ruinations | adsom: reunions

"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.

"True."

Kell trailed off, pleased by the thought, by how very black she was, how startling her eyes. Memories of Esa (soft and white, a flicker of a beautiful cat with pink pawpads flashing across Neria's mind) tickled at him, but Kell let them pass; and with them the memory of a small white ermine with eyes black as coal, a quick, hot cut of claws drawn across a wound that Kell still hadn't managed to truly close, let alone heal.

"A cat is fine," he murmured, working his fingers into her fur to give her a generous rubdown, finding all of the places that required rubbing, scratching.

Neria felt the flicker of memories and, though her expression could not completely change, there was a startlement in her eyes as she tried to decipher all she felt and saw in the moment. Leaning into his hand, she slipped closer, and bumped her head against his. Faint purring came from her throat as she nuzzled him, leaning in.

His hands were warm and, eventually, Neria settled down against him. She ducked her head against his chin and continued to purr, letting him pet her. It was the most relaxed she had been since finding Kell again, at last feeling comfortable enough to feel safe.

Her little paws worked faintly at his shirt and chest. She blinked slowly at him. Cats cannot smile but she certainly seemed to be. That's nice, she whispered, again rubbing her face against his chin.

Though some might argue that cats were aloof, cold creatures, Kell had always found them to be quite affectionate, given the proper motivation. Silence, a steady hand, no chasing, no grabbing. To Kell, their sensibilities and mannerisms made utter sense.

Though Neria was not a real cat, she behaved enough like one for the illusion to be profoundly comforting, and it wasn't until she purred against him, slow-blinked sleeked her dark body up against his own, that he realized just how very exhausted he was. How utterly relieved he was to see her. To know that they could repair things between them.

Kell bent his head to touch his cheek against her fur, let out a sigh, and relaxed, eyes drifting shut.

He was soft with her and infinitely tender. She purred quietly until sleep overtook her, quicker than she anticipated. In safety, she felt peace. It was all she needed.

Only once did she stir in the night, blessedly. A flicker of nightmares that briefly startled the small body, which took some time to remember where she was. Who was with her. That she was all right. She curled up against him again and was asleep in no time at all.

At some point, of course, the magic wore off. Neria was herself again, curled up against Kell, her legs and feel just barely resting off of the cot. She did not notice. She was warm and comfortable, her face hidden in Kell's chest, a hand against his side. In the end, they both fit well enough on the cot that it was no trouble at all.

For the first time in some time, Kell slept the rest of the night through, solid and still. His breathing came regularly, and even when she stirred in nightmares, Kell only barely followed suit, and then not enough to fully wake.

Dawn found them with one of Kell's arms draped loosely over the dip of Neria's waist, breath caught in her dark hair, still deeply asleep as the light crept in.

Somewhere in the sanctuary, bells rang, chiming the world awake.

Sometime in the night, she began to breathe again. And her breath caught briefly in her throat at the sound of bells. A single eye opened as she turned her head sleepily. Light peeked in through the doorway. She softly groaned and closed her eye again, burying her face back into Kell's chest.

It took her several moments to remember where she was and who she was with. It did not encourage her to stir; being here with Kell was a sanctuary all to itself.

But slowly, she did start to rise. She blinked some sleep away and lifted herself just slightly onto an elbow. She turned her eyes upon Kell, still sleeping, his hair mussed, his hand on her side. Slowly, Neria smiled, and lifted a hand to brush pieces of his hair back from his face. So rarely had she ever seen him at peace. It was a shame to rouse him. "Kell," she whispered softly. "It's morning. We should get up."

Kell was so deeply asleep he didn't wake immediately, even with her moving against him. His brow creased, body heavy as she pushed against his chest, muscles slowly coiling as he willed himself from sleep, even if he didn't blink his eyes open until he felt Neria's fingers in his hair, running across his scalp.

He shivered before he knew to quell it, opened his eyes with a breath, and focused on her, his thoughts still thick with sleep.

"... hm?"

Not the most eloquent in the mornings.

Neria smiled down at him, brushing some hair over her shoulder so it did not fall into his face. "Good morning," she murmured. "They were ringing the bells a minute ago. It's light outside." And it would probably be best for them to get up, though she was warm beside him and it was good to see him so comfortable. It was a shame they couldn't linger.

"Someone's probably going to come looking for you soon." And finding him tangled up with her might not be the best first impression to give.

... she really was still there, even in the daylight.

Kell blinked back to the world of the waking, his expression softer, younger than she usually had cause to see on him, watching her and feeling... peaceful.

At least until the agenda of the day began to trickle in, lining up objectives, goals, appointments, the anticipation of the coming night.

"Not here," he assured her, shoulders tensing as he pushed himself slowly up, pulled his fingers through his slightly rumpled hair. The pillow had left a mark on his cheek. "Not openly."

He rubbed the heel of his hand over his blue eye, then seemed to remember.

"I think we wanted to see Calla?"

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