Fool's Rook [Closed]

[saronym]

Owen shrugged deferentially in response Wednesday feeling like Odin-ness. He never had much interest in myths or legends even ones relevant to his own heritage.

“Jules is not most women.” Owen countered weakly. He wondered at the source of Darcias’ information about Julianna’s new found liking for coffee. Had she sat in this very chair recently sharing coffee with her sister? He figured not. He tried to imagine Julianna drinking an over-sized mug of medium roast with a little cream and sugar. Nothing too bitter. Something with a sweetness to it. Maybe hazelnut? His fund of information about his own wife was proving inadequate. Had she really changed that much?

He left his thoughts and listened to the explanations he came to receive. His body stiffened as Darcias flippantly spoke of Julianna’s changed state as if she were some bored professor explaining a rudimentary chemical reaction. He listened much the same way a child being lectured by a parent might. His hands placed flat on the arms of the chair and fingers curled tightly around the wood. He maintained a resentful silence by a hard jaw clamped shut with willpower. It was a look he’d really mastered as an unruly child requiring frequent disciplining.

An involuntary scoff escaped from his throat when informed that he was ‘not the person’ for Julianna.

“Oh, spare me!” Owen snapped dramatically. “If your reservations about me were so grave where were you to defend helpless Julianna all those years? Look me in the eye and tell me she was dancing in celebration on my grave and I’ll leave right now. I suspect you didn’t even attend my funeral though. Probably couldn’t be bothered to save face with your bereaved sister and light a candle for me. No, instead you go fucking up her mind and revising our history. How convenient. Your moral high ground is a house of cards Darcias.”

He pushed himself up from the chair just enough to snatch the paperweight she had been toying with. The disrupted papers shuffled here and there across the wood. He tested the weight in the hand that was bruised from striking Kama. “‘What’s done is done’ she says.” Owen mocked Darcias cruelly. “You embarrass yourself. Take it from an expert, telling a convincing lie takes a certain je ne sais quoi in the delivery. And you, just don’t have it.”

Owen was leaning forward in his chair nearly on the edge, the paperweight on his palm like a kind of visual warning. “Let’s try this again shall we?”

“Tell me how to fix my fucking wife.” He brought the paperweight down onto the desk in front of him. It just forceful enough to scar the desk’s fine finish. The tea set quivered at the impact, tinkling its protests delicately.