ruinations | adsom: reunions

adsom: reunions

Too much. It was too much.

Neria had slipped into the dark with incredible ease, buried herself in it so she could escape from her trial and from everything else. She jumped through the layers of the world - the dark, the fissures of other realms, a deeper dark she had no name for - and as she went, the world seemed to simply shimmer away. Neria fell through the layers of the realms and Cassian screamed for her. Rather than fight, she simply allowed herself to fall away from the world.

And as she came back out, she stepped from the shadows of an alley, breathless, leaning against the stone. Her eyes adjusted to the gloom as if she'd gone from dusk to twilight and she waited there a moment, pressing the heels of her hands to her eyes until she saw dancing spots. Her chest felt like it was collapsing in on itself.

Cassian whispered to her, cajoling, and she finally came back to herself.

And she was not in Emorr.

The street was unfamiliar. As she stretched her senses through the shadows, she realized that...nothing was familiar here. She'd come out elsewhere in her fit and Neria moved from the alley to quickly begin exploring, keeping to the shadows cautiously.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

All through Neria's explanation, Emira's eyes flickered over and over toward Kell, taking in his expressions, how he held himself, his reactions to what Neria was saying.

Maxim absorbed what she was saying as if he himself were steel, grim with purpose.

And Kell -- Kell listened with dawning horror of what was to come.

He hadn't known, and it was obvious. Even to Emira. His brow had furrowed, he'd swallowed his words, and he'd gone still. Very still, eyes fixed on Neria's face, searching for any hint of-

What? That it wouldn't be true? That she was having them on? Neria would never joke about something like this.

"... Antheia," he whispered, like a soft curse under his breath. He swallowed back the faint nausea, Hakkyuu's words in the back of his mind, what he'd tried to make Kell promise, and what Kell had dodged around.

"Do I need to go back with you?"

To his question, Neria was only silent, watching Kell with wide eyes. It took every scrap of willpower she had left not to speak informally, to reach for him, to do anything that exposed how very much it hurt her to hear him ask that question. Her heart ached, twisted in her chest.

Her inclination was selfish. She wanted to tell him to come back with her, to be part of their Pantheon, to stay by her side so she wouldn't be alone or hurting any longer-- She wanted to beg for it.

Neria's fingers were digging into her wrists again, deep enough to almost draw blood.

Pulled taut as a bowstring, her answer was terribly soft. "No." In this, she could not be selfish. She had to think of him, of Rhy, of his home. Last night, she had told him that she did not blame him for leaving - that even if she loved him, she knew his love for Rhy and his duty to his home had always come first, and so she understood why he had to go. And faced with that choice after Hakkyuu's disappearance, why would he ever want to stay in Asora? How could he ever be happy?

"No, Kell," she whispered. "If... If we fail, then you are your world's best hope of survival and protection." Him and Rhy, the latter of which was unspoken, but Kell would know. He had made the right choice to come home. If he left now and returned to Asora, no doubt he would be forced to ascend in order to fight. She couldn't let that happen to him, not now after he'd finally found some measure of peace.

Neria's response made sense, but he didn't need their connection to see how much it hurt. Not even Maxim and Emira did. There was no hiding it, and Kell threw aside pretense, reached out to put a hand over hers, squeezing firmly.

He couldn't see exactly what she'd been doing, but he had a similar tendency. It was something Rhy had never said a word about, but he'd started to touch his hands, much like this, when he felt Kell doing it.

He felt relieved, but also faintly ill at being so. Perhaps he would tell her just how many factors had gone into his decision to go back to Red London, someday. ... if they ever did have time.

There were a lot of things he wanted to tell her.

Kell squeezed, edging his fingertips into hers.

"May we be excused?"

Maxim gestured an assent, but Emira's dark eyes followed them as Kell drew back his hand, tugging gently on Neria's hands.

The first touch of his hand immediately brought her world to a stuttering halt. The tightness in her shoulders seemed to settle briefly, all of her thoughts and struggling brought down to the narrow scope of Kell's hand on hers, grounding her. A soft exhale greeted the touch, her eyes finding his and remaining there.

And then, she reached back, grasping his fingers.

It seemed such a shameful thing to do, to nearly break in front of the King and Queen, the people who were the parents of his dearest brother. Neria remained silent, not quite able to meet their gazes for fear of what she'd find. Some measure of condemnation or confusion, even as Kell coaxed her hand to open, to take his, to stop hurting herself.

He took her hands, excused them, and tugged her along. She could do nothing else but follow, though she managed another brief dip of her head in apology and respect as he took them away from the table and back out the door.

I'm sorry, she immediately whispered once they'd cleared the threshold, as if she'd been afraid of even utilizing that power around them. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry.

Outside the room the guards were waiting, and they fell into step as Kell kept walking, still holding Neria's hand. Refusing, now, to let go.

Why?

He left it open-ended, letting everything come apart and fray between them, kept his attention forward through the marble hallways, the deep carpet runners that swallowed their steps.

Why was she sorry? Why had she lied to the king and queen about staying? Had she been lying?

She couldn't stay. He knew that. She couldn't stay.

It tore him up more than he wanted, or felt ready to admit, but he put it all into the next step, the next turn, and brought Neria to the place he felt was his -- past the heavy wooden doors and into a room of dark wood and darker drapes, deep shimmering blue and black.

The chamber itself was meant to evoke the middle of the night, even as Rhy's was the golden and blush of dawn.

Kell closed the door behind them with a slow sigh, and snapped his fingers softly. The candles burned to life, lighting the parts of the room not touched by the sunlight shining in from the balcony's doors.

A fire burned to life in the grate, dancing over the wood placed there, licking at it, burning hot with magic before it took to the fuel and settled. Becoming something natural.

She did not answer the question, even as Kell tugged her along. Neria walked willingly, never feeling as if he was taking her somewhere unsafe, or somewhere she would rather not be. She kept her head up as best as she could, even as she felt more and more of her control over herself snapping.

Between them, her thoughts did not reach out. Not until they were past the heavy wooden door of his chamber, where he closed the door behind them, and Neria was faced with the deepest blue of the night sky, the one place she had become so accustomed to being hers.

And it was Kell's.

A small fire flickered at his bidding, called up to cast the chamber in deep shadows all around them. Her gaze traced over the room, mapping it, admiring in silence even as her thoughts seemed to fall apart. She tried vainly to gather up the pieces. Her hand remained in his.

I couldn't hold it together in front of them.

She'd tried her damnedest to remain as unmoving as a leader should be, as a goddess might be, as a hero could be. To remain steadfast. But in the end, everything spooled out through her fingers, and she scrambled to reel it all back in before she lost something else that was precious to her.

And because...I don't know what to do.

There was a duty to fulfill and worlds to keep safe - but Neria had wanted (and still wanted) to fight for him. To stay by his side. To hold fast to Kell because he was one of her life's greatest parts...and to admit that she was powerless and unable to keep him burned bright and painful in her chest. Her hand held fast to his.

It took longer than Kell would have wanted to finally look at her. To find Neria looking over his room, the walls he'd grown up in, where pulling aside drapes would have her finding spellwork traced into wood, old bloodstains seeped into stone, burnt ash and the smell of flowers and old paper and woodsmoke and frost and the herbal ointments Tieren gave him for the hurts he gave himself, in his service.

The couches and the desk, the bookshelves and the oldest, ugliest chair from the library that Rhy hated, but Kell still felt was the most comfortable place in the world, even to sleep.

The deep soft bed with its midnight canopy. The reading nook stuffed to the gills with research books, handwritten journals, inkstains and the smell of old blood on stone.

Kell squeezed Neria's hand, and in the moment, he could offer nothing. He had taken them from there because he'd been inches from cracking, too.

With a soft, smooth tug, he drew her by the hand. First closer, and then into his arms to hold on tightly.

... I don't either.

It felt strange to be there with him, surrounded by the deepest midnight, as if she had fashioned the room herself. Neria remembered that place in the Void she'd found, shadows flung in all directions, reflections of herself in the black water. This was softer, more comfortable, but of a similar essence.

She felt at home. More so when he pulled her close and brought his arms around her. Neria did the same, embracing him, leaning into his chest.

I don't want to leave. I meant what I said: I want to fight for you.

Her thoughts could be pragmatic; she could rationalize the need to for her to leave and return to Asora. But she could not stop her heart from wanting, from loving. She'd learned it was impossible. Better that she could be balance, both head and heart, even if in this moment she could only be the latter.

She was not ready to let him go. Not again.

Neria drew a staggered, painful breath into her lungs. Her grip tightened on him.

What could I tell them? That I was planning to stay, to dig my heels in, and you'd have to command me to go before I would ever consent to leave?

How could she explain that she would gamble a world's safety for a few weeks of happiness?

One arm settled around her waist, holding her to him, but the other found her hair. He buried his fingers in it, tipped his head forward, and shut his eyes, letting her words rush over him, her guilt and want and pain and feelings of duty, and deeper still, her heart-

The lines of the worlds and threads of fate seemed to spool out endlessly before them, and Kell looked out on them bitterly in his mind's eye, heavy with the knowing. The last time he'd been selfish, hundreds had died.

The last time he'd tried to do the right thing, it had been thousands, and Neria still carried the scars of what they'd done to her.

No matter what they did, they were destined to be tangled up in this.

Grim, Kell stroked her hair, slowly shutting his eyes. He took what she'd handed him, and tucked it away, knowing.

We will sort this.

Somehow.

Edited 2018-10-16 04:37 (UTC)

She could almost believe it, when it came from him. Neria wanted very desperately to believe that was true.

Kell's fingers were tangled in her hair, stroking, and he bent towards her. She leaned up in turn, bringing her hand to the back of his head. With care, she tipped her head up to press to his. Neria remained there, feeling the knots between them, the strands of their lives twisted up in each other. And spinning out was their shared duty as godlings, as protectors of worlds, the shields for loved ones and the futures of countless people they called their own.

No matter what they did, it would be messy.

Neria echoed him. We will see this through. One way or another, that was something she could promise.

She lifted her hands to cup his face, to cradle it gently in her grasp. It took no effort at all to look into his eyes. "I'm sorry," she whispered. For bringing him more pain than promise; for making things complicated again. The last thing she ever wanted to do was cause him pain.

Kell resisted being comforted at the very best of times, and now was no exception. His lips twitched as she took his face in her hands, pressing together in a grim line, his eyes nearly shut. This close his eyelashes were darker than his hair, coppery in the firelight. His hands found her shoulders, curled against the fabric of her clothes, gripping.

It took him several long seconds to meet her eyes, and then he swallowed that impossible pain with a cut-up sigh.

... he could not think that it would have been better if she had not come. Even this chance to see Neria again, to reconcile, to have this much was better than what they'd had.

"You aren't to blame," he answered, his voice deep and soft. "You no more asked to wake up in the blood than I did. From that moment there was no stopping this."

Kell's perpetual frown, even in this tumultuous moment, only made her briefly smile. Her thumbs brushed over the high bones of his cheeks, fond, and he held her in his grip.

"Even so, I don't want to keep hurting you." In every way. Kell was free now, free from Asora and the expectations of true godhood, even if he was still cursed to life unending as a godling, adrift in a world that already regarded him as mover of stars and sun. She was the blade that dug up the old wounds, and she dearly wished she was not.

Her hands fell from his face after a time, also settling on his shoulders. They slid past there, too, to wrap gently around him and keep him close. "I--" Words. There were too many things she wanted to say and it never seemed the right time to say them. Did she tell him, again, how she missed him? How she wished things could be different? Should she reassure him, as he had reassured her, that they would overcome this too?

Neria swallowed. For a moment, she could not quite meet his gaze. "Thank you. For...For everything." For allowing her to reconcile with him; for providing his support and his solidity in front of his parents; for not sending her away.

As Neria wrapped her arms around him, as she drew him close, Kell lost the breath in his lungs -- and it stayed out. He didn't need to breathe anymore. It wasn't something he did often, but he caught it, in these moments. The small bits of uncertainty.

The moments his body forgot to pretend to be human.

"That sounded very much like a goodbye," he said softly. His voice seemed to come from far away.

Her gaze met his, the quiet around them settling. Neither of them breathed. And then, she reached up with her hand, brushing a few strands back from his face. Neria's smile was small, fragile. Sad.

Voice hushed, she shook her head. "It wasn't." Not for the moment. "I only... It was something I didn't tell you before we parted," she said quietly. "That I was grateful to you. That you brought joy to my life; that you were one of my life's best parts, even for the few months I had you." Here, she paused, realizing her words were still implying that she was leaving, that she would leave - and in the moment, it was not what either of them wanted or needed.

"I need to...to say things instead of keeping them inside. I've tried so hard for so long to simply swallow what I have to say because it never seems the right time--" She looked up at him. "But then it will never be the right time. And I've done it over and over, forgetting how much it hurts when the moment passes. When I know I can never have the things I want because of my own failure." She never told people she loved them until they slipped through her fingers; she never offered her appreciation until she had moved on; she forgot to be genuine with those that mattered, to savor the moments, and she continued to live in the past, in regrets.

It had to stop.

Neria went up on her toes. She pressed her lips to his cheek. "So I want you to know now. That's all. You were my rock today. I needed you. I'm glad you stayed with me."

Kell's fingertips found the folds in the back of her outfit, caught there and held on, still not quite able to look her in the eye. Air still wasn't quite coming -- even Rhy had never spoken to him like this, as free as he was with his affection.

It still felt very much like he was standing on the threshold of losing her. As though she were saying this because she feared she might lose her chance to do so.

But that, he sensed, did not make it less true.

He lifted a hand, brushed her hair back from her face, parted his lips. He wasn't made for soft things, for spelling out how he felt, for romantic gestures or even (he considered, ruefully) for true honesty.

With Neria's kiss still warm on his cheek, he leaned in, caught the edge of her mouth with his own. Warm. Soft as he could make it. Pulled back, just enough to meet her eyes.

There were things she wished she could tell him now. How she wanted to stay, how she wanted to try to remake her life and salvage the pieces she had lost. The despair she felt when Murphy had taken her magic, or the howling rage in Archer's eyes. The desperate feeling of being alone finally staved off by Kell's warmth in her life once more. How she wished she could pretend it would be all right.

It would be all right, she knew. But not for them. Not down this path.

As she came down from her toes, Kell tipped his head and kissed her. Neria started, wide-eyed, and stared back at him as he pulled away only enough to meet her gaze. Kell's fingers were caught in her coat, keeping her there, but she knew if she tugged away that he would let him go.

But she did not want him to.

Neria's exhale came out faint, not enough air to make a real sound. She reached up to touch his cheek. And then she leaned in and kissed him, direct, tender. For now.

It was the touch to his cheek, as much as the kiss, that threatened to take him apart at the edges. Neria had wanted away from where she was. She'd wanted to be somewhere she felt safe, and the magic had taken her here. To him.

She had to go back -- but even if he did go back with her, he wouldn't be able to protect her. He knew that now. He could do his best, but it wouldn't stop what was coming.

But it wasn't here, in this moment. Not yet. Not right now.

The kiss had been Kell's own version of what Neria had said aloud; the things he felt that he couldn't quite name or explain. He felt that she deserved to feel safe, to feel wanted, to be accepted as well as admired. He took her as a whole, complete with scars and fears and broken pieces. They were both far from perfect.

They didn't have everything, but they did have now.

Kell worked his fingers into Neria's hair, drawing her closer with a hiss of breath, like he wouldn't get another chance.

Months ago, he had kissed her hand as they shared a private moment at the fire, and she had not known rightfully what to do. She would not have denied the attraction or the connection she felt but there was Archer, still, and her heart was with him.

Only now, his heart also belonged to someone else.

She felt selfish for craving someone to simply want her, to accept her. For her to be enough for someone. And while she knew it wasn't true of Kell either, she knew him as she knew no other, and in the tangled layers of their mess, she knew he accepted her for what she was and what was becoming. And for now, that was all she wanted.

Kell's fingers tangled in her hair and tugged her close, til there was nearly no space between them any longer. She could feel the warmth radiating from him and she could not - would not - pull away. The hand at his cheek remained, but her other hand reached up to thread into the back of his hair, keeping him there with her. Neria kissed him soundly, taking what he offered, as she might never have this moment again.

It was tempting to let it all go. To lose himself, to lose both of them in that kiss, to forget the world and what was coming. Time was a luxury, finite, and they had so little.

The objective part of his mind told him to pull back, to pull away, that this wasn't going to be worth the pain of it later -- but really, who could tell? Did regrets weigh more, hurt more than things lived? Kell thought of the things he and Rhy had avoided saying, doing, and honestly could not have answered his own question.

And then Neria's hand worked into his hair, and she pulled him close, and the question was off the table.

He pressed against her, fingers tight on her clothes before he released, gripped her hips, and pulled them flushed together.

It was a tangled rush, but he paused there, lips still on hers, his teeth grazing her bottom lip, holding for her response.

Neria felt him shift beneath her hand, suddenly closer. His grip tightened, released, and then she felt his hands on her hips. He tugged her in tighter, pressed in until their hips met. It coaxed a gasp from her lungs, her lips hovering against his, her eyes wide. Her thoughts caught up with her body, realized the sharpness and uncertainty that slammed into her like a blow to the head.

Her fingers stilled. Her heart thundered painfully in her chest for just those spare seconds.

It hadn't been so long since the dungeons. And it had taken effort to feel...anything about her body. To feel she was a person once more and not some kind of animal. Archer had helped, but even he had shied away, treated her like something fragile. Something that could break.

She was tired of feeling afraid. She looked into Kell's eyes and found she wasn't terrified at all, even knowing the consequences.

Neria took a breath. Breathed him in, the smell of lilies, and the smell of Kell - magic and rain and fresh air - and she closed her eyes again. Kissed him, harder this time, and pressed into him. Her hand fell from his face to slip beneath his coat so she could touch his shirt, grip it tightly, feel the warmth of his skin beneath. She made a sound against his lips, lost in his mouth.

It had been a risk; it was so soon after she'd been hurt, and there would be a chance she wasn't ready. That it would rake painfully over scars still healing and catch on the shards left behind.

But they were not what had happened to them and Neria was not something broken. He kept his hands on her hips, short of breath and waiting for her answer to that unspoken question. As she slid closer, worked her hands beneath his coat and found the soft, thin cloth covering his skin, he groaned softly into her mouth. Relief and want, tangled with something far closer to home. Far more vulnerable.

Kell's fingers slid to the backs of Neria's thighs, and then he was lifting her up, encouraging her legs to wrap around his waist so he could hold her close, lift her into the air, and move.

It might have been soon to move them to the bed, but it was the only place he wanted to go. He spilled her down against the midnight cloth and followed, his coat gaping open in the front. His tokens spilled out of his shirt on their chain- her small blue glass bead still among them.

It felt like the right decision. And more than that, more than the trepidation, she wanted him. Had wanted and loved Kell for so long that this felt...like a natural conclusion, even if it might have been a poor decision in the long-term. They only had this moment; when the next moment came, they only had that time too. She wanted to use this time to enjoy him and to let herself feel more than she would allow. Here, she was safe. In his arms, she knew she would be cared for.

The sound he made shot through her, jangled her nerves. She touched him for just a fleeting second until he suddenly lifted her, coaxed her to hold on, and then she was gripping him about the shoulders again. It gave her every excuse to thread her fingers in his hair once more, to feel its silkiness against her skin, until he took them to the bed and rested her there, climbing up. Neria reached for him, kissed him until she was nearly breathless again, her fingers reluctantly sliding down to find the catches of his coat--

And it was here that she felt something cool, metallic. She opened her eyes, nuzzling him, trying to look at what was between them. Paused at the familiar sight of a blue, glass bead.

The world tipped on its axis again as she reached up to touch it, her thumb running over its smooth sides. She looked, too, for the pendant she had given him, but her eyes were already searching his face. "Kell," she whispered, but had no words for the errant emotion she felt. She had spent so long wondering if, when he left, if he hated her, if he hated her decisions...that he felt so much guilt that he might have thrown away the things she had let him keep, as he tried to give them back before they went their separate ways. And Neria remembered, even before that day in the mountains, that their parting words to each other had not been kind. She had killed herself with his information, had told others how to do the same - and the doubts had piled in her heart for so long, cultivated there by the poisonous words Kaevir had given her.

But he kept them. He kept these pieces of Neria that were buried, of a woman who died on the mountainside, whose corpse was shackled and brutalized for weeks. And that woman was someone he still cared for.

Neria leaned up and kissed him again, that he might not see the glassiness in her eyes, but he would feel the furious pounding of her pulse, and she worked harder now to pull his coat from his shoulders, that she might seek warm skin beneath.

As Neria lifted her hands to touch the bead, her fingertips skimmed over another chain, still tucked inside his shirt. It shifted, the faint magic and droplets of old blood reacting to her presence.

He still wore the pendant. After all, she told him that he might return it. Someday, but not yet.

Not yet.

As Neria whispered his name Kell closed the distance between them, putting them forehead to forehead and warm with racing hearts, the sharp edges of shared memories. He lifted one hand from the bedclothes to cup the side of her neck, fingertips settling into her hair.

"Neria," he whispered back, like an answer to an unspoken question. He rubbed his thumb over her pulse, then parted his lips to let her in. Arched his shoulders to get the coat off, to loosen his tunic and let her slide her hands under it. As she touched skin he shivered, then pressed into it like a man starving.

His lips found the edge of hers, and then her throat. A sharp breath inward, followed by a hint of teeth. Not quite enough to leave marks, but enough to communicate just how clearly he wanted to.

Kell's kisses kept moving downward.

There it was. Her fingers brushed over the carved surface of it, feeling the symbol engraved in the silver. She felt it respond to her, like calling to like, the thrum of dark blood in her veins still. She sighed quietly, some strange feeling of homecoming singing in her veins. But she knew this, she realized. Knew she would feel this way with him.

Her eyes met Kell's, forehead to forehead, his fingers in her hair. She leaned into his touch, hungry for his affection. A shiver worked through her, the way he said her name - as if he said 'of course, of course I kept it' - and tipped her head back to meet his mouth once more, again and again. His lips fell from hers as he trailed down her throat, the promise of teeth skirting down her skin. She made a low sound, her fingers sliding over warm skin. "Please," she whispered, half-formed thoughts pressed to his own, wanting him to bite, wanting him to mark. Something terribly delighted settled in her chest that someone might see what he'd done and know--

So long as she was here, she was his and no one else's.

Her fingers worked over his body. Fire magic only whispered across his flesh, for he was warm without anything else she might offer, and she tugged at his tunic until she could coax it from him. And as his mouth traveled down, as he looked to expose her skin, she half-heartedly worked to help - to undo the beautiful blue outer coat she'd been given and the soft tunic beneath, exposing mostly unmarked skin. The scars that once lingered on both sides - from the werewolf Kell had saved her from and Immund's mechanical beast - were practically gone, save for very faint lines in her flesh that could have been from anything. All that remained, as he slowly unwrapped her from her clothes, were the scars on her back...and the brand on her shoulder, a furious outline of red around healed skin, and hints of silver in the mark, the same moonlit color Neria's eyes had been for but a moment the night prior.

It did not seem to trouble her in the moment. Or she was, perhaps, too distracted to care. As Kell paid homage to her throat, she worshiped the line of his body, the tone of his muscles, his soft skin. Her fingers glided down his spine with but a hint of nails, an offer, if he wanted friction.

Kell lost his breath against Neria's skin, her pulse, the soft whisper of her voice as he moved underneath him, pressing up into him. With a soft moan he found the warm skin next to her collarbone as her clothes came away from her body, chased by the touch of his hands.

He bit down, a hiss of breath between his teeth. Not sharp, but deep and bruising, claiming, holding on as if he expected her to twist and move beneath him, and he wanted to anchor her down.

Kell's coat and then his tunic came away easily, when he shrugged them off his skin was all but devoid of scars -- at least in the places people naturally looked for them. He pressed into her touch like someone starving, all the more at the hint of nails, encouraging her to rake him open. He tasted of desperation, like some part of him chased the pain.

"Go on," he whispered, his already low voice deeper, catching. He drew his fingers down the front of her tunic, parting it with a twitch of magic, just ahead of his touch. She'd drawn fire magic into her hands, licked it over his nerves.

Now, he did the same, as if to prove that he could.

"You're not going to break me."

no subject

cw: self-harm-ish

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject