ruinations | adsom: reunions

Neria grasped the feeling Kell had lived with all his life instinctively, the one he'd never been able to adequantely express to others. Rhy had grown up knowing him as simply Kell, but despite seeing how others looked at him, he was only learning the gulf between them and other people now.

As she went silent, Kell squeezed her hand, but said nothing, as if to reassure her. She had not made a mistake. She'd done precisely what she should have, just as the guard had.

"Not often," he answered. "Thankfully."

The weight of it hung between them a moment, and Kell thought of leaving it at that, of not acknowledging it. With another person he might not have.

"The threat of me alone is usually sufficient. Few would dare attack the royal family, but there have been several attempts in my lifetime."

There were questions. Neria seemed pensive, a prowling thing, uncertain how to approach it. Kell would feel something simmering within her as she tried to find words. She squeezed his hand and remained silent until he was finished.

"Several attempts."

The first question, unasked, was when did this start? But deeper, still, was a different sort of inquiry.

"You are the only one who defends them? It's just you?"

Kell waited for the questions to come, feeling the silence like a wall, a place she'd gone in her thoughts that he could not follow. He saw this particular part of his duty as utterly necessary, and whether the liked it immaterial.

"No," he answered, "not by far. There are layers upon layers of security, but I am a part of it, and Rhy has always been my main priority.

"Had I not been here, the priests of the sanctuary itself would have acted in my stead. But I could handle it with minimal risk."

Kell finished the sentence, and felt... strange. Removed, given all they'd seen. What had been done to them.

"With Holland dead, no single person alive in any of the Londons could have a hope of challenging me in a fair fight."

... short of Neria herself.

Layers upon layers, but Kell was probably the last line of defense...and the most powerful. Knowing there were others did not quite loosen the knot in her chest. Kell had always told her he wasn't a prince, even when Rhy called him brother and called him loved.

Kell was a bodyguard, bound to Rhy and bound to the castle. And even though Rhy loved him, loved him as if they shared the same blood - and they did now, she supposed - she had to wonder...

But it wasn't right to ask.

Instead, she relented somewhat. Let him back inside but kept those things locked away for the moment, where they could ruminate without troubling Kell. Leaning up a little, she almost bumped his head with hers, cat-like. "So long as no one else slips through the fissure between worlds. There is a door back there, you will recall." Immund never said if it was one use. "When I go back, I'll make certain it's closed. Or destroyed."

Edited 2018-04-14 23:09 (UTC)

"There is," Kell admitted, and closed one eye as she bumped into him, and along their connection came a flicker of pleasure, the hint of a smile that didn't show in his face, but did in his eyes.

"And destroyed would be best," he admitted. Best not have anyone making anything so powerful, or making use of it. His world was prepared for threats, but not of that magnitude.

"But you did not come here through the door, did you?"

Destroyed, then. She'd slip in to Aallotar when the time was right to tear the door down. So long as she was quick, so long as she could dismantle the magic, she could get in and out without too many repercussions. Immund could hate her for it later, but if this could be the final gift she gave Kell, she'd do it gladly.

To his question, she shook her head. "I didn't. So I'll...also need to find a way to keep others from doing the same as I, or else the worlds beyond Asora will be in danger. And I don't want anything to happen to you and yours."

... and if she succeeded, truly succeeded, then Kell's world would be safe, but he would never see her again.

It shouldn't have been a question. It should have been an easy choice to make. The right one, the only one. It wasn't a choice at all-

... but selfishly, Kell hesitated. Pain scraped along the underside of his heart, and nothing sat correctly.

It would be one more thing he'd be expected to bear without complaint or question.

His pain echoed hers. She hadn't ever expected to see him again. But with the option now on the table, with the knowledge she could come back to him with enough focus, it felt all the more painful to know that if she wanted him to be safe...she would have to let him go.

And that, to her, was unacceptable.

Neria reached out, smoothing over his pained heart. She took him by the arm and ducked beneath it, so she could rest closer to him. Her arm looped around him.

"I'm not giving you up again," she whispered. "Not without a fight."

Kell hadn't full expected that to be her answer. Neria had always been the best of them, the first to sacrifice, even if it meant her own happiness.

But so much had been taken from her, stripped away, that Kell instinctively understood. They could not afford to lose anyone or anything else.

It brought them to a moral quandary, but it made Kell wonder. Was it possible? Could they manage to secure the barriers, but leave enough of a gap for her to pass through?

We did it with Black London, a part of him whispered. It could be done here.

It could.

Kell's fingers slid into Neria's hair, and he held her to him without a word to the contrary, tipped his face forward to press into her hair, mouth brushing against her temple.

"Not without a fight," he agreed.

It was most likely she would need to let him go again. She'd already watched him go and chose not to stop him. In the aftermath of so much pain, she couldn't ask it of Kell. He'd wanted to go home, to take Rhy out of Asora, and she understood that. She wouldn't have wanted him to stay. But she wouldn't lie or bite her tongue and say she hadn't missed him. That it hadn't hurt when he had gone, or when Hakkyuu had disappeared.

Neria knew of sacrifice. She was ready to give everything and more for the world, for the people she loved. But she wanted to stay, wanted to be beside Kell again. If nothing else, even if she lost him, at least she could say she tried.

He didn't fight her declaration. Didn't tell her it was foolish, didn't give voice to the doubt she felt.

I want to be selfish, if only for a moment.

Kell's lips were warm. Neria closed her eyes and pressed close to him. Her fingers found his jacket and tightened there.

Kell had had practice in comforting someone else with a touch. Rhy had always been an affectionate child, but in the wake of the kidnapping, between surges of anxiety, he sometimes held onto Kell like this.

He'd been the only one who ever had, until Asora.

As Neria pressed close to him, seeking out his warmth, Kell's natural response was to hold her closer, without words and without sign of stopping.

He thought of Hakkyuu, of the way he'd held on in the infirmary bed, as if he were in danger of being swept away. Thought of Rhy and his tears, and of the long silences in his own mind.

He knew only a fraction of what Neria had seen, but he didn't need to, to know she needed him now. So he pushed aside thoughts of the future, and what it would become.

Kell's long fingers settled in her hair, and he held on.

Perhaps it was Kell she needed. Or the contact, or just to be...present with someone. This was the longest she'd gone without the others. Their pack had been split off; Archer had fallen to his fury; Murphy had hurt her. Neria was, essentially, alone now. She did not dare to put words to the feeling as she knew the others suffered, too, but...

But she wasn't alone here. Not for the moment.

Neria exhaled, leaning against him. Her grip loosened in his jacket but she kept her arms around him. With care, she tipped her head up to partially nuzzle him, her nose brushing near his collar.

"I'm sorry. I'm... I know I'm all over the place."

Though Kell was solid to lean against, he didn't often have the right words. He didn't have Rhy's easy, gentle humor that managed to be both arrogant and utterly comforting. He was best at orienting, pushing through.

At action.

But sometimes, life had to take a moment and sit still.

So he didn't answer, not aloud. Instead Kell drew Neria closer, enough to work both arms around her and hold on. It was late and the night was still. The candlelight was all that seemed to hold back the shadows, but for Kell the shades of this place had never been hostile or foreboding.

Sanctuary.

"We can stay here for the night," he offered. "Or I can take you back to the castle. You could stay with me-" Kell planned to give up the bed, "-or I can find you a room."

She was selfish to think it, but she wanted to remain like that, with Kell's arms around her. His warmth surrounded her and she rested against his chest, her head against his shoulder, and the world finally seemed to settled into something peaceful. Her heartbeat echoed his own in perfect tandem. But she knew he'd need to go.

Until he offered to stay.

Slowly, she lifted her head, and her brow furrowed. "I... You would be missed, wouldn't you? They'd wonder where you'd gone for so long. And having me in the castle-- Wouldn't that upset the king and queen? They haven't given me leave to be that close." Even if she wanted to be. And she did.

Her hands rested on Kell's shoulders, soft, gentle. She looked up into his face. "Where would you rather be?"

"With you."

It was an immediate, truthful answer, one Kell had no problem admitting. His brow furrowed as he thought it over, weighing their options.

"They cannot object to you staying in the sanctuary." Though a few months ago Kell may have risked sneaking her into the castle, the probability of discovery was almost certain, and Neria did not need that type of stress. Not with her recent dealings with royalty.

"I will step out a moment and inform my guards of where I will be for the night," he added.

"May I pick up anything for you? Food? Clothes?"

But she couldn't remain in the sanctuary forever. She agreed to meet with them and could only imagine what their reactions would be to someone - no, something like her. Would she only remind them of what their son would become? That there were others like her without altruistic wishes for their world?

For tonight, it was enough. It was more than enough. She would simply need to expect an unfavorable reception. It wouldn't be the first time.

Slowly, she shook her head. "No, I don't--" Although... "Would it be better if I worse something that made me look like a native of Arnes? Or should I could as I am tomorrow?"

Kell considered, feeling the brush of anxiousness and indecision through their link, though he didn't comment on it aloud. Instead he ran one hand down her back, thinking it over.

"There would be nothing wrong with coming as you are," Kell answered. "But if you want to look more like a native of Arnes-" and to keep suspicious eyes off of her, "I know of an excellent tailor. Her name is Calla, she speaks Royal-"

Kell cut off, searching for the word. "Our shared language, and would take good care of you. She also does not ask very many questions."

Valuable, when one constantly acquired suspicious bloodstains.

There was, finally, a faint smile. "Know from experience?" She could only imagine Kell getting into some sort of scrap or trouble and coming to her with tears in his outfit, which had to be patched before someone in the castle suspected. It reminded her of the sly smiles Kell used to give in very rare moments, mostly when he was with Hakkyuu. It lightened something in her chest for a moment.

"I'll go see her. It's...probably too late to do that. If she's open in the morning, I'll be glad to meet with her and see if there's something I can wear that will make me less conspicuous." And perhaps be worthy enough to show her willingness to keep Kell and his world alive.

Reluctantly, she slipped out of his arms. But as she rose, her lips fleetingly brushed the crown of his head. "Go on. I'll wait for you."

It chased the smallest hint of a smile out of him in return, and it showed more in his eyes than the rest of his face. She did know him, as few people did.

"She's a merchant of the night market. We'll see her when it's light, before she sleeps."

Slowly, Kell opened his arms to let her go, but his eyes widened slightly at the small kiss. Their connection didn't wall off at the lack of contact, but it wasn't quite so direct.

Kell nodded in return, then got to his feet, pulling back the sleeve of his coat. A slim line already showed on his arm. Though it had stopped bleeding that silvery-pearl color, the cut still looked raw.

Without hesitation Kell drew his knife, then cut another line below the first, dabbing his fingers against the blood before crossing the room to the wall, where a symbol was drawn, months old. It was a dark, rusted red -- from back when Kell's blood had been that color.

She'd see him hesitate, just a flicker of it, before he put his blood-coated fingers to the mark and painstakingly drew over it, replicating it exactly, ensuring it remained unbroken.

"As Tascen," he whispered, and stepped through a door that wasn't there. A rush of magic pushed over her skin, followed by a dull popping noise, and then he was gone.

Kell was absent for a short time, but still long enough to fray the nerves, leaving her in silence with the candle and the meditation circle on the floor. Though the room was almost painfully simple it had the feel of magic, ancient magic, settled and still.

When Kell returned it was a reverse of what she'd seen when he left- the sudden appearance of Kell, holding two mugs of steaming tea and an extra blanket, unable to balance them and pull his sleeve back down -- over the third cut that now glistened in the firelight.

It was good to see something of a smile, even fleeting. It was decided, then; they would go to the market at first light. And until then, she could have his company.

Neria stepped away but paused as she saw him pull up his sleeve. There was a line and now, now she remembered the pale blood she'd seen on his fingers. Her brow furrowed as she watched him cut into his arm once more without a care and she stiffened, biting down on the protest that started to form. How many times had she done the same, recently? Kell had told her from the beginning that his power was in the blood. She had forgotten; Kell's power seemed effortless to her on a magnitude beyond her comprehension. His blood coated the symbol, he whispered, and then he was gone.

And she was alone.

The room was quaint, quiet. Under other circumstances, it would be peaceful. But the silence in such a foreign place had her nerves on edge without him. Slowly, she sank back down to sit on the rug, and she emptied her thoughts. Hands pulled in close, cradling each other, she cast her senses wide - not to sense for Kell but simply to know the city. The dark spun out in silence, webbing around buildings in the night, looking for new and strange places. She mapped the city in her head through the eyes of the dark, through the whispers she strained to hear as she reached deep into her divinity. The scar on her shoulder and breast burned with the effort.

All of that snapped back into place with a shudder as Kell suddenly returned, leaving her briefly shaken and wide-eyed. She blinked, quickly standing, and she moved to help him. Her hand gently went out for his arm. "Another?" she asked softly, coaxing him to sit.

Kell handed over one of the mugs, caught up in the surprised look on her face, as if he'd startled her from a deep dream. Though he hadn't been concentrating on what her magic was doing, it left a chill in the air he couldn't attribute to anything, and he gave a small shiver before following her gaze to his arm.

"Once here, once back, once here again," he explained. "They take less time to heal when I cut shallowly, but close quickly."

Kell ran his fingertip over the marks. Before his death they would have healed before morning, without leaving any scar behind. Now, it would take much longer, provided Kell did not seek Tieren's touch.

- or Neria's, he thought, for a split second, before realizing that that magic would have been taken from her as well. A shadow crossed his eyes as he moved to sit with her, taking a spot on the bed.

"Did I interrupt something?" he asked.

"Do you have to be bleeding when you use the spell?" she asked. She knew sometimes blood was required for spells - a great deal of it, too, in Thedas - and knew most rituals required for the blood to be fresh, the wounds open, the power in it still active. She felt briefly guilty that he was doing all of this for her when it would be easier if he hadn't--

"I can help," she whispered, reaching for him with one hand. The other took the mug he offered and Neria began to settle beside him. At his question, she looked to the middle of the room silently.

She did not speak for a moment. Then, "I was looking and listening to Arnes. That's all. I wanted to...see it, to know what it all looks like. To know the streets. I was only curious." And wanting to know the layout, to know where she could run if she needed to. To find the darker places of the city, that she might slip back through the fissure if all went poorly tomorrow.

"I do," Kell confirmed quietly, but not with any shame. Rhy hated it and always had, especially when they'd been younger, and Kell had been ready and willing to open a vein at the slightest of boyish injuries. Rhy never went to sleep with more than a bruise -- and Kell always healed quickly.

A small pain like this was hardly more than a blink.

Curious, he moved into her grasp, watching her eyes as she spoke, as if she were apologizing for something shameful, having to justify it. Kell frowned slightly, troubled, but not because of what she'd done.

"Did you find anything?"

Setting aside the mug, Neria reached for his arm. Her eyes scanned the cuts carefully. In her eyes, there was no judgment for what he'd done; this sort of work, to Kell, was like breathing. It was necessary to do what he needed to. "I found people," she said softly, her gaze on his injuries. "And I was mapping out the city with my senses. If you're...asking if I found threats, then, no. I don't sense any of the other godlings or anyone so powerful that you need to worry on." It was only her.

Her fingers outlined the newest cut and Neria reached deep within to carefully coax out a tendril of dark, which came to her bidding like faint, dark smoke. But beneath it, strangely, shimmered a faint light - the familiar glow of her natural, magical healing. Which seemed to startle her, as she pulled her hand back and looked at it strangely. "Why--" she murmured, uncertain. Briefly, she touched the branded mark Murphy had given her. It was still there, so how was it possible that she had access to her magic?

Only one way to tell if it was true.

With hardly a gesture, Neria's hand glowed a faint blue-white light, and she went to work on the cuts on his arm. It took two tries to get the magic to work, as all of the godlings had become difficult to heal, but the magic seeped into his skin and knitted it closed. The dark she had summoned remained still, cradling the magic, seemingly soaking in its presence. And, oddly enough, the dark felt no different in that moment than her healing did: warm, comforting, like a balm.

At length, she pulled away. The magic, and the dark, receded. Neria pressed her fingers against the hand that had used that magic, a frown set into her features. "...I thought she took it. I haven't-- I haven't been able to do anything until now."

Kell nodded. Though he could sense things, they could always shield, and he'd outgrown being surprised by anything that came out of Asora. It could make the impossible look routine.

Staying still beneath her touch, eyes half-shut, they blinked wide again at the touch of her magic. It felt like the first time she'd ever healed him, with the aftertaste of dark.

He took a deep breath, then flexed his arm, running his fingertips over the newly unbroken skin, then looking up to meet her eyes, find the shock mirrored there.

"When I came to Asora," Kell said carefully, "My connection to Rhy was muted to all but his heartbeat. I couldn't feel his emotions, his pain, nothing. Your link may be flexible, as well."

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