Saryn of Elisia

by StarAndrea

  “Sure it is,” Lyris said. “If he’s reading their minds because he’s bonded to me, then he hasn’t necessarily been lying to everyone his whole life. How isn’t that better?”

  “Wow,” Timmin said. He didn’t elaborate, but Kris did it for him.

  “Are you going to alternate between supportive and bitter indefinitely?” Kris wanted to know. “I try to fire him, you get upset. I try to help him, you get upset. What do you want us to do?”

  “I don’t know,” Lyris said. “If I did, I’d already be doing it, believe me.”

  Kris studied him for a long moment before turning her attention back to Saryn. “What do you want us to do?” she asked.

  “I want you to invoke common privacy and refuse to answer the question,” Saryn said. “I’ve said I’m newly bonded. I prefer not to name my partner. In my experience, this is not unheard of.”

  “Not unheard of,” Kris repeated, looking at Jenna and then at Lyris again. “But unusual.”

  “Everything that’s happened to me in the last two days has been unusual,” Saryn said. “I am within my rights to request privacy. Jenna and Lyris are under no obligation to support or deny implications that may arise from such a request.”

  Jenna shrugged, her hand still in his. “I’ll play,” she offered. “If Lyris is okay with it.”

  On his other side, Lyris shook his head. “I don’t have any better ideas if you’re determined to stay invisible,” he said. “But I’m not going to lie about anything I can do.”

  “I’m not asking anyone to lie,” Saryn said.

  “You’re asking us to deceive everyone,” Lyris countered. “What’s the difference?”

  “Technically we offered,” Kris pointed out. “Saryn didn’t ask for anything except our silence.”

  “This is unlikely to be the thing you alter my stance on,” Saryn told him. “I am willing to make other compromises. I suggest you take advantage of what I will do rather than focusing only on what I will not.”

  “Says the negotiator,” Jenna remarked. “What if the thing he wants you to do is the only thing that matters?”

  “I’m not interested in hypothetical scenarios,” Saryn said. “If Lyris is unwilling to work with me unless I declare myself an empath, then we are at an impasse.”

  “He said he is,” Kris said. “Let’s not have the whole argument again. You say you’re bonded to someone you don’t want to name, and the rest of us won’t name anyone.”

  “Can I imply that it’s me?” Jenna wanted to know. He thought she was more entertained by the idea than anything else, and it was a passing thought but she knew it would come up. “If I don’t actually lie?”

  “Deliberately deceiving people will fall under Lyris’ definition of a lie,” Saryn reminded her.

  “Saryn asked around about your New Hope trade complaint when we were in the Council building,” Timmin said unexpectedly. “I don’t think you’re going to have to imply much of anything.”

  “Did you?” Jenna gave him an assessing look, but she was still holding his hand and he could tell she was pleased.

  “Well, you wouldn't tell me,” Saryn said. “I thought perhaps it was so obvious someone else would know. They didn't,” he added. “If you're curious.”

  “Is whoever you asked from New Hope?” Jenna countered.

  “No,” Saryn said. “I wasn't aware that only residents of New Hope would know what went wrong during a social movement that encompassed the entire planet.”

  “You would have been if you’d asked me,” Jenna said.

  “I did ask you!” Saryn exclaimed. “I asked you several times, if you recall.”

  “Great,” Kris interrupted. “Act like that long enough and people will probably stop asking altogether. Considering you spent the night together, it’s possible you look more married than Timmin and I do.”

  “They still ask us,” Timmin told her.

  “You pretend we're not speaking on a regular basis,” Kris said. “Of course they ask us.”

  “Are we done?” Lyris wanted to know.

  “No,” Kris said. “We're getting something to eat.”

  “Sounded like a yes to me,” Timmin said.

  “Lyris,” Saryn said, “given that I already have one remarkably challenging pseudo-partner, is there anything I can do to avoid being that person for you?”

  Jenna didn’t let that pass. He hadn’t expected her to, but he did wonder if her ability to anticipate him when they were in physical contact was significantly different than Lyris’ constant awareness of everything about him. The result was inconclusive, but she did speak first.

  “If I'm challenging, you're impossible,” Jenna said. “He's already told you what you can do and you refused. You should be so lucky to be the me in your relationship with him.”

  “Was that question directed at you?” Lyris asked, with a veneer of politeness that was shocking for everything it hid.

  “Were you going to answer it?” Jenna countered.

  “Not until I know who he was talking to,” Lyris said. “I don’t appreciate being the subject of your experiments just because you think it’s easier than actually asking what you want to know.”

  That gave Jenna pause, but Lyris was looking at him and she followed his gaze before she asked, “Okay, should I assume that wasn’t directed at me? Follow-up question, is there any way to know who’s talking to who when two of you aren’t speaking out loud?”

  “Saryn,” Kris began.

  He looked at her, but she just looked back like she had no idea why. She said nothing else, and it occurred to him that she might not have said anything at all. She clearly held him responsible for the situation. It was less clear that she was currently attempting to intervene.

  “She didn’t say anything,” Lyris muttered.

  That was alarming in its implications. “I’m not prepared to hear everyone’s thoughts in my head,” Saryn said. He knew the emphasis on “everyone” came through whether he meant it to or not, but he did manage not to say, yours are disconcerting enough.

  Unfortunately he had no doubt Lyris heard it anyway.

  “You’re probably not hearing her thoughts,” Lyris said. “You noticed her focus and interpreted it as her saying your name.”

  “How do you seem to know everything I experience?” Saryn wanted to know. It was a desperate sort of curiosity that he had to give voice to before Kris actually did interrupt them, and he hoped Lyris could tell it was less a challenge and more a genuine request for information.

  “That’s basically the definition of being bonded to an empath,” Lyris said. “Fun, isn’t it.”

  Saryn considered that, from the way Lyris said it to what he carefully wasn’t saying, which was that he must be in exactly the same situation. “It’s certainly distracting,” he said at last. That was perhaps the most neutral thing he could say, up to and including denying that the phenomenon existed at all.

  “Yeah,” Lyris said. That was it. He didn’t ask for anything else, and Saryn thought maybe silence was the most comfortable choice after all.

  “Great,” Kris said after a moment. “I’m going to hear that as agreement and walk away, since I have no idea what to tell either of you to do at this point. I’m going to stow my flight suit before we eat; no one quit before then.”

  “I’ll join you,” Jenna said. “Not quitting,” she added, when Kris looked at her. “Just leaving the flight suit.”

  “I need to shut down some RAV systems,” Timmin said. “But only if you don’t need a chaperone. Or moral support, or a witness. Any of the above.”

  He was looking at Lyris when he said it.

  “I’m fine,” Lyris said. The glance he gave Saryn indicated he would have said “we’re fine” but was doing him the courtesy of not speaking for him, even when Timmin clearly would have accepted it.

  Saryn nodded, and Lyris’ expression lightened perceptibly.

  “Saryn,” Kris said. Out loud, this time. “Just… he�
��s trying to help you. Assuming you don’t annoy him so much he literally moves to another planet to get away from you.”

  He wasn’t sure there was anything he could say in response that wouldn’t offend someone, but so far they seemed relatively forgiving of missteps. “I will endeavor to be worthy of the effort,” Saryn said at last.

  Kris’ expression crinkled in a way that said she was trying not to smile. “Which one?” she asked. “The help, or the moving?”

  “The help,” Saryn told her. “We’ve already established that I’m worth moving away from.”

  Lyris folded his arms, but he didn’t deny it. Timmin looked from one of them to the other before he said, “All right. See you at breakfast.”

  Kris did smile when she looked at him, and Timmin winked in return. For a moment Saryn was surprised by the echo between them: the sense that what one felt, the other reflected. He wondered if it was only because he knew they resonated that he imagined it now.

  Then Jenna was untangling her fingers from his, and her steady silence was reassuring. When she let go, she seemed no different than she had when he first met her. When he first remembered meeting her, at least. She was calm and easy and brilliant in her focus.

  She did give him a look before she stepped away, and for the first time he found himself questioning how he knew what it meant. The look was intended as a final check, an inquiry into his well-being and offer of her assistance if he wanted it. It said, Okay? as clearly as though she’d said it aloud.

  She didn’t say it aloud, though, and the look was just that: a look. Would anyone have known what it meant? Or did he truly have some advantage in its interpretation that he took for granted?

  “Thank you,” he murmured, and she smiled in return.

  Kris had waited for Jenna to join her before leaving the launch bay, and Saryn thought their publicity potential together was significant. They walked in sync without appearing to try or even to notice, and they spoke easily, if quietly. He expected it was only due to the enhancers that he could make out their conversation at all.

  Lyris was waiting for him to speak. He wanted to leave and he didn’t want to leave at the same time. It was strange how much of Saryn’s attention he took up when there was nothing else to focus on.

  Lyris didn’t disagree. He was experiencing the same push-pull of intrusively shared awareness while floundering in the void of misunderstanding. He was overwhelmed, and frustrated, and he didn’t know how to react to Saryn anymore than Saryn knew how to react to him.

  “I forget,” Saryn said quietly, “that much of this is new to you as well.”

  Lyris’ incredulous response was immediate, but he didn’t give voice to it. If Saryn heard him think, Try all of it, he still waited for Lyris to breathe and reorder his thoughts.

  “I forget how careful you must be,” Lyris said evenly, “about looking like you know what you’re doing.”

  Saryn had to smile. “Yes,” he admitted. “Projected confidence is habitual and highly valued in my line of work. Regardless of the foundation that may or may not underlie it.”

  “That makes it harder for me to believe,” Lyris began, then stopped. “You act like you know what you’re doing. That makes it feel like--everything is deliberate, somehow.”

  He didn’t continue, but finally Saryn understood what he meant. “Like I’m upsetting you on purpose,” he said.

  “Like you’re manipulating me,” Lyris said. “Like you manipulate everyone else.”

  He was sure Lyris knew that his first reaction was denial. But he had let Lyris find different words, and Lyris returned the courtesy. Saryn wasn’t sure that being able to speak calmly to each other was a significant achievement when they could demonstrably read each other’s minds, but perhaps it was at least forward progress.

  “If you believe I’m deliberately manipulating anyone,” Saryn said at last, “then I hope you will correct me when I suggest this: is it possible you hold some of the same misapprehensions about my line of work that I have about empaths in general?”

  Lyris surprised him by not hesitating. “Yes,” he said. “You mean, you think empaths lie and I think…” He waved at Saryn in an imprecise way. “Government representatives lie?”

  “Empath” was at least as ambiguous as “government representative,” so Saryn didn’t correct him. “That’s what I meant,” he agreed.

  “Yeah,” Lyris repeated. “I planned how to approach you based on a balance of power I thought you’d respect. When you responded to it, I assumed that meant I was right.”

  Saryn tried not to smile, because Lyris didn’t seem amused. “Did you consider the possibility that I was responding to you, more than to your strategy?”

  “Sure,” Lyris said, and he did smile but it wasn’t sincere. “Then you showed up with Jenna, and I decided probably not.”

  Saryn studied him. “I apologize in advance if this is awkward,” he said, “but you did tell me to simply ask what I want to know.”

  Lyris sighed. “I know what you’re going to say.”

  Saryn raised his eyebrows. “Would you prefer I not ask?”

  “No.” The smile that tugged at the corners of Lyris’ mouth looked more real than the expression he’d worn a moment before. “You should ask. Or I should just tell you.”

  “Perhaps both,” Saryn said. “The question is less useful without the answer. Do you have any desire to consider a romantic relationship with me?”

  Lyris did smile at that, and it looked like a combination of relief and embarrassment. “Oh,” he said, “I’ve considered it. We're definitely past the ‘should I think about this or not’ stage.”

  When he didn’t continue, and Saryn didn't want to guess what he might say, he asked, “Have you reached any conclusions? Or is this consideration ongoing?” Lyris didn’t seem to feel negatively about it, but he also seemed too calm to be particularly invested either way.

  “I don’t want to be your lover,” Lyris said, which was… not as definitive as Saryn expected, all things considered.

  “I don’t feel that completely addresses the question,” Saryn said.

  Lyris studied him, and for whatever reason, Saryn was sure that surprised him.

  “It doesn’t,” Lyris said warily. “But… it’s a conclusion I’ve reached? So it’s relevant.”

  “Jenna requested we remove the requirement for relevance,” Saryn reminded him. Largely because he didn't know what to say, but he did know how to keep a conversation going. “I personally appreciate your effort.”

  “Well,” Lyris said. “I appreciate you recognizing a distinction between romance and physicality. In light of that, I'm revisiting my consideration of our compatibility.”

  “I think we have a great deal of potential,” Saryn told him. “You've noticed we can read each other's minds?”

  Lyris smiled, but he said, “That's less of a factor than most people think.”

  “Is it,” Saryn said. He didn’t make it a question, because he didn’t require an answer. But he was interested in the statement. “What about the determined effort of all involved parties?”

  Lyris studied him, and it was fascinating to feel both his comprehension and speculation as he mind leaped past the first question to the second and third. “Is that a factor?” Lyris asked, confirming the words aloud even as he was already processing their implications. “People trying, you mean?”

  “Yes,” Saryn said. “Do you think I’m able to make an effort that will significantly affect our outcome.”

  “That’s really another question,” Lyris said, but he looked like he wanted to smile again. “Do I think people can initiate a successful relationship just by trying really hard, and do I think you specifically are capable of doing it with me.”

  “I accept that,” Saryn agreed. “Although if your answer to the second question is yes, then I can assume that answers the first question as well.”

  “Well, I can be efficient,” Lyris said. “Yes. I think you’re
capable of convincing me. With relatively little effort, I’m embarrassed to say.”

  “I find that encouraging,” Saryn said. “Especially considering my continued mistakes in so many aspects of our interaction.”

  Lyris shrugged, and everything Saryn could observe about him said he was exactly as unconcerned by the reminder as he appeared. “I find you unexpectedly frustrating,” he said. “But worth it.”

  He didn’t say it out loud, but the words hung in the air between them nonetheless: so far.

  Saryn gave voice to them. “So far,” he said, and Lyris did smile this time.

  “Everything we know about anything is ‘so far,’” he said.

  Not a warning, then. Probably.

  “I’m interested in discussing the possibilities of such a relationship,” Saryn said. “You’re aware, of course, that I’m currently involved with Jenna. Do you consider or expect this to be a problem?”

  Lyris was very aware of their “involvement,” if not the so-far casual nature of it. The awareness was clearly affecting his expectations, but all he said was, “Only if it is for her.”

  “I’ll need to discuss it with her,” Saryn said. “May I share what you and I have discussed on the subject?”

  “I’d be disappointed if you didn’t,” Lyris said.

  He was very calm, and although Saryn certainly didn't prefer his anger, he did miss the mischievous effect of Lyris’ attempts to plan or predict other people’s reactions. His own included.

  “May I touch you again?” Saryn asked abruptly. He didn't know how unexpected it had to be to take Lyris by surprise, but he liked the way Lyris blinked.

  “Are you… sure that's a good idea?”Lyris asked at last. “Jenna was pretty helpful last time.”

  “Don't worry about me this time,” Saryn suggested. “You told me to stay calm. Surely you can do the same.”

  “Oh, sure,” Lyris said. “It's nice that you think I'm just naturally good at all of this, but staying calm actually isn't one of my strong points. That's the other reason I don't answer questions. Staying quiet is a good substitute for staying calm sometimes.”