justice_is_blond | Inbox for Fade Rift

Sidony has a level of faith and understanding when it comes to Anders; she recognises that he understands her on the same level that Byerly might and she trusts that, even if she struggles to admit things to herself and to him. She wants to deny it because it would be easier to follow her path if she did; everything would be so much easier.

"So I'm supposed to wait until my own Nate comes along?" An eyebrow raises, looking at him sternly. She was planning on waiting anyway and waiting means marriage, so it all seems rather pointless.

"My work is what makes my life worthwhile, you said yourself. I'm not going to settle down here and waste my time waiting for something that might never happen when I have a job to do. You really are spouting a lot of nonsense, darling."

But, oh, she wants, quietly, intensely.

"Wait?" He raises an eyebrow back at her. There's no heat in the 'nonsense' bit, thankfully. For a split second he'd been stressed, but then the petname returned. They're fine. He isn't back to the old ways of driving people off.

"By no means should you be waiting around. You should be putting yourself out there. Meeting people, seeing who you like, spending time with them, deepening relationships. Nate is far from my first relationship, and not the first person I've loved. Do your job and look."

Anders has never been the sort to sit around and wait for things to happen, though he's getting closer to it as he gets older. That's not a change he likes. Being active is the only way to see positive change occur. The only way to make positive change.

"And be seen. Speak your thoughts, show who you are. It might backfire some, people don't like people having opinions, but you dress and carry yourself like nobility. You can get away with more volume than some."

Sidony raises her own eyebrows back, watching him for a moment. She's not ever going to be the type of person to give into scolding or any looks that someone else might give her - it hadn't worked when it was her mother and father, so it's certainly not going to work when it's a friend who's laps he happens to be sitting on.

"I am far too busy for all of that and you know it," she complains, shaking her head. "I've been spending time with people and I have been speaking with them, but it's not as if I'm aware of what they want from me beyond healing. It's easier with men, you know."

Which is the closest she's come to admitting her attractions without explicitly stating it, and she bites her cheek, frowning a little. She doesn't want to give too much away, but she's desperate for some way of understanding how to get her feelings across properly.

"So I need to be louder? I can think of many people who would disagree with you."

"I know it's easier to find members of the opposite sex. But that's not what makes you happy, Dwell on that - what you want - rather than the easy path." Because otherwise she'll be miserable.

"A path to take, and I can't say it's the best one, but it's the one that comes to mind, would be first to narrow down what sort of woman you're attracted to. Ones who can lift you over their head? Ones who you can fling over your shoulder? Long hair? Dark hair? Once you've a rough idea of that, go to a pub you find reputable enough and look around. Find some like that, find ones who aren't flirting with the men. Or maybe there's someone closer, someone in your friends group already who you find you like and you don't want to say as much to because admitting is rather intimidating." Not like it's stopped him, but other things have been intimidating enough to stop him so he understands. "You would like a relationship. Obviously. Else you'd not be sitting on my lap dodging around the topic. So let's find you one."

"A relationship."

The very idea has her nose wrinkling, but she doesn't protest any more than that. Instead, she breathes out gently and leans against him. There's a reason she had come to him, a reason why she had fallen into his lap and demanded his attention; he knew how to get to the heart of the matter, to poke through her bravado and flippancy to get to what she really wanted to say. She trusted him to do that.

"Strong," she admits quietly. "Stronger than I am. Smart enough to be entertaining. I don't much care about their hair." She sighs softly. "You make it sound terribly easy."

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