[ Definitely should have been paying more attention. That staring from before? Recommencing in three, two, one...ah there we go. They must make an odd picture, one stranger staring at another with all the focus of someone who doesn't quite know what he was expecting but got rather the opposite of what that probably was. At least at first.
When he speaks again however, Ned is facing him and so less inclined to try to hit the ceiling with his skull. Instead he reprises his fish-out-of-water rendition: mouth open, close, open, close. War? Those Seelie people said something about that, now that he thinks of it, but really he has always felt this way about orientations of any kind: the first experience is the worst because he can't focus. Of course he can't remember what they said to him. Part of his consciousness has the sense (or lack thereof) to be indignant, but this person (?) is not the target for his unhappiness.
In fact, he seems rather nice. Also calm.
Ned hones in on that, and while he does not literally feed off of it, it reminds him of his own general practice he had only moments before committed himself to: relax. Things will make sense. Somehow. Keep your head on straight. I am Ned. I bake pies and wake the dead. I am Ned.
He blinks for the umpteenth time and then rubs at his eyes with the heels of his hands. Something about that gesture helps further instill his old calmness and when he lowers his hands to his sides his expression is much softer, at ease for the time being. Not quite a switch, but a decision is a decision. Panic when it makes sense and right now it doesn't. ]
You don't need to be sorry.
[ Without the stranger having said it explicitly, it was clear enough in his tone and if nothing else, Ned has no intention of making undeserving parties apologize to him. The change in Ned has a subtlety to it, the way reverting to one's everyday self tends to contain: like shoulders slipping down out of a hunch or a breath releasing. His smile still seems ruffled but less anxious, less wild animal looking to bolt. ]
ahkfesdj im enjoying it so much ;-; lmfff lego YOUR FACE LMFDSLJSF;LS
When he speaks again however, Ned is facing him and so less inclined to try to hit the ceiling with his skull. Instead he reprises his fish-out-of-water rendition: mouth open, close, open, close. War? Those Seelie people said something about that, now that he thinks of it, but really he has always felt this way about orientations of any kind: the first experience is the worst because he can't focus. Of course he can't remember what they said to him. Part of his consciousness has the sense (or lack thereof) to be indignant, but this person (?) is not the target for his unhappiness.
In fact, he seems rather nice. Also calm.
Ned hones in on that, and while he does not literally feed off of it, it reminds him of his own general practice he had only moments before committed himself to: relax. Things will make sense. Somehow. Keep your head on straight. I am Ned. I bake pies and wake the dead. I am Ned.
He blinks for the umpteenth time and then rubs at his eyes with the heels of his hands. Something about that gesture helps further instill his old calmness and when he lowers his hands to his sides his expression is much softer, at ease for the time being. Not quite a switch, but a decision is a decision. Panic when it makes sense and right now it doesn't. ]
You don't need to be sorry.
[ Without the stranger having said it explicitly, it was clear enough in his tone and if nothing else, Ned has no intention of making undeserving parties apologize to him. The change in Ned has a subtlety to it, the way reverting to one's everyday self tends to contain: like shoulders slipping down out of a hunch or a breath releasing. His smile still seems ruffled but less anxious, less wild animal looking to bolt. ]