ruinations | adsom: reunions

She wasn't quite certain what he would have said. But by the way Kell squeezes her hand, she at least understood it was not something he wanted to contemplate. Neria's fingers threaded with the one clasped over hers; her other hand pressed over his, trying to reassure him.

"I'll be honest, I promise." What might come after was what frightened her, and it was an icy lance up her spine - very quietly mirrored for Kell. "How...much do you want them to know about Asora, if they ask me? About what we have seen?"

"Answer what they ask. I've told them an overview, but Tieren knows the whole story. They may ask you to corroborate parts of what I've said, or-"

Kell pressed his lips together.

"Be truthful, even if it does not show me in the best light. They know what happened, but may be checking your story against mine."

Neria's frown grew somewhat. She would, of course, act in the best interest of his world...but it felt a little like betrayal. She'd been loyal to Kell first.

"Won't that get you in trouble?" she asked. And, worse, that they were Rhy's parents... Did they blame Kell for what had happened? Did they think it was his fault that Rhy came back changed, came back as an Other? "Can they sense what is true and what is false? Not...that I would lie. I know better than to do that. But if they can sense such a thing, I'd like to know."

“Highly unlikely. Tieren was placed in charge of reviewing our stories, and given the… circumstances-“

The lengths he’d gone to. Accepted enslavement to avoid fighting a war on behalf of another crown. Inadvertently freeing both Rhy and himself from slavery. Brought them home. Ensuring Rhy remained alive, even at the expense of his own life.

“I was ruled to have acted as the crown required.”

With Rhy’s own testimony weighed in, he’d performed his duties to the letter. To lengths to be commended. It was not praise that had sat comfortably, and it showed in Kell’s eyes even if he did not explain aloud.

Kell considered her next question carefully, silent longer than a few seconds, then shook his head.

“Not that I know of – but they are both rulers and parents.”

She heard what Kell did not say. There had been so much sacrifice. Kell had submitted to slavery, allowed himself to die because he would not give Rhy up. If anything, shouldn't they be proud of him?

Slowly, Neria slid closer to him until she was a solid weight against his side. She looped her arm around his and leaned against his shoulder. "And you did," she whispered, reminding him, for she often feared Kell lost parts of himself to his duty. He loved deeply and painfully, as she did, and he was fierce in his protection. He had done everything.

"Rulers are more suspicious of others than they are clairvoyant," she murmured. "And parents... I can't speak to that. Sometimes, they miss important things." Neria's gaze was briefly hard. "But they will be protective and concerned. I understand."

The easy hugs had mostly ever only come from Rhy, but Kell hadn't realized how much he'd missed hers until he'd thought they would not touch again. She felt like a warmth that threatened to have him melting.

Kell didn't let go of himself, but he did relax marginally, a shiver of nerves under her touch before he braced himself, becoming something more comfortable to lean into and against. He wrapped his arm around her back.

Sometimes they miss important things.

"They will be," Kell confirmed, but didn't explain that their protective concern would be for Arnes, and for Rhy, far before it would ever be for Kell himself. Emira saw him as invincible, and Saints only knew what Maxim thought.

Rather than get into it, sipped at his tea. It was already starting to cool.

"Do you have any other questions?"

He did not need to say they would be more concerned for Rhy. Neria knew that and said nothing of it. Kell relaxed in increments and wrapped an arm around her back, and for a moment, she closed her eyes and tried to be still.

At his question, she shook her head. "No, you've told me enough. I'll need to simply allow the rest of it to happen." And she would need to trust that the King and Queen were not similar to the last king they had confronted. She believed Kell and put her faith in him implicitly; if he said it would be all right, then it would be. The rest was nerves and unpredictability.

Reluctantly, she stopped leaning so much so she could sip at her tea.

"How is Rhy?" she asked softly.

Kell genuinely believed it wouldn't be as bad as Neria feared it might. Deliberately, he tried to project some of that faith, in the hopes that it would siphon away some of the anxiety. His parents could be harsh, yes, but they were only human, and they weren't bad people.

As the conversation turned to Rhy, however, she'd feel the worry settle over Kell like a weary blanket.

"Healing," he answered. "But slowly." Kell cut off, trapped his tongue between his teeth before going on. "Learning the power he carries, and how to use it. But he..."

Kell paused again, here. "I don't think he was prepared for how people would react to his eye."

It helped a bit, staunching some of the deeper wounds the anxiety reopened. Neria loosed her tension in increments, reminding herself that things were not the same here. Kell knew his world, knew the monarchs, and that was enough to faintly soothe her.

Neria fixed her attention on what he told her of Rhy, her expression saddened. Rhy had been gentle, open, smiling before his death and even after. But Asora took from people and it had taken some of that wide-eyed wonderment from him. She could not imagine how it must have felt to return to a world where people loved him, where people knew him, and to see the shock and horror as they saw him forever changed.

"Do they still...look on him as if he is Rhy? Or do people look at him the way they look at you?"

Kell, she surmised, had always been different. It wasn't the eye that concerned her. What she was really asking was if they looked at Rhy as useful and powerful now instead, or if they continued to love him because he was Rhy.

"He's always been apart from others. He is a prince."

Kell's sadness echoed Neria's. "But he put so much into bridging that gap, into making people comfortable with him, into being beloved by our people. He's the typical spoiled royal, yes, but he's also generous, kind, and genuine.

"So many people play at that, but for Rhy, it's the way he is. He's never liked barriers or holding himself apart. Now... he's something almost other than a person. Holy. And it's written on his face."

Kell pressed his lips together. "It is different for him than it is for me. People still see him, yes, but... it will take time for them to look past the eye, and what they've been taught it means."

"And now it feels like all that work has come crumbling down because of a much more visible mark of what he's become. Even simply...having that power would have been a marker but this is more obvious." She held Kell close for a moment, resting there and sitting with the worry he had, the sadness, the love he held for Rhy.

Softly, she sighed. "I'm sorry this has happened to him and to you." Apologies would not bring back their safety and security. It would not bring either of them back to life or free them from their godhood. "He's worked so hard."

And Kell was right: Rhy was genuine in his care, in his love and his kindness. For that love to pale in comparison to the power they would see first-- It didn't seem right. "Do you think he'll see me?"

I'm sorry this happened, she said, and Kell shook his head, because there was no changing it, and despite the pain, it solved more problems than it created. It was sad, yes, but it was.

Rhy had always wanted the power to serve his country, and Kell had always wanted him safe. In a twisted way they'd both gotten their wish.

"I can't think of why he wouldn't want to," he said honestly. "He would be more likely to think you would rather not see him."

"Rhy didn't hurt me," she murmured softly, and knew the words would sting. She leaned closer into Kell to remind him of what she said earlier. "He wasn't responsible for what happened."

Neither were you, she whispered beneath that, tucked away as she was deep within him, wound up in who he was, as she had let him do the same for her. They made the choice to do what they did. Kell hurt her in his silence, when he did not share what had happened. But she knew Kell to shoulder responsibility, to be the protector, the shield that tried to deflect all harm at the cost to himself.

That time, others had paid the cost.

"I would be glad to see him," she said quietly. "But - and no offense to Rhy; you know I adore him - it will not be as glad as I was to see you today."

Wasn't responsible, perhaps, but maybe--

Again, Kell fell down the mineshaft of what-ifs, the walkbacks, the second-guessing. If only he'd been stronger. If only he'd asked more questions. If only he'd been more aware, hadn't accepted the idea that she was dead simply because she was silent.

It wasn't fair, of course; the path Kell and Rhy had taken had allowed them to save countless lives in the attack, and to ensure the freedom of all the prisoners even if it had come with costly delay.

But for too many, they hadn't come soon enough.

Now was far from the time for regrets, for revisiting old guilt. Now, there was nothing to be done. But with the wounds still fresh, he appreciated the way Neria leaned into him. Her warmth against his side was more than just a reassurance, and her admission was no small comfort.

"And you," Kell said softly, his voice faltering at the edges, faintly overwhelmed. He gave her a squeeze, then shifted on the bed, downing the last of his tea.

"... we should try to sleep."

His silence said enough. Neria sat with Kell and the hurt until he spoke again, and she leaned into the brief squeeze he provided. But as he parted and said they should sleep, she took a better glance at the bed and noted its size. It was a simple cot, enough for her, but--

Was he going to stay the night here with her? Neria cast her gaze around, down at the floor, frowning. She drank her tea in the quiet for a moment.

Then, she murmured, "I don't know if we're both going to fit, if you're planning to stay."

Kell's brow twitched, and he glanced at the cot, following her gaze. Though he and Hakkyuu had managed to fit in the one in their tent (only on certain occassions, and only by practically sleeping on each other) this one was a bit more narrow.

"I can fetch a spare," he assured her, shifting, then making to get up. He seemed utterly unconcerned with the conventions of who might see.

Then again, this wasn't a church, exactly.

He'd been planning to stay after all. It shouldn't have surprised her like it did, she knew, and as he started to rise, Neria reached out and took Kell by the arm. "No, it's all right." Her gaze went to the cot again and she nudged off her boots with care. "It's all right, Kell. We'll make it work."

After all, she could make herself much smaller if they really couldn't fit.

Neria finished her tea and rose to put the mug off to the side, where it wouldn't be tripped over in the middle of the night. And then she returned to the one side of the cot, nudging him a little with her arm. "Lay down."

Kell stilled at the touch, surprised, but let her pull him back, sinking down onto the cot, then removing his own boots. They were fine and soft, without the stains of travel, and all the more he felt the difference.

He took off his coat, easing it down from his shoulders, then settled down alongside her. They had to be very close to make this work, and it took a moment to make sense of where his arms and legs should be, and then to ease her in against his chest.

Beneath it all his heart still beat.

"All right?"

There was a single night back in the mountains where they had all huddled close in their lean-to, the five of them. It hadn't been like this. Even if it had, that night had been bitterly, terribly cold, and she would have thought nothing to be near like this.

That was a lifetime ago. But even now, she did not feel uncomfortable with Kell. Instead, the positioning, being near him, all of this... It stirred up feelings again, a heavy heartache that was painful but not unwanted. He situated himself and she followed suit, leaning against his chest. Neria put her arms around him loosely, and she fitted herself so they were not so strangely twined. And, nestled close, she could hear his heart beating, a steady thrum that was calming to her.

"I'm fine," she whispered, looking up at him. "Are you? It's not...too bad, right? I can make myself smaller, if it'll help--"

Though Kell had never been particularly good at cuddling, Rhy was a very tactile person, and there had been stretches in their lives where he'd needed the closeness. Kell was somewhat rusty, but he at least knew how to arrange himself.

In the time directly after his death, he'd shared a cot more often than not.

"Rhy's bigger than you are," he answered, without thinking of how it sounded, how she might take it. He was long past caring- and it was Neria.

The cot was at least long enough for his legs, and Kell stretched out, settling slowly, aching with an echo of her pain -- a sensation that for many would be odd, but for him...

The silence settled, and finally, Kell spoke. "You're thinking of something."

It didn't matter how he wanted it to sound. Neria only smiled. "Then you should feel right at home, yes?" she teased. She'd gone a long time without resting near someone; Neria hadn't shared her sleeping space with anyone since the trials began. Even Rowen, who she took in, slept nearby and never in her cot. She'd gone out of his way to get him his own.

And that was even if she slept.

To have another body so close, to feel warm and safe with someone... Neria finally began to relax, her body not held so tightly. But as Kell spoke, she smiled.

"If I have my magic back--" And she did, so she tried.

A simple brush of magic wrapped around her, and Neria grew far smaller. Dark, inky, her fur nearly luminous, there was a black cat where she had been, staring up at Kell with bright golden eyes. She chirruped.

The magic flitted over her skin, between them, warm and tingling and familiar, and Kell's eyes widened as she shrank against him. It was a simple spell to her, but for Kell, there were few times he was surprised by magic.

He beamed as widely as a child, taken by surprise, and immediately reached out to rest his fingertips on her velvety head.

"... I did not know you could do that."

She'd never seen him so surprised, nor so pleased. It made her heart tighten a little in her chest.

Her small head lifted, bumping against his fingers. The eyes held only warmth, her long tail twitching mildly in interest and little else. She turned in a small circle, letting him get a good look at her. In almost every way, she seemed a typical cat. But as she turned in the candlelight, the fur looked just a bit too dark, like an oil slick.

You've seen me as a wolf before, I know. I know many shapes to be but few are strong enough for battle. Others are simply convenient.

As she turned, her tail wrapped briefly around his fingers. Neria came to sit in front of him, letting him inspect her on his own. This is useful enough to slip by places mostly unnoticed.

Kell left his hand lifted, staring in silent wonder as her tail lifted and curled against his fingers. He closed them loosely, let it slide through without gripping, then offered his fingers again to rub against if she so chose.

Unconsciously, treating her like a real cat.

"Not in Red London," he warned, but he could not banish the smile. "Cats are rarer here, and prized. However, they're all over the streets in Grey."

All the more fitting, then, that Kell Maresh has found one of the only cats in Red London, she quipped, leaning her head up to brush her face against his fingers. She satisfied herself with nudging her chin against him, mildly scratching.

Who would ask questions? But if it would be less suspicious, I can be a dog too. Or something smaller, easily slipped in a pocket.

A mouse or a ferret or even a bird. But this form seemed to suit her just fine, and she stretched idly before bumping up close again, nearer to his chest, though she couldn't resist ducking beneath his hand again so he could run his fingers through her soft fur.

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