.

[vecna]

[He's silent for a moment. Deciding again how gracious he wishes to feel about the whole ordeal, even if her words shift the blame -- makes it easier for him to lessen his frustrations. Makes it easier to find his politeness, too.]

Do you want to talk about it?

[A beat.]

After we fetch a few towels.

[velluminous]

[ there should be towels on the beach shack... painstakingly getting to her feet ]

I am not sure if there is anything to say. [ rather than a hard stop, this is just... confession, as she begins to walk ] Something is wrong with me.

[vecna]

[The beach shack has more than enough to towel off two people if they can find it in the fog. Henry trails behind her. Their magic session may as well be done with for the day.]

Wrong with you? What do you mean?

[velluminous]

[ fortunately,,

with the softest mutter, a tiny spectral hand appears, crooking its finger at them both ]

I am... not nice. But nicer than this.

[vecna]

[Oh, a spectral hand; another trick of hers that proves quite useful in this fog. Well, what choice do they have but to follow? Henry shakes water off his fingers, still dripping through his wet sleeves.]

Based on whose expectations?

[Which might sound hypocritical, given he just gave her shit about tossing him into the ocean. That said, it is easy to take personal offense but not apply it to an overall ideal.]

Because you don't meet a baseline for "nice" doesn't mean there's something wrong with you. It just means others have to work harder to earn it. [Wry.] Including myself, apparently.

[velluminous]

[ she glances at him aside, her tail dragging quietly behind ]

I am saying I do not normally drag people into ocean.

[vecna]

I imagine you don't, so that just makes me special.

But I'm trying to say that it's a strange label to apply to yourself. Something wrong.

[But maybe he has a few personal issues with the whole concept.]

[velluminous]

[ the hand continues to beckon, guiding them, guiding them ]

I feel angry. Confrontational.

[vecna]

[And so they follow.]

You may just need an outlet.

[velluminous]

[ before long, they reach the wooden platform of the surf shop, looming ominously in the fog ]

Mammon. Not enough enrichment...

[vecna]

[Henry steps onto the wooden platform once they reach it properly. What an utterly strange sort of shop, bright colors obscured by the gloom. The entrance is open, with all manner of surf items within.

By now, his sheen of soft-spoken politeness has fully returned to him.]

I don't mean that kind of outlet. I mean the "tantrum room" kind of outlet, Ms Vaux.