Kaelie/The Secret

The front door opens fast, banging against the wall before the sheer inertia of it slams it closed behind her. She turns to glare at it like the implication of the SLAM was the door telling her she was wrong to take out her frustrations on the aged oak door. "Sure even you want to imply my frustrations are invalid."

Snatching the gweth off she hurls it at the silver-laced granite fireplace, with a smirk that says "can't even get that right' as the gweth falls shy of the blazing fire and lays on the floor. It also has feelings. "Maybe you should hand me to Dantia when you are that angry." She looks away from it and pours a bottle of wine into a decanter and drinks straight from that while pacing around the house looking like she is getting ready to cast the sorcerous magic Fire Ball and let it all burn to ash. Her eyes roll at herself because the realization that she is shaking and that makes the task of getting good and drunk on this wine very difficult. She sits and tries to calm. One good thing about her blinding rage, she cannot feel anything but that. If the Guard didn't do anything about that dormant infection, she is unware, because all that matters is she not cast IZ.

Using the boot jack to remove her boots, not even giving notice to the dirt that now decorates her floor. The least of the things happening in her here and now that needs to be addressed. With a more steady hand she drinks from the carafe and puts it, perhaps a little to hard, back on the table. A good sign because she is calming down and will be ready to roll back things said under controlled feelings to make sure that she takes ownership of her words. If that means apologizing for how they were said and the circumstances they were said under, she will do that. Musing quietly, her hand tightens around the neck of the carafe dangerously close to shattering it and spilling out precious wine, "You know better than that. What were you thinking really isn't a question now is it? Because the answer is everybody knows what you were thinking and that is one hundred percent your fault, Elf. So unable to rein yourself in, you just made sure anyone listening knows now that the one thing you didn't want out there, is probably now going to be out there. But the pretty good news on that note is that narrative that you heard is that you were not named, and in fact, makes all but the teller seem like the rest of you were just there and the outcome of what happened was his glory to have."

She drinks again from the carafe, a slower sip, savoring the taste. There it is. The Guard had the infection taken. It's time she can reflect and see her part, and make sure that she isn't "misunderstanding". She inhales as the rage dies off, the health needs of the people around Crossing tapping into her empathic nature. She brings the carafe to her lips and whispers over the top of it, "Thank Faenella I have Dantia. Here's to you my dearest friend, and a true sister." lifting the decanter just a bit she gives and nod and takes another good sip.

The white kitten rubs at her ankle, glancing down she address her audience. "So, first off. You have made some really bad judgement errors, some knee-jerk reactions that were cringe worthy, done things that at the end of they day made you toss and turn a few more minutes than you would have liked. Is what happened with this group one of those things?" She nudges the kitten as it bites her toes. "Did my initial response cloud rational reasoning and hide the truth of the situation from me?" She makes the effort to open her mind and assess these things, understanding even her culpability in this new rift.

The group of friends formed years ago, and allowing all the knowledge of things said or implied over the years fall into place the realization of it doesn't particularly bother her now, because she rather suspected it at the time. Mazrian is who they placed the value in, she was allowed in because it would ensure his participation. She went to most of the meetings. She also said very little in them, that could have given the impression she had no real desire to be involved when in actuality she was pretty sure no matter what she offered it would be rather nodded at and given little value to what the most would decide. "I might have taken a more active role and made them understand my every involvement doesn't have to be about how much empathy will I gain from it." So there is some blame to share in that area.

A visible look flashes across her face. She says the words out loud, making sure she can hear them. "You should have left when you felt that you were complicit in making an apology for your feelings. Accepting that YOU misunderstood the situation and should accept that being forgotten and told that the loud and clear gweth to at least get information to the group depending on you was somehow not heard and that absolves people from having to care how you felt. In fact, you were berated on your inability to hear the excuses formed and not just acquiesce that you were responsible now for making someone feel bad and that was a character flaw. You apologized and took a mental note. That's on you."

Her tone takes on a more chiding tone, "You broke the rule." Not everyone has to follow the rule, this is hers. Don't speak, think, or act when anger will not allow your words to sound rational or your actions to be seen as non reactionary. "That is, again, all on you." She thinks back, now calm, to the exchanges that followed. "Again, I am told that I am misunderstanding the situation. The group collective "we" decided what was being held in secret for so long was ok to be shared, the acknowledgement given that I wasn't at the meeting, a clear indication that my feelings on that not considered." She feels that anger rise again. She recalls her voice out loud as the story was about to be told to her horror because it was, to her, still a thing she had not shared. "Can we not turn that stone over right now?" She is SURE she said that out loud. "I didn't hear you and the excuse is this." The resentment that she feels she is owed some measure of understanding rings loud and clear. As a plus one you don't get to expect that. "Some lessons you need to learn twice, Elf, this one won't require a third time." The effort will be hers to not hold ill will towards the party group because she knew in her heart what the situation was. An afterthought will always be just that.

She upends the carafe and finishes off the rest of the wine. Her voice taking on a light tone, as if telling the end lines of a great story, "So the plus one stole a bottle of booze and left the party. Pretty certain she wouldn't be missed, and very certain she didn't have to accept an excuse for an apology ever again, and dipped off to find the people she knew placed value in her."