ruinations | adsom: reunions

Neria's eyes had closed. Under other circumstances, she might have seemed asleep, for all that peace had finally come up to claim her. But she was listening to him, to his heart and to his thoughts, and it was only then that she rifled through them with exquisite care. She looked only through the surface thoughts and found what was to be expected: worry for Rhy, for the kingdom. Confusion, that Neria was there at all. Relief.

She felt his mouth brush her thumb. It was a briefly electrifying sensation and she turned her head, looking at him. There, she felt a brief flash of uncertainty again...and she realized the cause.

Her presence wrapped around him again, bracing him for something unwanted. Her hand reached up, brushing stray strands of hair from his eyes.

"They're not mine," she said softly. She sighed. "A great deal has happened since you went home. We're all changing."

Kell opened his eyes again as Neria shifted, coming back to earth. He'd felt her going through his mind, his questions, though he knew better than to ask them all at once.

As she opened those unnaturally blue eyes again, however, he felt that same squeeze in his chest, the uncertainty that seemed so misplaced when it came to her.

(And with the brush of her fingers came a twist of pain, Hakkyuu so often pushed his hair back, encouraging him not to hide-)

"What do you mean when you say they're not yours?"

"I mean that they're not mine. They're Symon's." She sat up somewhat, but didn't pull away from him. She frowned again and though her expression was one of melancholy, it did not seem to soften the sharpness of her gaze.

Briefly, she pushed her hair back with her fingers. One hand lingered over an eye, as if trying to cover it. Neria frowned.

"...The second test, Kell. We were given trials to test to see if we could succeed and be worthy of godhood. Symon's was to give everything of himself. He gave his eyes to me, that I might see with better clarity some of the truths of the world."

Symon's.

Inside his heart as she was, she'd be able to feel the recoil, like the fur lifting on a cat, teeth bared. The hard, protective fury he drew on to keep those close to him safe, the same rage on that battlefield the day he'd stood over her, fighting off anything that dared come close.

"He never saw the truth better than anyone else." Kell practically growled it. "And he never gave anything that didn't gain him something."

She felt it. Knew it was coming, too. Neria only frowned, though she did not move to defend Symon. "He'll attain godhood through giving. So you aren't wrong in that regard." If he'd had the chance, she imagined Symon would have happily traded her for her own trial, and she'd have been the one left giving all of herself until there was nothing left.

It wouldn't have bothered her, in hindsight.

"But he sees things a certain way, as do I. But my perception is filtered through what I know of people and understanding them emotionally. He...can't."

You will be better at this than I ever was.

It chilled her, still. Kell would feel the tension, the sudden feeling of being ill at ease, closing off again. But she pushed through, tried to relax. It was Kell. She was safe here.

"He can't, or he won't?"

After he said it, Kell pressed his lips together, forming a hard, stubborn line -- but went quiet, because he could feel her drawing back. There was more here, far more. But she hadn't come to him for a lecture... and Neria already knew how he felt, knew everything he would say.

She wasn't stupid. She never had been. Willing to forgive far more than Kell, but then again, when it came the well-being of someone he cared about Kell was difficult to convince and quick to bare his teeth.

"What do they do?"

"Can't. He doesn't know how. Several people have grown to love Symon Graves because he is a fire, drawing moths to his warmth. But Symon knows very little of how to properly care and love someone, to understand their emotional idiosyncrasies. And his love is a cruel thing." She knew that first-hand, in seeing the aftermath...and watching him with Waver.

Neria loosed a quiet breath. "I know those things, though, even if I can't say I draw people to me in the same fashion." There was something clinical about the way she said it. Quiet, matter-of-fact. To his question, though, she frowned further. "They...just let me see things in a detached manner, I suppose. As he might. Nothing emotional about it. That's why it's--"

More and more, that voice sounded less like Symon and more like herself. She sighed, pulled herself closer to him. "They've helped me focus better, if nothing else."

Kell pressed a slow breath out between his teeth, but said nothing more. Neria knew the flames perhaps better than anyone. Nothing she said particularly relaxed him, but even if she had Symon's eyes, she still had her own heart and mind. A way of seeing was not a way of being.

As Neria pressed closer to him, Kell closed his arms around her, and shook away the linger, crawling feeling he'd gotten when she said his name.

The eyes may have once been Symon's, but they now belonged to her.

"You found the Herald, then?"

It had been Kell's last act there, his last gesture, getting everyone he could to the sea, where it would begin and end. He'd known it wouldn't be pretty.

Neria leaned into his warmth again, as selfish as it might have been. There was a sensation of gratitude tucked there, deep into his mind and heart; it swelled with the love she had for him with a flame of its own, which she used to keep the both of them warm. She felt the tension in him. Her arms wrapped around him in turn, comfortable here with him again.

"We did. All of us did, all but Grell...but she's been gone for a tick. Wouldn't surprise me if she's gone to look." And as Grell did not have the makings of divinity, her ability to find the Herald might be compromised.

"We found her in the sea and she gave us each a trial. The others are hard at work with theirs but it's..."

How did she make him understand what had happened? The loss, all of her torn away? The thought that she would lose everyone else to the cacophony of their changes?

It was clear she struggled with knowing what to say. Softly, she murmured, "I feel like we're all breaking apart, being stripped down to nothing. Being forced to do things we never wanted to do."

If it was selfish to enjoy touch, then they both were.

Kell half-shut his eyes, felt the shift of her feelings over his, how closely they dovetailed. Kell was the sort of man often shut off from others, but he was no stranger to loving someone, and when he did, he did so wholly and unafraid.

Perhaps he did not define it so clearly as others might, but he felt it all the same.

As Kell settled to listen, he understood the words, but it was the emotions that rolled through Neria that told the real story. He could not understand the source of the hopeless, powerless fear and deep seated pain, but-

"What is the purpose of that?" he asked. "Breaking you down, making you unlike yourselves?"

"I think we're being given tasks that force us to be our opposites...in the hopes to teach us to be rounded gods, able to make difficult decisions. Able to do what we might detest doing if it means keeping the world safe." She looked up at him again. "There's no guarantee all of us will survive or succeed. So...in that sense, if we are all one-note gods, then we'll be shoddy fucking pantheon in the end.

"We all need to be able to do what's necessary, for better or worse."

But the pain was still there. And perhaps it wouldn't make much sense, if the idea of being rounded seemed simple enough. At the core, though, was what Neria feared most: becoming monstrous, as she had always known she was capable. Further still, was the realization - "I fear what we will become, and how these trials will cut deep down into the core of us. And I worry we will come back so changed that we won't recognize each other any longer."

Kell could not help but feel venom at the very idea of it, because the moment she described it, he knew what his trial would have been shaped by. What it would mean to be unlike himself -- and all the more, what it would mean to be unlike Neria.

"The Herald wants you to hurt someone."

He said it with utter and complete certainty.

If it was possible for her to be smaller, she would in that moment. Instead, it felt more as if she was tucking herself closer inside of his heart, burrowing herself, that she might vanish and not be seen again.

But Neria's gaze was focused on his shoulder, that she might not look him completely in the eye. It lasted several moments.

Then, "I was told to kindle True Faith in someone who loves me...and then to ask them to die for me, as I died for the world." Slowly, she looked up at him. "And as I cannot kill those who love me, even if I had wish to, I must find people. Make them love me, make them have unshakable faith in me. And then, when they are primed and ready, I must ask them to kill themselves for me."

There was so much wrong with it. That she must manipulate and lie; that she must be selfish; that she must twist a person so tightly that they cannot imagine living without her.

All for her, when she'd never felt worthy enough before. Why would this change any of that, beyond making her loathe everything she was and would be?

Hatred, rough and breathless, poured over Kell's nerves, tingling slowly as the reality settled. It could be nothing else. Of course it could be nothing else.

Kell thought of the night in the front, of Antheia's hand in his chest, of his choice back then. He had given his life, not as Neria had for Asora, but for Rhy. For Rhy, and for his own selfishness. For his own wish to keep him alive.

"That does not sound like a decision that would make you a rounded god," Kell whispered, not bothering to curb his harshness, or the emotional wellspring that came with it.

"Nor does Symon's. Even if you manage to complete the trial, it will have only caused you pain. Symon's overall gain would be far more than what he will have lost."

Kell set his jaw.

"Magic takes a price- this sounds like a toll. And if said toll is the suffering of would-be gods, then what is it feeding?"

It was difficult to argue with Kell. Not because she was tired, or that she did not want to spend her time with him bickering; those were true, of course, but not the crux of it.

It was difficult because Kell was right.

Neria felt the burst of anger, the emotion. She did not try to quell it. Instead, she settled with it, with that ache and that burn, and let it wash over her.

"I imagine it feeds Asora. We are building faith in some manner. Gods can create mana by existing but only if they are strong enough. And they do not become stronger without followers and faith." But Kell would feel the unasked question: if that's true, then why am I killing the people who would follow me?

She left it at that, though. Neria shook her head. "Perhaps it's feeding us in other ways. You speak of tolls, and some of these... Some people are taking their fees from others. I am, unfortunately." Something else shimmered, pained. Neria pushed it aside.

Softly, she said, "I'm glad you left. It's... I never cared what it would ask of me, what this path would demand of my flesh or my soul. I care how it hurts the others, how it hurts the people of the world. And you--" Her voice caught. "It's hard enough watching him suffer. If I had to see you go through the same, or Rhy, or Hakkyuu..." And there was anger there, at long last, beneath all of the hurt and the exhaustion.

"If I had to sit here, powerless, while the world demanded more and more of you and the others... Asora asked too much."

"A world that demands suffering and lifeblood as tribute."

Tieren would call it dangerously out of balance, and Kell would be hard-pressed not to agree entirely. Life and magic were two sides of the same coin, but why place a value on suffering?

Kell went silent again, fuming, let her own tangle of emotions wash through his own, catching and snagging, matching, creating friction. She was not the discomfort here.

If Neria had to sit here, silent, watching-

"Something else happened."

It was easier to focus on him. Always was. He would feel the way Neria tried to place that attention back on him, perhaps lapse into the easier task of seeing to his own emotions and not her own.

Neria went very still.

Once more, she didn't meet his gaze. And then, she pulled away very slowly, with great reluctance. She did not move very far from the circle of his arms, just enough to pick at the tunic and pull it up and over her head. Pulled away, the branded whorls that ran from her left shoulder and over her breast, hidden by the band around her body, would be obvious. A parting mark from her time in the dungeons.

That wasn't what she wanted to show him.

Over her heart was the imprint of a skeletal hand. And in the palm were Murphy's clan markings in the shape of jaws. It thrummed with divinity, burning, and seemed to have its own life to it.

Neria did not look at it. Slowly, her eyes met Kell's. She said nothing.

Had the mood not been so very heavy and raw, Kell might have questioned why Neria was disrobing, but he recalled that time in her tent, the reveal of the scar over his own heart, and even before it was revealed, it was where his eyes were drawn.

Kell's heart skipped a beat.

Thinking nothing of propriety, he reached out to lay his own long fingers over the marks, as if he could overlay that touch, lift it up and off her skin with will alone. Beneath his fingers the magic was tangled, alien, a power that made his skin crawl when he touched it too directly. He did not pull away.

"... what did she do?"

There was magic around both scars. The first, around her arm and breast, had been cleansed of the fire Kaevir had put into them. Now, they pulsed softly with the Dark. Neria's Dark, safe and sound, utilizing the branding for her own. But the other, as he could sense, was foreign and strange.

Kell would sense what it was if he looked a bit harder. It wasn't difficult to recognize the binding for what it was.

"She took my magic. All of it from home. My healing," and here her voice caught again, for her healing was hers, her identity -- "She took my Arcane and my elemental magic. All of it, every scrap from Thedas. Too it and bound it to herself. It..." Her throat closed up.

Neria's eyes were no longer blue. They were a moonlight-silver.

And only once Symon's eyes were cast off did the tears start. They fell down her cheeks before she even realized they'd sprung up. They dripped off her jaw and onto her hands, pooled in her lap.

"Like before. Back there, in the dungeon, in the dark." Her heart was beating too fast as she remembered. Neria closed her eyes and saw it. She opened them again. "In that fucking room where they...where he--" Burned her. Brutalized her. Made her into an animal. Made her weak and powerless. "And she took it from me, like they did."

Edited 2018-04-05 06:25 (UTC)

Limiters--

No, more than a limiter. This was far worse than a chain keeping her contained. Horrified, Kell took his hand from her chest, reached up to touch her cheek, where the tears were too much to be contained by his fingers.

God-magic. Powerful, binding, but...

Gritting his teeth, Kell stared at the markings as if he could burn them off of her.

"Why?"

"It's her trial, I--" Already the words were stilted, as if she couldn't truly trust or believe them. "She said the Herald told her to destroy me. To bind me. And Murphy told me she refused."

Stupid. Neria had been so stupid to trust it. She put her face briefly in her hands and her shoulders gave a single shudder, as if she might begin to sob in earnest. Somehow, she did not. "She told me she refused and...and said she wanted to give me something to help me with mine. All I kept thinking was that I-- I wanted her to stay with us. To stay with me." Everyone was slipping from her grasp.

She wiped at her tears with the heels of her hands. "I didn't want to take it but she insisted. And...she didn't give anything. She simply plumbed me of what was mine and bound me." Neria gestured. "And then she went off and did the same thing to Archer. Bound his will like a Servant to her whim."

What worth was it, to be gods, if they gave up everything good about themselves? Everything that made them worthwhile?

Kell reached into his pocket, brought out the black square of cloth that had been stained with blood so many times over the years, and pressed it into Neria's fingers.

It didn't reconcile -- the Murphy who had called him Salroka, who had been so insistent that she owed him a debt, and would not be denied. His throat threatened to close as he struggled to find a reason, and could not.

"... her trial. It was binding others?"

Edited 2018-04-06 03:38 (UTC)

"She told me it was to bind me. To destroy me." Kell pushed the fabric into her hand and she looked at it a moment, as if uncertain what it was. She did not use it to dry her eyes. Instead, she simply clutched it, her thumb rubbing across the soft fabric.

Neria forced herself to breathe, just a few steadying breaths.

"I assume that's her trial. Why... I don't know. I know why I've been given my trial. For her--" She looked up at the ceiling, as if she could find the answers there. "To betray? To...bind people, as I kept her in collar?" Kell would know the thought before it even formed: Is all of this my fault?

She never gave voice to it. Her fingers curled in the fabric he gave her. "I don't know."

Kell was silent, a foul taste in his mouth, knowing it didn't and wouldn't add up. Murphy could not do something so awful without a reason, especially to Neria.

He lifted Neria's hand, the cloth between her fingers, and touched it to her face.

"Murphy came to me after the battle, the one in which you nearly fell. To thank me for keeping you safe. She swore a debt to me; said that she owed it to me... because you were important to her."

Kell leaned in, catching her eyes, meeting them, his voice firm, rough at the edges.

"You did not bind her any more than Hakkyuu bound me. You did not keep her in a collar, they did. You are the one it would have hurt her most to do this to."

His words hurt, cut her deeper than they should have. Neria stared at Kell, long and hard, with a wide-eyed sort of disbelief. Even back then, Murphy felt she was important. Neria remembered Murphy coming into the tent with her injuries, the both of them embracing. And she had sworn a debt to Kell--

The lines didn't match up. It twisted her heart deep in her chest and she felt another sting of utter agony at the loss.

"I deserved it," she whispered, almost too low to be audible. "I deserved it for allowing it to continue. I should have refused her. I should have asked for her to be set free." She closed her eyes. "We were together one night, when I sent Archer away. I wanted... I wanted--" Her thoughts were spinning without a place to catch on. She curled in on herself, looking so much smaller, fingers slipping into her hair. "I always lose things when I try to be selfish."

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