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[vecna]

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[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.

[velluminous]

[ this looks like a place you'd get unwittingly murdered in. she releases the spectral hand; it vanishes with a waggle of its fingers ]

I don't like that room.

[vecna]

Why not? Didn't you enjoy breaking the glassware?

[The surf shop has a line of surfboards hung on large racks against the wall, absolutely useless to the two now within it. But beyond that, somewhere on a few wooden shelves, are neatly-folded towels of bright and tropical colors.]

[velluminous]

I do not like chair.

[ she's stripping out of her necktie, her blazer, her vest, her socks, and so on ]

[vecna]

[Raises a brow. Should he be turning around?

Well, first he will be grabbing a towel--covered in rainbow palm trees--and flinging it her way.]

No one will make you sit in the chair.

[velluminous]

I have to think.

[ it doesn't appear that she cares much whether he watches or turns away—does that help or hinder? once he's tossed the towel, though, she slinks behind a display. ]

[vecna]

[It is a vaguely curious hindrance, if only because reminding himself of what is polite and proper often comes at a delay thanks to his time departed as, well, human. But once she disappears behind a display of suntan lotion, Henry tears his gaze away. Focuses on grabbing his own towel with a bright rainbow hewn into the design (irony), and begins unbuttoning his shirt.

He does turn around, at least, but that's about as much as he cares about propriety when Sprezzatura clearly only has a minimal concern.]

About?

[velluminous]

[ she's toweling herself off quite roughly, befitting her mood; there's nothing about this that's charged besides her temper, and she is very much attempting to keep that down. ]

I cannot let my anger best me. I am always enormous idiot when I do.

[vecna]

[He's in the process of peeling off very wet clothes, which land in a crumple on the floor. Hope both of them are fine with clothing themselves in beachwear when they're done...

Henry is going to work on drying off his hair when he's done, ruffling the towel around his scalp, since this is where it seems to bother him the most.]

And what are you always so angry about? This place? What you told me about your parents? Something else?

[velluminous]

Haah. Yes. [ that's the simple answer. her parents are a perpetual fire under her skin, and yes, she hates this prison, and yes, there's more to it. ] I hate feeling stupid, powerless. Trapped inside my own head. I hate being made to dance for warden and derided for wanting her tokens, and I am angry when we lose and I am angry at terrible stipulations for winning. I am not meant to lead. I just want my life back, and Teaferth—my work. Tired of answering to everyone. Then I begin to think I am curse, so I try to loosen up; be bigger, better woman. Bah. Babbling idiot who has strange way of talking, and it usually is wrong thing that I say.

[vecna]

[That is a lot. There are parts he can understand, just as there are parts so distant from his own experiences that he can only take them at face value.

Toweling off the rest of him now, he doesn’t reply immediately.]

Almost everything you’ve listed is beyond your control. So why bother fighting your anger? You should use it.

[A beat.]

I use it. What I told you about my powers — it isn’t all willpower and focus. The other half of the equation is emotion. It’s a helpful tool — you should see it that way, too.

[velluminous]

[ "the other half is emotion". she slows the rough tousling of her hair, cutting her gaze sidelong—just a little. not enough to actually catch a glimpse. just something Sprezzatura is filing away for later. ]

Tools are only tools when you wield them right. Otherwise, they are weapons.

[vecna]

Think of the place we’re in.

[Not this silly, bright surf shop. But the prison that they share.]

Think about how you just told me it makes you feel. What’s so bad about having a weapon at your disposal when everything else is stacked against you?

[velluminous]

[ she's quiet... literally digesting that. ]

And what of my possession?

[vecna]

[He’s as dry as he’s going to manage by now, which means he’s wrapping this ridiculous rainbow towel around his waist and seeking out a new set of clothing.]

You’re oni’s... a handful, I understand, but you don’t have to live in contention with her all the time, right?

[velluminous]

[ she hears him moving about and pulls her own towel around herself. she hasn't fully stripped down, though. just her outer clothes. ]

She wants to be let out. I let her out, and she harms those I care for. She would even harm you.

[vecna]

I can take care of myself.

[If her concern actually extends towards himself and bodily harm. It’s said easily enough, even as he begins going through the racks of… tropical wear. Not all swim trunks for men, but definitely the majority. Surely there are like, khakis in here? Come on, surf shop.]

She probably wants out not only to harm, but because she’s trapped. Wouldn’t you feel restless, too? Why don’t you try to reason with her.