[ Nikolai realizes his mistake when Onni takes some time to answer. He curses himself for being an idiot, and is just about to open his mouth and retract his question when Onni answers. His voice is rough but his face neutral. That, and the silence, and the way he says 'left'...
It doesn't take a genius, to put it together. Nikolai might not know the details, but the shape of a tragedy is there. Onni's world sounds so harsh, with its disease and its monsters. Why hadn't Nikolai anticipated that he might be an orphan?
Apologizing for asking would only draw more attention to Onni's distress, and that doesn't seem kind. Nikolai instead does his best to smooth over the moment, keeping his eyes intent on the vegetables he is helping to prepare. ]
I don't have, really. My parents are alive but we haven't spoken in years. It's always so complicated, isn't it, with family? I asked because, well, this stew! It made me think of a story I once heard, from a palace guard, about two families that practically went to war over a disputed old book of recipes...
[ He smoothly transitions into an amusing anecdote, something to get them past the awkward moment. It's a lie, of course - that hadn't been why he asked. He'd simply wanted to know more about Onni. And, well, he'd gotten his wish. Now he knows that if he asks about family, Onni will become still and careful. Useful knowledge, though he regrets any pain he may have caused in learning it.
Once his little story is done, Nikolai lapses into silence again. They get the meal cooking, and eventually Nikolai tells Onni a little more about the different types of Grisha, about the landscape in Ravka. By the time they have eaten and cleaned up, the sun has dipped halfway behind the horizon, and Nikolai is so tired he can feel it in his bones. He hides it the best he can, hefting the bottle he'd acquired and the bag with the chains. ]
Well, as pleasant as this is, I suppose there's no putting it off any longer. If you would, kindly lead the way to my basement.
[ Nikolai is feeling grim enough as they set out that he twists the cap from the bottle and begins to drink straight from it as they walk. It burns on the way down, and he swallows most of a cough, saying with admiration: ]
Oh, that tastes like shit! I think I like it.
[ He offers it to Onni, with a quick: ]
I know, I know, you're mostly staying sober. But you should at least try it.
cw: alcohol [ongoing from here]
It doesn't take a genius, to put it together. Nikolai might not know the details, but the shape of a tragedy is there. Onni's world sounds so harsh, with its disease and its monsters. Why hadn't Nikolai anticipated that he might be an orphan?
Apologizing for asking would only draw more attention to Onni's distress, and that doesn't seem kind. Nikolai instead does his best to smooth over the moment, keeping his eyes intent on the vegetables he is helping to prepare. ]
I don't have, really. My parents are alive but we haven't spoken in years. It's always so complicated, isn't it, with family? I asked because, well, this stew! It made me think of a story I once heard, from a palace guard, about two families that practically went to war over a disputed old book of recipes...
[ He smoothly transitions into an amusing anecdote, something to get them past the awkward moment. It's a lie, of course - that hadn't been why he asked. He'd simply wanted to know more about Onni. And, well, he'd gotten his wish. Now he knows that if he asks about family, Onni will become still and careful. Useful knowledge, though he regrets any pain he may have caused in learning it.
Once his little story is done, Nikolai lapses into silence again. They get the meal cooking, and eventually Nikolai tells Onni a little more about the different types of Grisha, about the landscape in Ravka. By the time they have eaten and cleaned up, the sun has dipped halfway behind the horizon, and Nikolai is so tired he can feel it in his bones. He hides it the best he can, hefting the bottle he'd acquired and the bag with the chains. ]
Well, as pleasant as this is, I suppose there's no putting it off any longer. If you would, kindly lead the way to my basement.
[ Nikolai is feeling grim enough as they set out that he twists the cap from the bottle and begins to drink straight from it as they walk. It burns on the way down, and he swallows most of a cough, saying with admiration: ]
Oh, that tastes like shit! I think I like it.
[ He offers it to Onni, with a quick: ]
I know, I know, you're mostly staying sober. But you should at least try it.